Being a Sports Commentator

Pick one of your favorite, most vivid sports memories.
Mine? January 4, 2006. The Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. The University of Texas vs. University of Southern California. The two best teams in the country. The National Championship.
I remember being more excited for this game more than most, if any at that point in my life. My mother and I (mostly me, I imagine, but my mother was more than willing to oblige) made this game a big deal. We made predictions, myself siding with USC; my mother with the Longhorns – my first sports bet. We kept track of every stat, or at least the stats a 6-year-old would understand, during the game. I remember cheering for the Trojans with a passionate intensity. There were no school connections or a deep, imbedded love for Southern California. I just really liked Reggie Bush.
My main memory of the game, however, is probably the one most people have. Texas had the ball at the USC nine-yard line. It was 4th & 5. Everything led up to this moment. Texas’ quarterback, Vince Young, took the snap, looked through his progressions, rolled right and took off running. This moment made Young a legend. The words spoken by late Keith Jackson, play-by-play commentator for the game, for me, etched it all in stone.
“He’s going for the corner, he’s got it!” Jackson said, as Young walked, untouched, into the USC endzone and into college football folklore.
I watch this play every now and again. Jackson’s words still bring me back to being a kid.
Why did I mention any of this?
The sports commentator has always fascinated me. The ability to describe what is happening in a sport with such clarity. Such perfection.
Growing up, I knew, just like 99 percent of the general populous, I would never be an athlete at any high level. I played baseball, which ended where most illustrious baseball careers terminate: the end of little league. I gave football a go, sprained my finger during the first practice, and that’s a wrap. I went winless in two years of recreation basketball. Frankly, I sucked at sports.
Play-by-play commentary attracted me. The sayings. The knowledge. The moments. All of it interested me. I would sometimes watch games mimicking the play-by-play guy.
As I grew up, and as my athletic prowess mirrored the housing market of 2008, I tried to find ways of being involved with sports without actually playing them. I recorded my high school’s soccer games, sent game recaps to local newspapers and made highlight videos. I never pursued commentary. I simply didn’t believe in myself.
I came to St. Bonaventure, and knew if wanted to, I could get involved in play-by-play. I didn’t right away. I tried hosting a radio show at the Buzz, but I wasn’t the best, or even good. When I wasn’t hiding behind the cliché of classic rock, I would stumble through my sentences when on-air, far too underprepared to sound competent. I still didn’t believe in myself. I feared failing.
A year went by, and it was time to pick classes. I registered in the sports production class offered by the Jandoli School. In truth, I didn’t know if this class even counted as a real one. I just wanted to get back into being a part of sports despite not playing one. In class, our professor, Rick Karnath, went through the roles of a sports broadcast. Play-by-play commentator was one of them. “Here is a chance,” I thought. Why not push myself? Just for once. I asked for the play-by-play position and professor Karnath was kind enough to give it to me.
So now what? I got the job. How do I do the job?
I prepared. I prepared some more. And then I went fully Pepe Silvia from “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” I researched, looking for the smallest of facts or interesting bits I could use. I did the manila folder trick like many commentators do. I repeated names over and over again, despite the hatred of hearing my own voice constantly creep in.
By today, Friday, I would have completed my first broadcast as a play-by-play commentator. I don’t know how I did. I haven’t analyzed it. I haven’t re-watched it. My parents and friends have been supportive, which I appreciate, but they would be this way regardless. If this is something I want to do going forward, I want to do I good job. I don’t want to do the craft a disservice.
Keith Jackson died on January 12, 2018. I was home for winter break when I heard the news on ESPN. I never knew he called the national championship in 2006 until he died, just over 12 years later. In one of the many eulogies for Jackson, one quote from him stuck out. In an interview, Jackson described the role of a play-by-play commentator in a short, powerful phrase.
“Amplify, clarify, but never intrude,” Jackson said.
I hope I can do that.