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| Rosey Rowswell used sound effects to call baseball. Original, right? |
Last year, a couple of young broadcasters were giving me grief about Ryan Ruocco, the ESPN/YES broadcaster.
Ok, boomer.
"He's original," they cried! "He's doing something different!"
Puh-leeze.
Lately, a Mr. Joey Zanaboni has been shamelessly pushing his workaround (it's what we all do). The only thing is, I know his funny/pithy/goofy calls of home runs and soccer goals.
I don't know what the rest of his calls are like. Can he actually call a game? Does it matter?
Either way, the Twittersphere has been eating it up. The likes! The retweets!
A story in USA Today! A response from Dallas Braden! Benjamin Hill of MILB.com wrote a story about him!
I wrote about him!
But, here's the problem: Joey thinks he's new. And he is most definitely not.
"...in their own individualistic way?"
Like, seriously, what in the...?
I've broadcast (just for starters) in my OWN individualistic way since...well...at least 1995 when calling softball for PM/Kraft. Sure, you can hear elements of others in me, but I thread in pop culture, roads, and whatever else climbs into my skull.
My "Eat a sandwich, catch a touchdown" call wasn't original. I'd used that kind of jokes many times. That was just simply the right time for it.
I've LIVED by what Mr. Barber told Mr. Scully: "You bring one thing into the booth that nobody else does. Yourself."
Scully was an original, and Barber told him that five years after the end of World War II. He didn't need an Instagram account.
Putting me aside, there are countless "individuals" who have had the "courage/ambition" to be themselves.
Mostly, I think, without blatant narcissism.
Like -- love him or hate him (and you know how I feel) -- Gus Johnson.
Or Kevin Harlan.
Or Gene Deckerhoff.
Or Phil Rizzuto. Or Harry Caray. Or Skip Caray. Or Hawk Harrelson.
Or Andres Cantor.
Please note these aren't personal preferences, but they're all unique.
Want more?
How about Dizzy Dean? The Hall of Fame pitcher was a popular broadcaster who mangled language, sang songs during the game, and generally did everything a broadcaster doesn't traditionally do. Yet, there he was, on network television, and people loved it.
How about Rosey Rowswell? Oh I dare you to learn about Rosey. The guy was a whoopie cushion disguised as a broadcaster. When a Pirates hitter homered, the broadcast basically turned into Laugh-In. From the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum:
There's Boog Sciambi at ESPN who has become quite popular but is another one of those who thinks the "old" style doesn't work.
Well, the "old" style is working just fine in its evolution. Certainly, things that I do wouldn't be done by Red Barber, for instance, but Red would have evolved to survive today.
Seemed to work from 1950-2016, if you know what I mean, and that guy (Scully, Vin) seemed to evolve nicely.
Away from baseball, do I need to bring up John Madden or Don Meredith or Howard Cosell?
And there was Dennis Miller. Don't forget that, cha cha, OK?
What is not individualistic is the broadcaster just spouting numbers. There's little energy (or too much energy) and zero entertainment value. It's just numbers, nuts, and bolts.
"So here's Jose Martinez Smith. Jose is hitting at .329 with an .892 OPS. The tall righthanded batter takes a slow curve outside for ball one from lefthanded pitcher Ryan Carmichael. Ryan has a 1.203 WHIP, but only on days where the moon can be seen beyond the right field fence during a hailstorm. Now Jose swings and misses at a change. Jose is a fastball hitter and has a 6.1 WAR in 2019..."
See what I mean? I notice this tends to come from the broadcasters that don't know how to tell stories.
Once again: Report. Inform. Educate. Entertain.
Now, should you be "Get off my lawn?" No, that's not going to grow the game, but you also can't avoid opinions (which Barber would have screamed at me for saying, as he felt our job was to simply report). There's got to be a balance to it. I'm not a big fan of some things (pitch clock, counting mound visits) but I've come to understand the emotion and bat flips aren't bad for the spot, for instance.
But it is OK to laugh and have fun. I've done that with (almost) everyone I've worked with. It's great to slide a one-liner in and hear my partner chuckle. Yet, when it's time to get serious, we do that very thing.
I can still hear Kato telling me "he's got nothing" because he saw that I had just taken a big bit of pizza.
Other unoriginal ideas include telling stories when appropriate.
Getting excited when it's TIME to get excited. Just not on a home run hit by the losing team in a 10-2 game.
Don't exaggerate.
Be accurate.
Simple, no?
And most of that has worked for just about 100 years. It has evolved as necessary through the people who have brought us these games.
No, it shouldn't be stale, and it wasn't. Listen to a Mel Allen (or Red Barber) -called game and it's crisp as ever. There are lessons to be learned in there. If it sounds dated, that's because it was a different world.
But don't think you're reinventing broadcasting.
We're long-past that point.
It's as individualistic and original as chicken and waffles at a vegan convention. Somebody grab me some maple syrup, bay-BAY! (That's for Mike Hirn and Nate Stidham)
Ok, boomer.
"He's original," they cried! "He's doing something different!"
Puh-leeze.
Lately, a Mr. Joey Zanaboni has been shamelessly pushing his workaround (it's what we all do). The only thing is, I know his funny/pithy/goofy calls of home runs and soccer goals.
