![]() ![]() At a certain point, Marv became the voice of basketball. Same as anytime I used to tune into a basketball game called by the now retired Marv Albert. He can even make shit like Thursday Night Football seem far more vital than it is. When he does a game I’m watching, I know it’s an event. All I really want out of my play-by-play man is a voice that you could drop an olive on a toothpick into. I don’t feel like he’s talking down to me from his lofty perch above the action.īest of all, Buck’s got the timbre. I know their limits and I know that Joe Buck works well within his. ![]() I’d like him to say HEY MAN COLE BEASLEY IS A REAL SACK OF SHIT anytime Cole Beasley appears on my screen, but I’ve been watching sports long enough to know that all play-by-play announcers are, by choice or not, company men and women. Like Michaels, Buck is good at letting you know what he thinks, sometimes without outright saying it. I get enough wry asides from Buck during every game that I know there’s an actual person behind the mic and not just a fucking automaton. He does that by getting the basics right, avoiding breathless overpraising, and by layering on a faint-but-critical touch of sardonicism. While Buck has been flanked over the year by NUMEROUS doodoo-brained megalomaniacs, he’s essentially served as audible shelter from those very same men. You don’t spend this long at the top if you’re some hapless failson with a perpetually cracking larynx and no grasp of the sport you’re covering. Joe Buck is not his father’s son anymore. Enjoy his call of the Cubs winning it all for a sampling: You can’t write the history of 21st century baseball without him, and there’s a LOT of history there. He’s been the voice of the World Series, the only voice of it, for even longer. Those worst Joe Buck moments I outlined up above? They’re all over a decade old now. All I know of Joe Buck is what I see of him on my television, and what I see I almost always enjoy. In fact, Joe Buck may hate my fucking guts, given that I once worked at a site that once published a rumor about him hitting on ladies in Vegas right after he’d gotten a vasectomy. But I myself have never corresponded with Joe Buck, so my opinion of him is, at least as of right now, untainted by the vagaries of access. He used to trade emails with some of the people I worked with back in my time at Deadspin, once inviting an inebriated AJ Daulerio up into the Fox broadcast booth during a game. Please note that I don’t know Joe Buck at all. So I’ve been discreet, both with you and myself, about how I really feel about Buck the Younger’s body of work. Louis Cardinals play-by-play man Jack Buck. Also, when I think of Joe Buck, I’ve been trained, by digital osmosis, to remember him chiefly for his worst moments as a professional: his tepid call of the David Tyree helmet catch, Artie Lange blowing up his HBO show before it even got off the ground, and, of course, “ That is a disgusting act by Randy Moss.” Those are all inarguably down moments for a guy who got his break in television thanks to being the son of legendary St. Nothing I say will convince you otherwise. This is because once people hate an announcer, they’ll always hate them. I’ve never bothered defending Joe Buck to people over the years. Al Michaels is one such constant in my life. After all, there isn’t a lot to say about an announcer you like, because the best ones let the games speak for themselves and have the timbre to match the moment. Hating them is my truest passion, and hopefully yours.īut I have soft spots, which for the most part I keep to myself. I have built a career, a life even, despising these people. I have a mental Rolodex of announcers who, over the years, have summoned within me a distanced rage that I have grown to cherish: Phil Simms, Chris Berman, Matt Millen, Tony Kornheiser, Jim Nantz, Mark Jackson, Tedy Bruschi, Moose Johnston, Reggie Miller, John Sterling, Larry Michael, Paul Maguire, Joe Theismann, Billy Packer, Tim McCarver, Mark Schlereth, Mike Patrick, Bill Maas, Steve Levy if you give me long enough, etc. īy law, you as a sports fan are entitled to despise every studio yakker, every play-by-play announcer, and every analyst you encounter. And buy Drew’s new book, The Night The Lights Went Out, through here. Got something you wanna contribute? Email the Roo. All Rights Reserved.Drew Magary’s Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday at Defector during the NFL season. ![]()
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