What mute buttons were invented for

I watch a lot of football; this makes me unpopular with my girlfriend who, in true girly cliché style, doesn’t like it. She only allows my sporting indulgences if it is “one of my teams”. She also wails that I’ll ...“watch any football and there’s no need”. Women, I don’t know…

However, I’m starting to see a connection between watching football and engendering dislike, and it all comes about through the commentary teams. As I am not some paid-up Murdoch-influenced media stooge, you can be sure that I hold no bias when saying that Sky’s Martin Tyler and Andy Gray are commentating gods.

Tyler is cool and erudite with his schoolmasterly voice, which occasionally breaks with emotion for goals and suchlike, and is truly a king amongst men. He even has a little catchphrase now, grandly announcing “AND IT’S LIVE” prior to the momentum-killing break before kick-off. Then there’s Gray, with his dulcet Scottish tones enunciating wisdom to all. It’s a commentary feast and we’re spoilt.

Then there’s the studio, with the hirsute Richard Keys competently manning the tiller. Guests of the calibre of Souness, Gullit and Wilkins always seem to have something useful or different to say. The boundless puppy-dog enthusiasm and frequent labelling of everything as “top, top” by Jamie Redknapp is massively irritating, as is his whole demeanour, but this is just a blemish. Thinking about it, my girlfriend doesn’t seem to moan half as much when he is on; probably a coincidence.

However, we must finally come back to our beloved terrestrial channels. I was perusing football365’s famous mailbox the other week, and there was some frightful bile being thrown around vis-à-vis the commentating at the European Championships. One man even kindly reprinted an email he had sent to the BBC, which was of a serious tone more suited to the Gettysburg Address than some frivolous complaint. However, I did find myself nodding along with some of the more sensible accusations.

For instance, what does Alan Shearer do that a particularly bright parrot couldn’t? He either repeats something the admittedly sage Alan Hansen says or talks us through the clip in question. “Well the man got to the line, hit the ball in and the other man nodded it in”. Really Alan? Thanks, my own two eyes and the television screen had just already given me that information. Though many denigrate Gary Lineker and his sometime puerile antics (Van der Fart anyone?), I actually really like him, and Martin O’Neill probably has something good to say if he could ever get it out past his wild gesticulations. Thankfully, they released Ian Wright, whose “look how patriotic I am lads” jingoism got weary very quickly.

It is in the gantry that the BBC really let themselves down. Motson, gawd bless ‘im, is a national institution, and should not be sat next to the frankly execrable Mark Lawrenson. His crimes are many, but his complete lack of insight is staggering. Worse still is the sardonic, world-weary sarcasm he adopts, casually insulting his co-commentator and everyone around him.

When another sly, completely mirthless ‘quip’ escapes his mouth I can just imagine him reclining louchely on a chaise-longue, looking at himself in a small hand-mirror and sniggering at the world below. Jonathan Pearce does a stand-up job, but I find Mark Bright altogether more troubling. His sighs and disappointed tones whenever something goes wrong seem to indicate that the players, far from letting the country or their team down, were actually offending him with their incompetence.

ITV are not particularly blame-free either. Their crimes are of a lesser severity but are there nonetheless. Gabby Logan fronts well as eye-candy, and shoe-horning Steve Rider anywhere he would fit was quite inspired, as he lends gravitas. What I find embarrassing is that Robbie Earle, formerly of Wimbledon, is telling players like Deco, Ronaldo, Kaka et al on a regular basis where they are going wrong. It would be a bit like a painter and decorator squinting up at the Sistine Chapel ceiling and pointing out where Michelangelo went wrong. At least Andy Townsend played at a World Cup, so has some credibility. This isn’t a personal attack on Robbie Earle as I like him, it just seems weird.

Finally, here is a little poser; what do the Holy Grail, the meaning of life and ITV’s employment of David Pleat have in common? Hint: it isn’t anything to do with Pythonesque buffoonery. Answer: They are all unknowable mysteries…

David Pleat’s mumbling, nigh-on incomprehensible statements of the obvious make me want to cry. From “Paul Shoals” to “Abracadabravic” the man has mispronounced names from across the footballing globe. He also clearly shares a notepad with Shearer, blandly stating the obvious and attempting to offer it as pearls of wisdom.

It strikes me that he must sit there under a blanket, and just before kick-off Tyldesley lifts the sheet from over him, rubs his tummy, and he springs to cognisance, ready to talk dusty nonsense all over again. This is to say nothing of his seemingly homo-erotic longing for Didier Drogba, which manifests itself way too often. It is not all bad, however, with Jim Beglin an unsung hero of ITV’s coverage. He frequently offers something valid to say, and does it without fuss and without wildly mispronouncing names.

The tone is light, but the point is valid. The standard of analysis and commentary has nosedived recently, and shows no sign of abating. This would be a moot point if it wasn’t for the fact that these people are paid sickeningly good money and provide next-to-nothing. Being involved in football or having played football does not sufficiently qualify you to analyse it, a fact seemingly lost on many in the sport departments of BBC and ITV. If you are going to pay that amount of money, at least get some quality. That’s my final thought, and for all our sakes let’s just hope they pick up on it sooner rather than later.