I don't know what the rest of his calls are like. Can he actually call a game? Does it matter?
Either way, the Twittersphere has been eating it up. The likes! The retweets!
A story in USA Today! A response from Dallas Braden! Benjamin Hill of MILB.com wrote a story about him!
I wrote about him!
But, here's the problem: Joey thinks he's new. And he is most definitely not.
Like, seriously, what in the...?
I've broadcast (just for starters) in my OWN individualistic way since...well...at least 1995 when calling softball for PM/Kraft. Sure, you can hear elements of others in me, but I thread in pop culture, roads, and whatever else climbs into my skull.
My "Eat a sandwich, catch a touchdown" call wasn't original. I'd used that kind of jokes many times. That was just simply the right time for it.
I've LIVED by what Mr. Barber told Mr. Scully: "You bring one thing into the booth that nobody else does. Yourself."
Scully was an original, and Barber told him that five years after the end of World War II. He didn't need an Instagram account.
Putting me aside, there are countless "individuals" who have had the "courage/ambition" to be themselves.
Mostly, I think, without blatant narcissism.
Like -- love him or hate him (and you know how I feel) -- Gus Johnson.
Or Kevin Harlan.
Or Gene Deckerhoff.
Or Phil Rizzuto. Or Harry Caray. Or Skip Caray. Or Hawk Harrelson.
Or Andres Cantor.
Please note these aren't personal preferences, but they're all unique.
Want more?
How about Dizzy Dean? The Hall of Fame pitcher was a popular broadcaster who mangled language, sang songs during the game, and generally did everything a broadcaster doesn't traditionally do. Yet, there he was, on network television, and people loved it.
How about Rosey Rowswell? Oh I dare you to learn about Rosey. The guy was a whoopie cushion disguised as a broadcaster. When a Pirates hitter homered, the broadcast basically turned into Laugh-In. From the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum:
Rowswell turned baseball broadcasts into something resembling more of a variety hour. His home run calls were among the most famous in America: When a Pirate connected with a pitch, he would blow on his slide whistle and yell, “Raise the window, Aunt Minnie! Here it comes, here she (the baseball) comes!” A station aide would drop a pane of glass to mimic a window shattering, and Rowswell would deadpan, “Too bad, she tripped over a garden hose. Aunt Minnie never made it home.”There's a massive divide in the broadcasting world -- particularly baseball. There's Joe Buck (much maligned/despised/etc) and John Smoltz, the Hall of Fame pitcher who is fairly strong in his opinions on "old school" baseball. There's Joe Davis, who is much younger but has made his chops at FOX with a straight-forward style.
There's Boog Sciambi at ESPN who has become quite popular but is another one of those who thinks the "old" style doesn't work.
Well, the "old" style is working just fine in its evolution. Certainly, things that I do wouldn't be done by Red Barber, for instance, but Red would have evolved to survive today.
Seemed to work from 1950-2016, if you know what I mean, and that guy (Scully, Vin) seemed to evolve nicely.
Away from baseball, do I need to bring up John Madden or Don Meredith or Howard Cosell?
And there was Dennis Miller. Don't forget that, cha cha, OK?
What is not individualistic is the broadcaster just spouting numbers. There's little energy (or too much energy) and zero entertainment value. It's just numbers, nuts, and bolts.
"So here's Jose Martinez Smith. Jose is hitting at .329 with an .892 OPS. The tall righthanded batter takes a slow curve outside for ball one from lefthanded pitcher Ryan Carmichael. Ryan has a 1.203 WHIP, but only on days where the moon can be seen beyond the right field fence during a hailstorm. Now Jose swings and misses at a change. Jose is a fastball hitter and has a 6.1 WAR in 2019..."
See what I mean? I notice this tends to come from the broadcasters that don't know how to tell stories.
Once again: Report. Inform. Educate. Entertain.
Now, should you be "Get off my lawn?" No, that's not going to grow the game, but you also can't avoid opinions (which Barber would have screamed at me for saying, as he felt our job was to simply report). There's got to be a balance to it. I'm not a big fan of some things (pitch clock, counting mound visits) but I've come to understand the emotion and bat flips aren't bad for the spot, for instance.
But it is OK to laugh and have fun. I've done that with (almost) everyone I've worked with. It's great to slide a one-liner in and hear my partner chuckle. Yet, when it's time to get serious, we do that very thing.
I can still hear Kato telling me "he's got nothing" because he saw that I had just taken a big bit of pizza.
Other unoriginal ideas include telling stories when appropriate.
Getting excited when it's TIME to get excited. Just not on a home run hit by the losing team in a 10-2 game.
Don't exaggerate.
Be accurate.
Simple, no?
And most of that has worked for just about 100 years. It has evolved as necessary through the people who have brought us these games.
No, it shouldn't be stale, and it wasn't. Listen to a Mel Allen (or Red Barber) -called game and it's crisp as ever. There are lessons to be learned in there. If it sounds dated, that's because it was a different world.
But don't think you're reinventing broadcasting.
We're long-past that point.
It's as individualistic and original as chicken and waffles at a vegan convention. Somebody grab me some maple syrup, bay-BAY! (That's for Mike Hirn and Nate Stidham)
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