"Look at his face…just look at his face”
Frankly I can’t believe that Barry Davies is in his seventieth year! (I quite literally bumped into him in a Soho street last year, he looked very much the septugenerian – star-stalking Ed).This is a man whose voice described much of my formative sports viewing and played a part in making me the couch potato I am today.
That’s not particularly fair, but I don’t think that would faze a man who hasn’t always been dealt a fair hand by the BBC, if he had it may have been more George Best and less Torvill and Dean (Barry will tell you he’s always enjoyed commentating on a wide variety of sports, but for my money, the pinnacle is being first choice for the big football matches).
I’d make Davies just about the best Football Commentator that TV has had. I know this is a controversial opinion; you don’t spend a whole car journey defending Jimmy Armfield against attack from this site’s very own editor without realising that an individual’s idea of the ideal commentator or pundit is very subjective. But if you care to go mano a mano with me over the opposition, I’d fancy my chances. (I feel an Armfield article coming on – aforementioned Ed)
The reflex choice is John Motson, but have you actually bothered to listen to him recently.? The doyen of the sheepskin jacket is now reduced to playing his own straight man and audience as he spends whole tournaments trying to crowbar puns into his commentary and then punctuating them with his own irritating ‘ha!’
It’s my suspicion that he has always been this bad, but for many years he was paired with Trevor Brooking, who would begin a piece of punditry and minutes later you’d realise that the bizarre buzzing noise emanating from your telly was Brooking’s never ending sentence… ‘nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnaaaaahwhippinindemcrosses!’… (not forgetting his ubiquitous ‘nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnmmmmyolclubwestam’ – Ed again).
By comparison Motson was a paragon of communication.
More recently he’s had Mark Lawrenson as a partner and ‘Lawro’ barely acknowledges Motson’s presence, indeed, if I’m not listening and ‘Lawro’ doesn’t care I suspect Motson will cease to be!
Traditionalists, once you’ve established that the group you are discussing the topic with haven’t actually heard Kenneth Wolstenholme say much more than ’…it is now’, would be quick to champion Brian Moore. Fair enough, anyone mentioned in a Half Man Half Biscuit song deserves some recognition. I’ll go as far as to admit that his commentary on Arsenal winning the league in 88 still sends a shiver down my spine. I’m no Arsenal fan, but check out the quote on one of goalfood’s fine garments…great stuff. (hurry, it’s in the sale! – Ed: http://www.goalfood.com/shop/acatalog/goalfood_0009.html)
But Moore got old before he finished and his final seasons were a parody of his best. Most sports commentators will occasionally get two black players confused, for Moore it became almost his signature. I know he’s under pressure but Ian Wright and Sol Campbell?
Tyldesly, synonymous with Man Utd’s last minute victory in the European Cup, has become increasingly hysterical and is too obviously a Liverpool fan. Jonathan Pearce is alright in small doses and his epic “I know in the spirit of international fair play as a commentator you are expected to remain neutral but I’d just like to say C’MON ENGLAND” (I know I’m paraphrasing, but goalfood’s not done that T shirt yet), before an England v Poland qualifier is the stuff of legend. What really rankles with Pearce is his chumminess with the players and his self-alleged knowledge of the London footy scene, irrelevant Jonathan, irrelevant!
And so the list goes on, nowadays it’s hard to know who’s commentating, although even I can tell a Ferrington from a Wilson or a Mowbray.
So, I think I’ve successfully established Davies’ credentials as the best in his field (well on terrestrial TV maybe… - Ed), is it enough to want to read his book though? I’d say yes. If nothing else it describes a world of broadcasting that’s only fifteen years past yet feels like a hundred years ago. A time when David Coleman shouting ONE-NIL was enough to let a generation of pipe smoking, cardigan clad chaps and their identikit sons know that all was all right with the world.
As autobiographies go, it’s fairly standard fare. Davies’ journey is probably very similar to most of his colleagues, but it’s when the BBC began to regularly choose Motson over Davies for the big games and Davies’ barely concealed anger that lights a fire under this book. He doesn’t go directly for Motty, but I don’t suppose little John ever let himself be alone in a room with Davies. His real beef is with the faceless, though not nameless producers who made the decision.
I’m not saying Davies is perfect, at his most pompous he can be a little too po-faced, as soon as he starts a sentence, “you have to say…”, you know it’ s going to be followed by a “…that sort of thing has no place on a football pitch” or “…that tackle was utterly disgraceful”, frankly I can make my own mind up.
As the football doors have closed, other sporting doors have opened. Come any Olympic games, summer or winter and you’ll find Davies gainfully employed covering all manner of sports. Personally I can’t see how you could manage it, but for Davies, the trick appears to be, treat every moment in every sport as the most important ever. It was a formula to what was perhaps his crowning commentary, the 1988 Olympic Hockey final and GB’s unlikely victory sealed with Davies’ ecstatic “…and where were the Germans, but frankly who cares!”
Whilst defining the art of the commentator, Davies has shown something rare amongst his kind, a sense of the ridiculousness of what he does. I can’t think of another top line commentator who would appear in a Robbie Williams video and for many seasoned viewers, Davies’ best performance was his commentary for Big Train’s ‘World Stare-Out Championships’. You can get the Big Train DVD for a pittance these days, worth it for Davies alone.
Barry Davies will always remain an enigma and not because he’s failed to be fully recognised as the greatest commentator of his generation. Oh no, the big question that will always follow Davies around surrounds the recently retired baby faced assassin, Ole Gunner Solksjaer. Why did he insist on calling him Zolzjiiiiiihhhreer?
Interesting, Very Interesting by Barry Davies is out now, published by Headline
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