As a fan there are some drawbacks to Sunday Night Football. The first is staying up late and trying to get through an entire work day without needing the Fred Flintstone toothpicks to hold my eyes open. The second is that is goes up against The Walking Dead. This season of “The Dead” has been stellar,and I hope to catch bits at halftime. Those are sacrifices I am willing to make knowing that the Buccaneers and Rams fans don’t have to make these choices.
One of the benefits of Sunday Night on NBC is the announcing duo of Al Michaels and Cris Collinsworth means that Jim Nantz and Phil Simms won’t invade my living room. It’s not so much that Michaels and Collinsworth are good (they are), it’s that Nantz and Simms are almost unlistenable. Whenever I hear Simms nonsensical ramblings I know how Ray Nitschke’s character felt in the original “Longest Yard” when he is allowed to rush the QB just so Burt Reynolds call drill him in the junk with pass after pass. (This is not to be confused with the remake in which Adam Sandler looked like the third best player on a slow pitch softball team, rather than a former NFL QB. Burt, on the other hand, looked like he could have gone to any training camp and competed for a job). Two weeks ago against Denver, the ball hadn’t even been kicked and Simms was at it. He was amazed that the Pats had won the opening toss and deferred to the second half. His reaction was like he had discovered a non-Cialis cure for erectile dysfunction. I know he’s spent a great deal of time in Denver, making sure Peyton Manning’s nether regions are clean, but this showed both a lack of preparation and ignorance of a piece of strategy the Patriots have used for several years now. Additionally, Simms refuses to take a side on a play, unless he is agreeing with an officials call that is clearly wrong. There are many that times when it is abundantly apparent the Nantz is frustrated with his partner’s ambivalence. Simms can take a replay and describe something that did not show up on camera, because it never happened. I guess that’s a talent.
Nantz is another story entirely. He is not horrible; he’s just smarmy. He reminds me of a salesman who just won’t leave you alone at a car dealership. The type of guy who has knowledge a mile wide and an inch deep. Every signature line is clearly written and pondered prior to the game’s final moment. How many cheesy “One Shining Moment” just miss lines have ruined the final seconds of the NCAA Tournament? (A quick aside- Gus Johnson, now of Fox, should have been given the top mic gig for March Madness) There is nothing genuine about Nantz, and it shows in the biggest moments.
Compare those two with CBS’ top college football duo, Verne Lundquist and Gary Danielson, and you’ll see a marked difference. Danielson makes some mistakes identifying players, but his analysis is spot on. He is not afraid to actually (gently) criticize players and (more forcefully) coaches. “Uncle” Verne is a legend because he is authentic. His homespun nature and the obvious fact that he actually gives a crap about the players, coaches, and the game. Along with Verne’s genuine nature, there is his signature call- “Yes Sir!” on the 17th hole at the ’86 Masters, as Jack Nicklaus made his improbable and historic charge. There was nothing contrived, nothing planned, no shoe horning of a corporate motto; it was an announcer having a genuine moment when he was rooting for an athlete and nobody minded.
I’d love to see Verne and Gary roll into Foxboro some Sunday, for a refreshing change. Since Nantz and Simms have a stranglehold on the top booth for CBS’s NFl coverage, that won’t happen.
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