MIAMI - It sounds like a dream to people who hate bad football announcers, who think they just get in the way of enjoying a game. NBC tried an experiment for its final game of the year in 1980 by broadcasting the game with no announcers. There was no play-by-play, no color commentary, no sideline reporters. The only sounds were the sounds of the game.
While it was passed off as an experiment, one designed to challenge the long-standing belief of what made a successful broadcast, in reality, it was a ratings grab. Seeing a drab matchup between the 3-12 Jets and the 8-7 Dolphins, with both teams already eliminated from the playoffs, ABC executives came up with the announcer-less idea simply as a gimmick to draw a larger audience than would otherwise have been expected to tune in. In pushing the novelty of the game, they were hoping to overcome the perception that it was simply a boring, meaningless game.
The results were ... uh... underwhelming. While it seemed like announcers would get in the way, viewers and producers quickly realized how awkward the game was without the context provided by announcers. The game producers did what they could - adding graphics whenever possible, showing pre-recorded interviews, adding microphones throughout the stadium. But things still seemed missing. The interviews seemed forced and out of place when thrown up unexpectedly during the game. The NFL wouldn't relax some of its player-access restrictions, so the players weren't miked, making the quarterback signals inaudible throughout the game. Viewers complained about a low buzzing sound during parts of the game. What made it worse was that NBC had the technology to use the now-standard score "bug," showing the score and time remaining constantly, but nobody had thought to do it for this game.
While the overwhelming reaction to the game, in retrospect, seems to be negative, there is one surprising aspect: the switchboard in NBC recorded the viewer feed back as 831 pro, 518 con. So some people liked it. But people didn't like it enough to make it common. Every game since has had announcers.
But the announcerless game wasn't completely for naught. Because of the number of graphics necessary for producers to tell the story of that game, graphics started becoming more and more common in football broadcasts. NBC announcer Dick Enberg said that while he was relieved the experiment didn't work, he did learn that it was appropriate to let silence carry the broadcast in certain situations. So there was some good that came from it.
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Monday, December 20, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
November 18, 1985: Like a car crash
WASHINGTON - It's easy to find if you want to. A simple search on YouTube, or really any online video site. It'll be there. Go ahead and watch if you want to. A lot of people have, most of them multiple times. Most who watch it never forget it. A lot of them never want to see it again.
The New York Giants weren't fooled by the flea-flicker in that game. Why would they be? Boasting one of the best defenses of the era, one that would almost single-handedly lead them to the championship the next season, the Giants weren't easily fooled by any play. But a flea-flicker against a heavily blitzing team? In retrospect, it seems ludricious.
Of course, hindsight is 20-20. It's easy to see Lawrence Taylor jumping up and down screaming at the Redskins' bench while Joe Theismann lay injured and say "maybe the Redskins shouldn't have run that play." The ill-advised flea-flicker that Taylor blew up in the backfield ended up being the final play of Joe Theismann's career.
At first, the Redskins thought Taylor was taunting them. Why else would he jump up after a sack and scream at the bench? But then the truth began to sink in. Taylor was calling for help. Theismann wasn't getting up. One look, and everybody could see why.
At first, the television cameras didn't show what happened. It looked like Theismann got the pitch back from the running back, got hit by Taylor, and fell awkwardly. Then the Monday Night Football crews showed the reverse angle. Oh, the reverse angle. The one that showed Taylor's body start to swing around as he brought Theismann to the ground, the one that showed the entire weight of Taylor's body falling on Theismann's lower leg, the one that showed the compound fracture. The replay that the producers showed over and over and over again.
It was the repitition that made it the worst. Seeing an injury like that was bad enough, but to keep showing it was just sickening. Sure, ABC had to kill time while the trainers tended to Theismann, but couldn't they have cut to commercial or something? Did they have to keep showing it?
