There is a sports fan who does not watch a World Cup game so much as narrate it for everyone within earshot. I’m not talking about analyzing it or providing an interesting observation. I’m talking narrating it.
“Two minutes left in the first half!”
Thank you. We noticed the clock on the screen and even caught glimpses of the massive LED one in the stadium when the camera angle was right.
“Corner kick!”
Yes, that would explain why the player is standing by the corner flag with the ball.
“Yellow card!”
Good catch. For a second there, I thought FIFA had introduced purple cards for warnings just for this World Cup, and yellow stood for signaling the concession stand that you need a beer.
I was watching the Canada-Morocco World Cup game with friends at our hangout when a nearby patron – not part of our group – slipped into that role. The self-appointed play-by-play announcer. Every obvious thing on the screen needed to be announced out loud, as if the rest of us had suddenly lost the ability to see. I mean, there are four big-screen TVs at least 72 inches across each in the place, with one on each side.
Then Morocco scored.
“The goalie just missed that by a few inches.”
Really? We somehow missed that during the live play, the slow-motion replay from behind the net, the replay from midfield, the up-close replay, the reverse angle, the overhead camera, and the close-up of the goalkeeper watching it go in and hit the mesh.
A little later – near the end of the game, with Morocco up 2-0 – the fourth official held up the electronic board.
“Eight minutes of stoppage time!”
Thank you again. The entire bar restaurant failed to notice the giant illuminated number being held over his head while the television graphic displayed “8:00” and the commentators discussed why there would be eight minutes.
It reminded me of the person who stands in a rainstorm and says, “It’s really coming down.” Yes. We’re all standing in the same rain. Or the person in a restaurant who watches the servers for three minutes and suddenly appoints himself floor manager. “They should open another section.” Hmm, maybe that section is closed because a party of 10 reserved it and will be here shortly.
Sports simply has its own version.
There is nothing wrong with talking during a game. That’s part of the fun. Half the reason to watch at a restaurant rather than at home is the shared experience. The cheers, the groans, the nervous laughter, and the collective gasp when a dangerous cross flies into the penalty area. Complete strangers become teammates for ninety minutes.
That part is wonderful. What is not wonderful is providing a running narration of things every person in the room has already seen.
A player lines up for a free kick.
“Free kick!”
A goalkeeper catches the ball.
“Keeper’s got it!”
A substitute stands beside the fourth official.
“They’re making a change!”
At some point you want to ask, “Are you looking for some kind of validation from us to confirm what we can all see?”
Now, if someone wants to explain why a team keeps getting caught offside, why the midfield is losing possession, or why the coach should make a tactical substitution, I’m all ears. That’s conversation that adds something
Simply announcing what just happened two seconds after everyone watched it happen isn’t commentary. It’s closed captioning with a pulse.
The funny thing is, I’m sure people who do this don’t even realize they’re doing it. They’re excited. They’re caught up in the match. Sports has a way of turning perfectly normal adults into living remote controls.
“Shoot!”
“Pass it!”
“Get it out!”
As though the players, thousands of miles away, have been waiting all tournament for strategic advice from a restaurant in Buckhorn.
And yes, I’ve probably done some version of it myself over the years. We all blurt things out during big moments.
But there’s a difference between reacting and narrating. Reacting is natural. Narrating every obvious development is like Captain Obvious grabbing the microphone and refusing to give it back.
By the end of the match, I was almost waiting for the grand finale.
“The referee blew the whistle! The game is over.”
Really? I thought they were going to play until Thursday.
The best sports conversations happen in the spaces between the obvious. The “why” instead of the “what.” Why was that defender out of position? Why didn’t Canada attack down the wings more often? Why did the coach wait so long to make a substitution?
That’s the interesting stuff.
But “corner kick”?
“Eight minutes of stoppage time”?
“The goalie almost had it”?
We know. We’re watching too.
johnberkovich.com 