Yawkey Talk

Cream of the Crop: Worst TV Sports Personalities II

Joe Buck and Tim McCarver

These two go together like a pair of cancerous testicles in an ill-fated sack: On an individual basis, they cause great discomfort and should be surgically removed, yet you will likely survive. But together, they leave you feeling hopeless and empty inside. There is something about the combination of the ever-full of himself Joe Buck and the ever-full of hot air Tim McCarver that makes viewers want to punch through their TVs and then use the shards of glass as a makeshift scalpel with the hopes of removing any memories of the unspeakable horror of their telecast.

Gems like “Right now a walk is as good as a home run,” “Tonight ground balls are finding their way out of the ballpark,” and “Jerek Deter” make it glaringly obvious that McCarver took a few too many Steve Carlton heaters to the face during his playing days, though I wouldn’t be surprised if that was a frequent off the field occurrence between the two as well. Speaking of off the field, McCarver makes sure to make an ass of himself in this realm whenever possible, from having water dumped on him by Deion Sanders, to his brutal TV show, to releasing embarrassing albums of himself swooning like a low-rent Robert Goulet (editors note: YawkeyTalk offers a belated congratulations to Robert Goulet for having the Mustached American of the Year award named after him by the prestigious American Mustache Institute). Speaking of mustaches, Norman Chad sums up Tim McCarver as well as anyone, saying that he’s a person who “when you ask him the time, will tell you how a watch works.”

While Tim McCarver’s show is probably equal to Kramer’s Merv Griffin talk show in terms of its delusion and viewership,  Joe Buck’s HBO show actually generated some hype before it got canceled after a lengthy three episode season. Granted it was only because Artie Lang took over the show to the point where I expected him to claim eminent domain over Joe’s wife, but at least somebody watched, albeit on Youtube. In addition to that failed show, Joe Buck continues to be pompous and is quite simply the Shane McMahon to his father’s Vince McMahon, the George W to his father’s HW. Huge shoes to fill, tries too hard, and by all accounts grade A blowhards. When McCarver joins up to with Buck it’s equivalent to a lonely nerd volunteering at a nursing home with the hope of finding someone incoherent enough to be willing to spend time with him. Just truly depressing stuff that FOX should be chastised for subjecting the American public to.

Cream of the Crop: Worst TV Sports Personalities I

Jim Rome

        Yes, Jim Rome is burning.

        Burning in a way akin to the crotch calamity you contracted after a so called “casual” encounter on Craigslist. Yet unlike the clap, Jim Rome cannot be banished from your life with a prescription for some dick cream, even though dick cream would make sense. Inexplicably, ESPN allows this malignant tumor of douchebaggery and constipated pronunciation to broadcast a show on a daily basis. Luckily he’s not always on, as Romey likes to take quite a few days off from being an insufferable blowhard on television to being one somewhere else, in which case he allows aspiring individuals to try their best impression of him. While none of the hosts have managed to get attacked by a guest yet, that’s likely because technological advancements have not come far enough to the point where reluctant guests who are unwilling to actually appear in person can still assault the host via live video feed. While I am sure Jim Rome is as buddy-buddy with all the athletes as he sounds after the interviews (“Good job BRO!”), it does seem odd that none of his guests are interested in being there in person to be bro-raped on “Alone with Rome.”

        Regardless, the guest hosts have sometimes been able to put on worse shows than Jim because the horrible content of the show is the same, yet without Rome viewers don’t have the daily “is this guy actually speaking like this?” moment which can provide some humor and the reassurance that, worst case scenario, you are only the second biggest tool on the planet. On the usual show, that moment will be the lone high point besieged by a myriad of low points only seen in the depths of the Pacific.

        One such pit of despair is the Forum. This hot dump of a segment features assclowns such as Roger Lodge awkwardly debating with Rome, trying to voice their opinion without angering Rome to the point where he banishes them back home to sit on their couch in their underwear getting nostalgic over reruns of blind date and a bowl of soggy cheerios. After this is the “Final Burn” in which this goateed genital wart final bursts with a mass of ridiculous analogies, obtuse sarcasm, and the random emphasis of certain syllables of words (see: Frank Caliendo). This segment finally puts an end to what can be best described as a combination between a low budget cable access show and Chinese water torture and it leaves the viewer inevitably feeling ridiculous that they would waste a second of their time listening to this man’s worthless opinions.

