An Atrocity of Atrocities

Like everyone, I've got opinions. Now and again, I'll voice them. Sometimes I do so quietly, sometimes I scream. Today, I've been up for a mere hour, and (figuratively) my vocal chords are strained. Like my House of Georges colleagues, I grew up watching NFL football. Every Sunday, and sometimes late-season Saturdays, I'd be in the TV room either at mom's or dad's watching the Chiefs, and whoever was on before or after them on the local network feed. And as every football fan knows, it's the luck of the draw regarding which television commentating crew is asigned to the weekend's games. To a lesser degree, this applies to Monday Night Football as well. For years, it was the Gifford-Cosell team, and in the last decade and-a-half, it featured a myriad of good and bad. This good and bad of MNF mirrors the crews assembled for the Sunday games. Some guys are really, really good. Some are absolutely fucking awful.

Here on the House, I've voiced my support for Royals 30-year-plus radio voice Denny Matthews, and I did so loudly when he won MLB's Ford C. Frick award for broadcast. In three weeks, the NFL will induct this year's HOF crew over there in Canton, and the awards ceremony will include the Frick counterpart, the Pete Rozelle Radio-Television Award.

I'm here to tell you that broadcast journalism, the NFL shield, and the good Rozelle name will all be smattered on August 1 when that award is handed over to one Dan Dierdorf. I've heard some awful announcing in my days, but no one, I mean, no body is as bumbling, stumbling and retarded-sounding when calling a football game as Dan Dierdorf.

Like I said, this is my opinion, and I'm sure folks will disagree with it, but they will be wrong. Give me the slobbering repetitiveness of John Madden, an intoxicated Pat Summerall. Hell, give me the odd-but-entertaining Dennis Miller, give me Theismann (Editor's Note: Actually, please don't.) Hell, put Eric freaking Dickerson in the booth and let him play with the knobs like a Down's kid in a space shuttle. Just keep the 'Dorf away from my auditory canals. I'm begging you: Make it stop. And stop this abortion of recognition from happening.