Theismann was an NFL MVP, a Super Bowl champion, and holds most Redskins career passing records. Taylor was an NFL MVP, a two-time Super Bowl champion, and is considered one of the best linebackers of all time. Both, however, are most remembered for the play where Taylor met Theismann in the backfield, and Theismann's lower leg snapped.
Taylor has said that he has never seen the video of that play, and that he never will. It's hard to blame him. Nobody who saw Joe Theismann's career end on Monday Night Football will ever forget it.
The New York Giants weren't fooled by the flea-flicker in that game. Why would they be? Boasting one of the best defenses of the era, one that would almost single-handedly lead them to the championship the next season, the Giants weren't easily fooled by any play. But a flea-flicker against a heavily blitzing team? In retrospect, it seems ludricious.
Of course, hindsight is 20-20. It's easy to see Lawrence Taylor jumping up and down screaming at the Redskins' bench while Joe Theismann lay injured and say "maybe the Redskins shouldn't have run that play." The ill-advised flea-flicker that Taylor blew up in the backfield ended up being the final play of Joe Theismann's career.
At first, the Redskins thought Taylor was taunting them. Why else would he jump up after a sack and scream at the bench? But then the truth began to sink in. Taylor was calling for help. Theismann wasn't getting up. One look, and everybody could see why.
At first, the television cameras didn't show what happened. It looked like Theismann got the pitch back from the running back, got hit by Taylor, and fell awkwardly. Then the Monday Night Football crews showed the reverse angle. Oh, the reverse angle. The one that showed Taylor's body start to swing around as he brought Theismann to the ground, the one that showed the entire weight of Taylor's body falling on Theismann's lower leg, the one that showed the compound fracture. The replay that the producers showed over and over and over again.
It was the repitition that made it the worst. Seeing an injury like that was bad enough, but to keep showing it was just sickening. Sure, ABC had to kill time while the trainers tended to Theismann, but couldn't they have cut to commercial or something? Did they have to keep showing it?
Theismann was an NFL MVP, a Super Bowl champion, and holds most Redskins career passing records. Taylor was an NFL MVP, a two-time Super Bowl champion, and is considered one of the best linebackers of all time. Both, however, are most remembered for the play where Taylor met Theismann in the backfield, and Theismann's lower leg snapped.
Taylor has said that he has never seen the video of that play, and that he never will. It's hard to blame him. Nobody who saw Joe Theismann's career end on Monday Night Football will ever forget it.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
November 17, 1968: The Heidi Bowl
OAKLAND, Calif. - There was 1:05 left on the clock when everything went dark. The 7-2 New York Jets had just kicked a field goal to take a 32-29 lead over the 7-2 Oakland Raiders. After the ensuing kickoff, at precisely 7:00 Eastern time, the NBC affiliates across the country cut to commercial. When the broadcast feed returned, football fans were watching not the final minute of the football game, but the opening credits of the made-for-TV movie Heidi.
It seemed like a weird time to cut away from the game, but NBC was contractually obligated to show Heidi starting at 7:00, regardless of whether the game was over. It had rarely been a problem in the past, as most games at that time were over within the three-hour window they were given. If they weren't, it was fairly common practice to flip away from games that weren't quite finished - that afternoon, the end of the San Diego-Buffalo game had been cut off so NBC could show the entire Jets-Raiders game.
This time, though, NBC studio heads changed their minds. Seeing how exciting the Jets-Raiders game was, they felt like it would be all right to delay the start of Heidi by a few minutes. The problem was they couldn't get through. So many people were calling in to local NBC studios asking if the whole game would be shown (or, in some cases, asking if Heidi would be shown on time), that the NBC executives couldn't get through to communicate their decision to keep showing the game. So the switch was made, and at 7:00 everybody in the country east of Denver, instead of seeing the Raiders starting their last-ditch drive, instead saw Heidi running through a field of flowers.
It was the old days of television, where the signal was sent over telephone wires rather than by satellite, so switching back would be a time-consuming and labor-intensive option. Plus, the NBC heads still couldn't get through to say they wanted the game switched back on, anyway. Communication was so poor that the people in NBC's studio didn't even know what was happening in the game.
