10. OH MY GODCH
I get the feeling that if I really scoured through all the 75-view videos on YouTube, I could find enough awesome high school announcing moments to fill out the rest of this list. This one will have to do.
The "PYYYROOOOOTECHAHHHHHHHKS" bit at the end shoulder certainly not be ignored, but I'm more interested in the "OH MY GODCH." Suppose you haven't really read much of the Bible, and someone sits you down and asks you to write down a story from the middle of the Old Testament to the best of your memory. "Godch" would totally be the name of one of your Biblical figures.
1 And then Godch went to the town of Bible and the LORD said, "Behold!" So Godch beholded some stuff and it was good. 2 And then Godch feasted on bread. He didn't even cut it up or put any food on it, he just ate it all by itself! 3 Man that is some stone cold Bible shiz right there. Bible dudes probably didn't 4 have knives! Just an ax! Shoot!
9. Vin Scully gets two spots on this list, deal with it
Earlier this year, I wrote something in which I rattled off a short list of sportscasters I really liked. I mentioned, among other names, Vin Scully and NFL Network's Rich Eisen.
The next day, Eisen himself tweeted me out of nowhere.
@jon_bois thanks for writing what u did about me. I don't deserve to be mentioned in same sentence as vin.
Needless to say, I thought this was pretty awesome. I started to imagine a system employed by sportscasters across America, by which they would set up Google Alerts for their name plus "Vin Scully," so that they could promptly respond with, "whoa, whoa, hold on, I am not in the same league as Vin Scully."
No one is. Vin Scully really does deserve every bit of praise he receives. He does with one microphone what other broadcasts can't do with three. At age 84, he makes fewer mistakes than any other announcer I've ever heard. He drops interesting trivia, he says funny things, and sometimes it seems like he knows more about the Dodgers than they know about themselves.
I don't like the Dodgers, but I watch the Dodgers more than almost every other team because I want to listen to Vin. He's going to return to broadcast at least one more season of baseball because someone gave him cookies. He is the best sportscaster of all time, period, full stop, and he is also one of my favorite people in the world.
8. David Locke lives in a van down by the river
Every sportscaster has this switch, you see. In some sportscasters, this switch's spring popped out years ago, and it flips when someone accidentally bumps it. Others are rusted shut and require a truck and a winch to pull them loose. This is the switch that toggles "sportscaster" and "person." In March, this switch flipped in Utah Jazz radio play-by-play man David Locke.
(Original story here)
I don't really need the video. I don't want it. This will do just fine.
7. The four most uncomfortable minutes in television history
I have to confess that I'm cheating a little here, because this isn't technically sportscasting, but it couldn't not be mentioned. Here is retired defensive tackle and current CBS analyst Kris Jenkins starring in an unbelievably ill-conceived Halloween skit.
The one benefit of reaching only for the lowest-hanging comedic fruit is that it won't completely crash and burn, and yet here it happens anyway. Actually, you know what? Don't watch it. Too awkward. NEXT
6. Lee Corso drops an F-bomb on College GameDay
Harry was an inventor, a man of ideas.
It was Saturday morning, and Harry sat at his kitchen table, his loose fist resting on his spoon, looking down at his bowl of cereal. A bowl with two reservoirs, he thought, that's what you need. The cereal in one, and the milk in the other. When you're ready for a spoonful, you simply spoon a bit into the cereal, then the milk. I would never again eat a soggy bowl of cereal.
But he knew it had already been invented. He had seen it in a catalog. He rapped his knuckles against the table a time or two and spoke aloud to himself: "There are too many people in the world, too many intellects creating and sharing ideas. We humans, we will multiply endlessly. But ideas? Original ideas? Those are of finite supply, a supply that not only is exhaustible, but that has perhaps already been exhausted.
"I am a crow in a flock of billions, scouring a continent for a crust of bread. I can no longer invent. I have no recourse but to emulate, to labor. To never truly create. And in so doing, I shall be a ghost of what Man used to be."
And then he looked up at the television, and it happened:
There is no time. Go now. Now! There is no time. In that moment, Harry sat bolt upright in his chair and took in the shortest of gasps, and by the next moment, he was already off his feet, leaping over the kitchen table he had knocked on its end. He tucked his head inside his elbows and left his feet again, and then he was on his lawn, surrounded by mess of glass and broken window pane and other nonsense.
He pushed himself up and sprinted. Over a neighbor's fence. Through yards, up and down hills, across a few streets. It's Saturday morning. Are they open Saturdays? He grew worried, but still he ran as the crow flew, without regard for Man's asphalt grids and mazes.
It was a modest strip mall at best; the brick pillars of the 2000s and the stucco of the 1990s certainly didn't appear to agree with one another. A woman pushed open the glass door, frosted with "PATENT ATTORNEY" and "SAT 9AM-1PM," and she was immediately greeted with a fright as a barefoot, bathrobed Harry vaulted through the open door and into the office. The secretary had little time to speak before Harry collapsed on the service counter and stated his business through heaving breaths:
"I wish to ... register a patent ... on a joke. Lee Corso. More like ... Lee Curse-o. Because ... he cursed."
Harry fell backwards on the carpet and stared at the ceiling. It was an idea. It was his idea. He had invented, and he was once again what Man was meant to be.
"Sir, we have already registered approximately 17,000 identical patent applications." Harry wept.