Cream of the Crop: Super Bowl Sunday

 

Super Bowl Sunday ranks second, just above St. Patty's and just below Thanksgiving on my list of favorite holidays. It's as manly as it gets. Here's what makes it great:

The Hoopla: Super Bowl Sunday is the only day of the year where you don't have to be at the party to feel like you're part of the action. Am I in South Beach? No. Am I going to recreate the environment in my living room/liver? You better believe it. 

The Gambling: Everyone who doesn't suck has their name on a squares sheet at the very least. Degenerates have a grand on Reggie Bush's yards from scrimmage being greater than Kim Kardashian's combined measurements (Getting 35.5 yards? Child please). Everybody wins on Super Bowl Sunday. 

The Food/Drink: Even if you're more of a relax-at-home-for-the-game guy than a let's-burn-this-mother-down type, there's no chance you're not eating mountains of unhealthy delicious food on Super Bowl Sunday. And drinking too much. It's American. 

The Halftime Show: Every once in a while this will be a big letdown (Elvis Presto anyone?), but the halftime show usually lives up to the hype and sometimes exceeds it. Janet Jackson is the obvious one, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't moved during U2's performance after 9/11 in the 2002 Super Bowl. My personal favorite? Prince at the 2007 Super Bowl. Don't ask me why, but this one will always stick with me. He covered everything from "All Along the Watchtower" to "Best of You", with the defining moment being "Purple Rain" in a downpour with an eerie purple glow flooding the stadium. 

(By the way, annihilate the Under on "number of times Pete Townshend will do the windmill" during The Who's performance. It's going off at 5.5 right now. Townshend is 64, and I would be shocked if he broke it out 6+ times.)

The Commercials: There are 8,760 hours in a calendar year. During 8,757 of them commercials are an utter annoyance that make TV very frustrating at times. The other three are reserved for the Super Bowl, when they become must-see TV. It's the only time Matt Light dancing in spandex can ever be considered entertainment. Whether it's Terry Tate or the Budweiser Frogs, there's a lot to love. 

The Game: With all of the other stuff going on it's surprisingly easy to forget the fact that there is a game to be played. But the Super Bowl is the pinnacle of professional sport and there's a better chance you're going to see a great game than a dud. Unless Peyton Manning is playing against Rex Grossman. 

Enjoy the Saints victory everyone.

Cream of the Crop: Gym Personalities

Gyms are a lot like zoos. Creatures of all shapes, sizes and smells performing repetitive, primitive activities in a confined setting. For example:

The Meathead: These guys are a dime-a-dozen at the gym, but that doesn’t mean they don’t stick out. The “meathead stagger” is impossible to miss (think of a shit-faced Frankenstein) and they don’t help themselves when they do it in circles around the bench press. 

Disclaimer: Should you piss one of them off by cutting off their sight line while they stare at themselves in the mirror, just run. Meatheads think as highly of cardio as they do of sleeves. They should give up chase within 30 seconds.

The Old Timer: Back in the day he was a three-sport captain who pulled tail like it was his job. Too bad the day was 50 years ago. Now he's just a creepy old dude walking around half-mast in short shorts. Calling Chris Hansen. 

The Under-Armour-Wearer Who Shouldn’t Be: Outside of the gym, this guy probably makes more money than I do and has a better degree. It's how he pays for the overly expensive clothes to sweat in. But despite his Ivy League education, he still cant wrap his mind around one indisputable notion: Under Armour doesn’t make you more athletic, and it doesn’t hide you man boobs. It accentuates them. 

The “Locker Room Guys”: When it comes to the locker room, there are two types of dudes. The first group is all business. They understand simple concepts like “personal space” and “man code”. They use the locker room for what is necessary (lockers and toilets) and nothing more. 

The second group is all about the more. They see the showers as an open invitation to flaunt their junk while strutting around like Andre Smith at the combine. They take up space around the sinks, picking at their chest mane that hasn't seen the light of day in decades while their towel clings on to their FUPA (the “P” can work for both sexes) for dear life. It’s terrifying and uncalled for. 

The “Who Are You Kidding?” Type: About three months ago I was walking over to the water fountain and was almost run over by a lady pushing three bills. She was wearing a tie-dye shirt and a hat that said “Whiskey Girl” on the front and “I Like it Rough” on the back. She also had a mullet. Reminded me of a redneck Easter egg.

Not suprisingly, that was the last time I ever saw the behemoth. Some people just have better things to do. 

Cream of the Crop: Commercials that need to die.