What was happening was one of the most exciting endings in regular-season history. After taking the kickoff to the 23 yard line, Daryle Lamonica completed a 20-yard pass to Charlie Smith on the first play, with 15 more yards being tacked on because of a facemask penalty. On the next play, Lamonica found Smith again, this time for a 43-yard touchdown. The Raiders had gone 77 yards in two plays to take the lead, and nobody east of the Rockies saw it.
But things weren't done. On the ensuing kickoff, the Jets had trouble recovering the bouncing ball. Oakland's Preston Ridlehuber picked up the fumbled kickoff at the 2 and stepped into the end zone for another Raider touchdown. The Raiders had scored twice in 32 seconds, all while most of the country was watching a touching movie about a young girl being raised by her grandfather in the Swiss Alps.
The oblivious viewers were no doubt a little surprised to see a crawl start across the bottom of the screen at 8:40. Just as Heidi's cousin Clara was summoning the courage to walk after falling from her wheelchair, the score showed up on the bottom of the screen: Oakland 43, New York 32.
Outraged viewers flooded NBC studios with calls, calling with such frequency that the switchboard in New York blew 25 fuses. NBC scrambled to try to fix things, going so far as issuing a public apology at the end of the movie and showing the final 1:05 of the game in its entirety on the evening news. That wasn't enough to placate fans.
The Heidi Bowl, as the game came to be known, changed the way football was shown on television. Soon afterwards, a rule was put in place that the end of a game cannot be preempted in the home market of the two teams. The reaction also showed NBC just how popular televised football had become in America, and the AFL in particular. Soon, NBC was able to nearly double its ad rates for AFL games. This game, along with those same Jets beating Baltimore in that year's Super Bowl, helped legitimize the AFL to the point it was able to merge with the NFL for the 1970 season.
It seemed like a weird time to cut away from the game, but NBC was contractually obligated to show Heidi starting at 7:00, regardless of whether the game was over. It had rarely been a problem in the past, as most games at that time were over within the three-hour window they were given. If they weren't, it was fairly common practice to flip away from games that weren't quite finished - that afternoon, the end of the San Diego-Buffalo game had been cut off so NBC could show the entire Jets-Raiders game.
This time, though, NBC studio heads changed their minds. Seeing how exciting the Jets-Raiders game was, they felt like it would be all right to delay the start of Heidi by a few minutes. The problem was they couldn't get through. So many people were calling in to local NBC studios asking if the whole game would be shown (or, in some cases, asking if Heidi would be shown on time), that the NBC executives couldn't get through to communicate their decision to keep showing the game. So the switch was made, and at 7:00 everybody in the country east of Denver, instead of seeing the Raiders starting their last-ditch drive, instead saw Heidi running through a field of flowers.
It was the old days of television, where the signal was sent over telephone wires rather than by satellite, so switching back would be a time-consuming and labor-intensive option. Plus, the NBC heads still couldn't get through to say they wanted the game switched back on, anyway. Communication was so poor that the people in NBC's studio didn't even know what was happening in the game.
What was happening was one of the most exciting endings in regular-season history. After taking the kickoff to the 23 yard line, Daryle Lamonica completed a 20-yard pass to Charlie Smith on the first play, with 15 more yards being tacked on because of a facemask penalty. On the next play, Lamonica found Smith again, this time for a 43-yard touchdown. The Raiders had gone 77 yards in two plays to take the lead, and nobody east of the Rockies saw it.
But things weren't done. On the ensuing kickoff, the Jets had trouble recovering the bouncing ball. Oakland's Preston Ridlehuber picked up the fumbled kickoff at the 2 and stepped into the end zone for another Raider touchdown. The Raiders had scored twice in 32 seconds, all while most of the country was watching a touching movie about a young girl being raised by her grandfather in the Swiss Alps.
