bradley headstone
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Posted: March 12th 2008
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Wither the football commentator.
For most of us, work is about earning enough to live our lives; it’s not about enjoyment or aspiration, it’s paddling furiously to keep our heads above water.
So it’s not surprising that sometimes we get the blues, we just get plain bored and it’s hard to hide. Our colleagues notice, we lose our temper and we don’t do the standard of work that we expect of ourselves.
At least we don’t expose our disaffection to thousands of people every weekend. Alan Green does. It is my opinion that Alan Green hates his job. It is my opinion that Alan Green ought to try something different…something away from broadcasting.
I don’t want you to think that I’m particularly picking on ‘Greenie’ as he’s affectionately known by…well by other commentators. I suspect that part of the commentator’s lot is to divide opinion. I’m sure that even as Kenneth Wolstenholme was uttering the words ‘…it is now’, there was someone bellowing ‘oh shut up!’ right back at him. It’s just that Green embodies a hectoring, self-regarding belligerence that he substitutes for genuine insight and communication.
I’ve tried to look for a pattern with his senseless ranting, Sir Alex Ferguson is convinced that he’s a Liverpool fan, but I can’t say I’ve noticed any particular bias against Manchester United. He does seem to find watching Middlesbrough ‘diabolical’ or ‘very poor’, but again I’d suspect that regular denizens of the Riverside might agree.
There will be deluded supporters who find this incandescent bluster endearing. They’ll mention how important it is we keep ‘characters’ in the game. I largely agree, as long as those characters are Roy Keane, Jimmy Bullard or Ian Holloway, not those whose job is to disseminate and communicate what they see before them. I would have fewer problems with Green if he concentrated on his primary purpose, telling me what is going on.
I have a theory that he was bullied, either at school or earlier in his career. Amateur psychology I know, but there’s something about the way he picks at a particular irritant, going on and on and on! His relish in defeating an easy target is barely hidden. 606 gives him another opportunity to exercise this power trip. The presenter has the power to cut the caller off and Green is ruthless, any sense that someone might disagree with his jaundiced view is his cue and mid-sentence the irksome caller is gone. Doesn’t really make for great radio though.
The rotund Green is not alone mind. It’s possible that the two are related, but at a time where there is more football on the television and radio than ever before, the standard of commentary and punditry feels like it’s at it’s lowest. Like referees the best ones are the ones you don’t notice, the ones whose name you can’t quite place. Once a commentator makes a name for themselves they go over to the dark side, a world where self inflated ego meets puritan ‘keeper of the game’s values’. From there you are a short step from the slippery slope towards the inanity of Motson or Moore’s inability to tell Ian Wright and Sol Campbell apart.
The inexorable rise of the pundit has given rise to legions of ex-players wittering away on local radio stations or channel Five, hoping for a call from one of the big boys, Match of the Day 2 or Soccer Saturday. It’s not for everyone. The ideal pundit should have an element of ‘character’, be slightly deranged, and suffer inarticulacy every time a significant event occurs. Phil Thompson is as good a role model as you’ll get here.
The premier league of verbal incontinence is the colour pundit, those brave men who tread the path forged by pioneers like Trevor Brooking. Their job is to allow the commentator a chance to breathe and they generally have developed ‘characters’ beyond the mere facial tick and splutter of the norm. Lawrenson’s careworn ageing lothario, every tired bit of banter with Motson screams irony, or how about the carefully hewn bombast of Andy Gray, controversial only when you realise that for all his vocal dexterity, he’s not actually saying anything!
If you think I’m alone in spending too much time mulling over punditry, try e-mailing the good burghers at Goalfood Towers with your fond reminiscenses of Jim Beglin or Jimmy Armfield!
The most remarkable of sporting punditry happens on that great institution, Match of the Day. A brief wander down the goalfood archives will reveal my assertion that the Gary Linacre we see on television is in fact a replicon, an android if you will. The whole programme is the Stepford Wives of sports broadcasting. They are now so frightened of upsetting anyone in football that all the main protagonists have been replaced by replicons…you don’t believe me? Next time Schmeichel's on (er, didn’t they give him the boot? – Ed), have a close look at his nose…it’s no longer red! Only Shearer is the real thing, he needed no reprogramming.
Back in the day, as we who can remember pre-Sky football say, we had the option of turning down the sound on the live football and switching the radio on. Green will still occasionally suggest this, in fact the BBC often give you the option via the ‘red’ button. Motson or Green…not much of an option is it! But hold fast, they give you a third option…crowd noise only. Now that is progress.