After spending the weekend watching/losing money on the divisional playoff games it has become pretty clear that the NFL enjoys their lucrative and exclusive TV contracts. Simmons made a good point a month or so ago about how ridiculous the Score-commercial-kickoff-commercial formula the NFL has been relentlessly bukkakeing their loyal fans with. The regular season offers the Red-zone channel as a way to circumvent this consumer exploitation, but the playoffs have brought this issue right to the surface.

When there isn't a commercial break from a score or kickoff, then there is a coach's challenge, an injured player or the quarter ends. Even during the broadcast, Deirdorf and Baby Huey Phil Simms are pumping 60 minutes's latest piece about transgendered triathletes the war in Iraq; not to mention the awkwardly forced references to CBS's stable of shitbag comedies. "Don't miss Accidentally on Purpose followed by Gary Unmarried on CBS Tuesday night...America's number 1 network for sitcoms." Guess I'm busy that night.....

Well I for one can not take it anymore. Some Ad campaigns have grown on me (the monster truck bud light guy, Burger King's full grown man in the baby suit) but the ad campaigns that miss are insufferable and continually nag me throughout the whole game.

3.   The fat Luke Wilson commercials.

To start, Luke Wilson's career is 4 inches away from Dancing With the Stars. You can't watch these commercials without feeling bad for the guy, which I think is an ineffective marketing strategy. Do I want to join a cell phone provider that encourages people to throw their careers in the trashcan? Also, when do you need to surf the web while on the phone? I just had a panic attack thinking of  how confusing that would be to navigate. Meanwhile, the Iphone is sending faxes and microwaving your HotPockets while you are playing solitaire online without interrupting the Itunes albums you are downloading. Give it a rest. My only hope is that they paid Luke Wilson enough to hit the gym and buffer that second chin off of his face. Nice try with the corduroy jacket/button down look, though.

2. Any commercial about E.D.

Football is something that bonds families;  something they enjoy watching together to root for their favorite team, players, etc..... Watching old dudes throw footballs through tires or Neighbor Bob slinging his garden hose around doesn't exactly make me want to talk to my father nonetheless even look at him. Quit selling limp penis meds during football games. Period. You can also include those Heart-Attack medicine commercials, too. The ones in black and white, where the actor goes on about his heart attack story. They drone on for like 5 minutes. Horrible.

1. Flo from Progressive

Aside from the fact that this commercial blatantly lifts a Seinfeld joke, I always find myself dumbfounded when these Progressive commercials come on. How in god's name did this 'Flo' lady get her own Ad Campaign? She is like an irritating Aunt at a Christmas party; just the way she talks and her face mannerisms make me cringe and want to walk the other way. I suppose she gives hope to pale women who wear red lipstick that they could have their own commercial campaign one day, but that is about all she brings to the table. Also, why is every other commercial about car insurance? Is there a trillion-dollar market for car insurance or something? I don't get it, but if I ever need to make a decision about my own car insurance, there is no way I'm giving my money to anybody other than The General. Guy is the man.

I bet Luke Wilson's cell phone coverage doesn't work when he skydives.

Cream of the Crop: Hot Sportscenter Anchors

Hannah Storm

Solid hourglass figure for the 48 year old golden gopher. You heard me, she's almost at the half century mark and she still brings it on a daily basis. The ex-CNN reporter has a phenomenal wardrobe that really accent her strengths, especially for the full body shots coming and going from commercial breaks. The talent and experience warrant her a deserved bronze medal, a la Dara Tores.

Sage Steele

There is something about Sage Steele that piques the 18-34 viewing block; nobody seems to be able to put their finger on it, but its presence is unquestionable. Her 'anchornality' comes across as nurturing, you know she's a real pleaser. In my second life, I swear she leaned over my desk a few times after class and helped teach me Algebra. She takes home the Silver medal only because she wears that god-damn gray pant suit 80% of the time she hosts. Take a page out of Hannah Storm's book and mix it up, please.

Cindy Brunson

Bam! Marinade on that.........mmmmm, is there a better way to find out who won the Golden State game than from this human being? She was so bored with being perfect, that she challenged herself by pulling the inverse Brenda Warner, went with the lesbian short and is STILL killing it. Look at that top rack of pearly whites? Alllll natural and you know it is because she is from the sticks of Washington. Which gives the everyday man hope that they can land their own Cindy Brunson. Her voice, and the way she carries herself are also a plus. Combine this with the fact that she never puts up with Stuart Scott's patronizing, lazy-eyed bullshit and you get our Gold medalist. More Cindy Brunson, less Linda Cohn please.