The oblivious viewers were no doubt a little surprised to see a crawl start across the bottom of the screen at 8:40. Just as Heidi's cousin Clara was summoning the courage to walk after falling from her wheelchair, the score showed up on the bottom of the screen: Oakland 43, New York 32.
Outraged viewers flooded NBC studios with calls, calling with such frequency that the switchboard in New York blew 25 fuses. NBC scrambled to try to fix things, going so far as issuing a public apology at the end of the movie and showing the final 1:05 of the game in its entirety on the evening news. That wasn't enough to placate fans.
The Heidi Bowl, as the game came to be known, changed the way football was shown on television. Soon afterwards, a rule was put in place that the end of a game cannot be preempted in the home market of the two teams. The reaction also showed NBC just how popular televised football had become in America, and the AFL in particular. Soon, NBC was able to nearly double its ad rates for AFL games. This game, along with those same Jets beating Baltimore in that year's Super Bowl, helped legitimize the AFL to the point it was able to merge with the NFL for the 1970 season.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
August 26, 1939: The start of something good
BROOKLYN - Red Barber became known as one of the legendary voices of summer, the long-time radio announcers who became synonymous with their teams. In 27 years covering baseball in New York City, first with the Dodgers and then with the Yankees, he became as famous as the teams themselves, his voice as much a part of the World Series each fall as the Yankees were. Over his long career, it started to seem like he had been made to call baseball, that he was calling baseball from the very beginning.
That's not too far from the truth.
The first Major League game Barber ever attended was on opening day in 1934 in Crosley Field in Cincinnati. The Reds were playing the Cubs, and Barber, sitting in the stands behind home plate, was the new play-by-play voice of the Reds. He stayed there through the 1938 season, when he moved to Brooklyn.
On August 26, 1939, a few months after televising the first college baseball game, experimental New York NBC station W2XBS broadcast a doubleheader between the Dodgers and the Cincinnati Reds. Behind the mic that day was Barber, in his first year as the Dodgers radio announcer. He called the landmark doubleheader without the benefit of a monitor. There were only two cameras capturing the action, and Barber had to describe the action shown based on which camera's light was on and which direction it was pointed. It was purely guesswork.
The broadcast was a success. Though baseball owners were very reluctant to let televised baseball grow too much for fear that it would dissuade fans from buying tickets to the game, they soon realized there was no better way to spread interest in their team than through telelvision.
It took eight year, however, for the World Series to be televised, as the first championship series to hit the airwaves was the 1947 matchup between the Yankees and the Dodgers. Fittingly, Barber was behind the mic for that series, just as he would be for most of the series through the 40s and 50s.
Not from the 1939 game, but these are two of Barber's most famous calls. First, Cookie Lavagetto's hit with two outs in the bottom of the 9th is the Dodgers' only hit of game 4 - but it won the game:
http://contursi.freeyellow.com/baseballtour/sounds/sounds/redbarber.mp3
Second, Al Gionfriddo makes a sensational running catch of a Joe DiMaggio line drive in game 6:
http://contursi.freeyellow.com/baseballtour/sounds/sounds/redbarber2.mp3
That's not too far from the truth.
The first Major League game Barber ever attended was on opening day in 1934 in Crosley Field in Cincinnati. The Reds were playing the Cubs, and Barber, sitting in the stands behind home plate, was the new play-by-play voice of the Reds. He stayed there through the 1938 season, when he moved to Brooklyn.
On August 26, 1939, a few months after televising the first college baseball game, experimental New York NBC station W2XBS broadcast a doubleheader between the Dodgers and the Cincinnati Reds. Behind the mic that day was Barber, in his first year as the Dodgers radio announcer. He called the landmark doubleheader without the benefit of a monitor. There were only two cameras capturing the action, and Barber had to describe the action shown based on which camera's light was on and which direction it was pointed. It was purely guesswork.
