Common-taries

A lot of people enjoy watching sport live, or reading about it, listening or viewing it in the media.

The broadcast medium is one where live match commentary is essential, but much of it displays extremely poor understanding on the part of commentators about the role of their showmanship in hosting. Undoubtedly they are enthusiastic about their connection with the sport being covered, but a lot of commentary by the so-called knowledgeable is nothing less than the loud-mouthing of their personal attitudes, opinions and possible lack of actual playing experience, evidenced by the almost hysterical shrieking about trivia.

A player scores a try, one aim of the game, yet this becomes a time of hyperbole.

A tennis player plays a shot which beats an opponent – so what?

A batsman hits a six …just doing what he's there for!

One function of description is to point out aspects which may not be easy for viewers or listeners to follow. It is not necessary to tell the audience what they already see or hear; they don't have to be told what they know already.

Television sometimes suffers when the view of larger tactics on the field is often being missed during close-up cutaways of action. Here, a commentator can put the run of play into context, but always the mood and tone of the description must marry with the actual speed and importance of moves.

Instead, what do we get? Maniacal screams of comment about a perfectly normal part of the game or race.

This is especially irritating during replays of sports events during TV news broadcasts, when the rather clichéd style of news report writing and editing finds short yelled commentary used as aural punctuation bursts during cutaways.

Firstly in radio, later in television, I had the great pleasure of working with one of racing's leading commentators, Ken Howard.

Apart from knowing his stuff thoroughly, Ken also knew just how much excitement to allow in his description of a horse race. He was a true showman, a master of the understated yet colourful explanation.

He would use his unique phrases to describe a certainty of a win as being "London to a brick on", or his synonym for a finish as "greeting the judge". His style was certainly the right horse for the course, and he would never shout, unless something truly dramatic or unexpected happened.

Perhaps he, too, admired the laid back polished style of one particular English racing commentator which impressed me so much as a child when I watched the cinema newsreels (remember those days)? His commentary of a top racing event was in a totally accurate, informational yet minimum-of-fuss style.

Another commentator who displayed restrained enthusiasm within an aura of showman professionalism was Tony Greig. I never worked with Tony on cricket coverage, yet got to know him well during television commercial shoots which I directed. He had a calm, laid-back approach to everything, as well as an ability to mock his own nationality, as he did on one occasion when he asked me not to bear him a grudge when he needed to take a short rest break, and commented jokingly: "You know what a grudge is, don't you? It's where a South African parks his car".

He and Ken contrasted dramatically with American sports commentaries where the most mundane of events became a cue for shrill celebration.

I fear also that early radio entertainment in the U.S. coloured the style of emerging local radio, and later television, commentators, who reckon that louder, crasser, and faster, is better. My professional voice-over artist friends and acquaintances would understand this well.

The questions of tone, emotion and feelings of delivery appropriateness during performances arise constantly for those who present in front of an audience - to whom would you prefer to hear sing 'Ave Maria'; The Sex Pistols, or Luciano Pavarotti?

If I was producing and directing television coverage of rugby league today, I would keep all commentary strictly as background or amplifying information about what was showing on-screen.

I would make maximum use of crowd microphones to gather immediate public response to a move, and mic. the referees and other judges to capture any verbal interplay with players. I would let the visuals tell the story with audio only where relevant.

I would also coach my commentators in the rudiments of theatrical presentation, so that they could recognise the significance of an event and accord it the degree of enthusiasm it needed. I would never tolerate their unbridling shrieking or screaming of a commentary at an audience.

But then … would this be too high a delivery expectation from sporting bogans?