The Sports Truth

When the New York Yankees were eliminated from the playoffs a few weeks ago, I (along with many other non-Yankee fans) thought, “Thank the Lord I can watch baseball in peace, without the agony of hoping the Yankees don’t win, and can simply enjoy the baseball games.”

For a while, this was true.

I had the luxury of being sent by my editors at The Sports Truth to Shea Stadium to cover Game 1 of the NLCS. As my friend Fischer and I sat down in our seats 45 minutes before the first pitch, soaking in the sights and sounds of nervous anticipation from the Mets faithful, I thought to myself “there’s nothing like the baseball playoffs” even if my beloved Red Sox were long out of the pennant chase.

From the cheers of “Yankees Suck!” when a wayward Yankee fan, confused that his team was still not playing baseball, stood up in a Robinson Cano jersey, to the absolute explosion of the 54,000+ when Carlos Beltran hit his two-run homer and watching the crowd go bonkers, I thoroughly enjoyed my first Shea Stadium and NLCS experience, even if Shea stinks.

I’m not a Mets or Cardinals fan, but the experience, along with Fischer’s excitement, had me rooting for the Mets and excited to watch. With the Yanks out of it and Fox stalwarts Tim McCarver and Joe Buck left without a bloated franchise to all but openly root for on national TV, I figured my abhorrent distaste for the Fox broadcasting duo couldn’t quell my baseball enjoyment.

I was sorely mistaken.

The following day, I went over to Fischer’s to watch Game 2 of the NLCS, fully expecting an easy Mets win en route to a World Series birth. During the course of the game, I didn’t pay much attention to Buck or McCarver, instead keeping the volume low and conversing with my friend about our two favorite second basemen — “the thug” Ronnie Belliard and “el Presidente” Jose Valentin (’cause he looks like he could be the president of Mexico with that iron jaw… that or Kevin Federline) among other inane topics.

Guillermo Mota imploded in the eighth inning, Scott Spiezio did his best Derek Jeter impersonation (much to McCarver’s delight) and the room went silent. Fischer was livid and didn’t want to discuss. Suddenly I’m forced to listen to Buck and, far worse, McCarver. It all came streaming back, like a nightmare.

The man is truly an unstoppable force. Think about it. How can a guy like McCarver, who does everything short of wear a Yankees cap in the booth, or, when not calling Yankee games, spews verbal diarrhea about baseball, keep his job? He has the pinnacle of all baseball color broadcasting jobs and he’s horrendous.

This is it? Really, McCarver is the best? Not only is he objectionable and nonsensical, he’s often downright incorrect. The famous miscue of Bronson Arroyo to Brandon Arroyo in the 2004 playoffs was not a one-time slip up. Tim made similar gaffes multiple times during that series. In Game 7 of the NLCS, after Endy Chavez turned in one of all-time best postseason catches (below), McCarver proceeded to confuse him with A’s third baseman Eric Chavez.

But McCarver’s offenses go beyond mistaking people’s names — certainly something like that is forgivable (once or twice). No, this carelessness is not what makes one jump out of one’s seat and scream “what the (bleep) are you talking about?”

No, that occurs when he starts telling us about baseball as if his audience is seven years old, and pontificates incorrectly at that. This is when the remote is thrown, the TV gets muted, and the spasms on the sofa commence — or whatever your McCarver outburst of choice might be (mine is the spasm followed by high-pitched yelling).

Take Game 3 of the World Series, for instance.

The Cardinals load the bases with one out in the bottom of the 4th inning and, up until now, McCarver has had very little with which to annoy his audience. But he decides to spurt out this paraphrased gem regarding the batter — “The Thug,” Belliard, who, inexplicably, is hitting fifth:

“Right now, Ronnie Belliard wants to make sure he puts the ball on the ground. If he strikes out or hits a fly ball that isn’t deep enough to score the runner from third, the Cardinals will lose the opportunity to score a ‘cheap run.’”

What is a “cheap run” (no one asked, mind you)? It’s when a team is able to score a run on a double play, Tim informs us. A double play? Belliard’s biggest concern should be making sure he hits the ball on the ground so a run can score on a double play?

What’s wrong with a two-run scoring single? Or even a strikeout, for that matter? Wouldn’t you rather sacrifice just one out for the opportunity to score two, than two outs for one run? It’s the 4th inning of a tie game and the Cardinals are at home. Why are they playing for one run? It makes me mad thinking about it.

[Interestingly, Belliard followed my advice, and McCarver’s, by hitting the ball on the ground -- but slow enough to third base so that Brandon Inge’s only play was to get the force out at home. With only one out and no runs in, Jim Edmonds (left) ripped a double down the right field line scoring two runs -- exactly as I had suggested.]

Here’s the thing. McCarver is not the only poor announcer in baseball or even sports. Certainly Buck is barely better. But Tim is the undisputed champion right now. He’s like Mike Tyson in the early ’90s, there’s no legitimate challenger. But just because McCarver is a poor — nay, awful — sports announcer amongst a community of them, doesn’t mean it has to be this way.

There are plenty of good announcers. The sterling example of broadcasting excellence is the ESPN College Game Day crew. I’m not a college football fan, but those guys are professional, fun, knowledgeable, succinct, and above all, enjoyable. The list doesn’t end there, either. Jim Miller, Gus Johnson, Marv Albert, Al Michaels, Mike Tirico, Sean McDonough, are just a few excellent broadcasters.

The world of color commentary, McCarver’s field, is more muddled, but the recipe is easy to follow. Names such as Phil Simms, Bill Raftery, and even Bill Walton have figured it out — discuss the play in a reaction fashion, not proactive. Don’t interject personal opinion. Talk about the game as if there were no names for the players of coaches.

In other words, don’t tell me what Tony LaRussa is thinking or why Belliard should bunt in this particular situation. Give me a reason as to why the Cardinals chose not to bunt, or a possible reason why Jim Leyland decided to bring in Joel Zumaya. McCarver is not on the field making the decisions, so his opinion of what should happen or what a player is thinking is irrelevant.

Before the Mets were eliminated, my editors offered to send me back to Shea Stadium for Game 5 of the World Series to give a running diary of what transpired (unfortunately, travel considerations and ticket availability prevent us for being able to send me to Detroit or St. Louis).

My initial reaction was to decline the offer, thinking I could write the diary from home with a similar effect (outside of the fact that I’m not a Mets fan). After my enjoyment of Game 1 of the NLCS and subsequent disgust with Buck and McCarver during their World Series broadcasts, I might be “forced” to attend every Fox game in person until McCarver is gone… or risk damaging my couch in a McCarver-triggered tirade.

Posted in Baseball, Sports Broadcasting, Tim McCarver