The broadcast was a success. Though baseball owners were very reluctant to let televised baseball grow too much for fear that it would dissuade fans from buying tickets to the game, they soon realized there was no better way to spread interest in their team than through telelvision.
It took eight year, however, for the World Series to be televised, as the first championship series to hit the airwaves was the 1947 matchup between the Yankees and the Dodgers. Fittingly, Barber was behind the mic for that series, just as he would be for most of the series through the 40s and 50s.
Not from the 1939 game, but these are two of Barber's most famous calls. First, Cookie Lavagetto's hit with two outs in the bottom of the 9th is the Dodgers' only hit of game 4 - but it won the game:
http://contursi.freeyellow.com/baseballtour/sounds/sounds/redbarber.mp3
Second, Al Gionfriddo makes a sensational running catch of a Joe DiMaggio line drive in game 6:
http://contursi.freeyellow.com/baseballtour/sounds/sounds/redbarber2.mp3
Monday, May 17, 2010
May 17, 1939: On air
NEW YORK - Sports and television seem like a natural pairing. Most of the memorable sports moments I've been writing about live on forever because people remember watching them as they happened, and every year, the most-watched television program in America is the Super Bowl, the one day where nearly everybody can agree on what to watch.
Televised sports in America started on May 17, 1939, when experimental station W2XBS in New York televised a baseball game between Columbia University and Princeton University. Two cameras were placed in to Baker Field in New York - one on the third-base side and one high above home plate - while Bill Stern called the play-by-play for Princeton's 2-1 victory.
The first game couldn't have been too enjoyable an experience for people watching. The low-tech cameras couldn't pick up the ball as it traveled from the pitcher to the batter or even after it was hit, and the swinging of a bat looked like a paper fan. The people who did get to see the broadcast - there were only about 400 televisions in New York at that time - had to peer through a four- or five-inch screen to see the game. Not exactly conducive to big parties.
The Columbia-Princeton game was a test run of sorts for the channel that would become WNBC, as televisions were a big promotion at that year's World's Fair. That summer, a double-header between Brooklyn and Cincinnati was shown as part of the World's Fair exhibit, representing the debut of professional sports on television.
HONORABLE MENTION
May 17, 1875: LOUISVILLE, Ky. - In front of 10,000 spectators, 15 3-year-old thoroughbred horses raced a mile and a half on this Saturday afternoon, with Oliver Lewis jockeying Aristides to victory in the inaugural Kentucky Derby. The distance has changed, the racetrack has grown, and the race has grown in stature, but the Derby has been run every year since then, one of the longest-running traditions in American sports.
Televised sports in America started on May 17, 1939, when experimental station W2XBS in New York televised a baseball game between Columbia University and Princeton University. Two cameras were placed in to Baker Field in New York - one on the third-base side and one high above home plate - while Bill Stern called the play-by-play for Princeton's 2-1 victory.
The first game couldn't have been too enjoyable an experience for people watching. The low-tech cameras couldn't pick up the ball as it traveled from the pitcher to the batter or even after it was hit, and the swinging of a bat looked like a paper fan. The people who did get to see the broadcast - there were only about 400 televisions in New York at that time - had to peer through a four- or five-inch screen to see the game. Not exactly conducive to big parties.
The Columbia-Princeton game was a test run of sorts for the channel that would become WNBC, as televisions were a big promotion at that year's World's Fair. That summer, a double-header between Brooklyn and Cincinnati was shown as part of the World's Fair exhibit, representing the debut of professional sports on television.
HONORABLE MENTION
May 17, 1875: LOUISVILLE, Ky. - In front of 10,000 spectators, 15 3-year-old thoroughbred horses raced a mile and a half on this Saturday afternoon, with Oliver Lewis jockeying Aristides to victory in the inaugural Kentucky Derby. The distance has changed, the racetrack has grown, and the race has grown in stature, but the Derby has been run every year since then, one of the longest-running traditions in American sports.
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