Australia has been blessed with some world class sports broadcasters. Whether it’s Bruce McAvaney at the Olympics, Bill Collins calling the final furlong of a Cox Plate or Richie Benaud describing a Shane Warne leg break, they’ve been masters of their craft, and they’ve enriched our experience as fans.
In recent years however, the quality of AFL commentary, particularly on Channel Seven, has plummeted. Dennis Cometti hung up the binoculars, and Bruce followed suit a couple of years later. We were left with witless, mind numbing prattle. They were shouting at us, not calling the game. They were hyperventilating when nothing was really happening, and half asleep when someone pulled down the mark of the year. As footy was becoming more congested, they were striving for superlatives, and straying into vaudeville. For a multitude of reasons, ratings were low. Given the quality of repartee, it was no surprise people were tuning out in droves. The sport had never taken itself more seriously. But footy on Seven had become a caricature of itself.
Twitter is hardly a reliable barometer of public opinion, particularly when it comes to politics. Nor is it renowned for its joie de vie. But if there was one thing that could unite footy fans on social media, it was the dire state of Channel Seven’s commentary. For a while, it seemed the only solution lay in the mute button, or in pooling our life savings and paying Anthony Hudson $10m a year to call every game on the fixture.
But Channel Seven did something surprising. They listened. They changed. They watered down the red cordial. And they fostered and promoted new talent. The AFLW was crucial in this regard. New and modulated voices – both men and women – were suddenly showcased to a broader audience. The penny seemed to have dropped. Viewers didn’t want a stand-up routine. They didn’t want a commentary box jammed with former legends.
With little fanfare, they elevated proper broadcasters to the main commentary spots. Callers like Jason Bennett – authoritative, accurate, and economical – were suddenly calling men’s preliminary finals. Though not a play-by-play caller, Daisy Pearce provided more insights into the modern game than half a dozen hall-of-famers. This season, Alistair Nicholson crossed over from the ABC. Again, it was done with minimal fuss. Instead of “Did you see that!”, “Spot on BT”, and “Love the way he goes about it”, he called the play, he got the players’ names right, and he let the game breathe. It was no-nonsense, it was refreshing and it enhanced the viewing experience considerably.
On Sunday, Matt Hill called the St Kilda-Richmond game. I’m hopelessly biased here, but I reckon he’s the best race-caller in the world. He has wonderful timing and cadences. He does his homework. He respects his audience. In a thousand metre sprint down the Flemington straight, with half the field splitting to the grandstand side, he can memorise the silks, names and jockeys of 22 horses, and still not miss a beat. Personally, having him bob up in the footy commentary box was like seeing Daniel Day Lewis treading the boards at the Titanic Theatre Restaurant. It wasn’t long ago that he was calling amateur footy on community radio. But he slotted in seamlessly.
The influx of new talent has raised the standard across the board. Even some serial offenders have lifted their game. James Brayshaw’s call of Lance Franklin’s 1,000th goal was exactly what the moment called for. He let the scene speak for itself. He didn’t try and upstage it. In years gone by, you suspect he and Brian Taylor would have been running on the field themselves. On this night, less was more.
This shift isn’t confined to football. For years, and particularly during home Ashes series, cricket commentary in this country was a ghastly state of affairs. But mercifully, things changed. There was a new host broadcaster. There were more women. There were fewer TV sets thrown off balconies. Finally, we could read a book, lie in a hammock or tend to a sausage while the cricket hummed in the background.
Commentating a football game is a tough gig. Getting the right balance between entertainment and informative commentary, in a sport that doesn’t necessarily translate well to TV, is especially hard. In the hierarchy of footy’s grievances, Channel Seven’s commentary has tended to rank marginally ahead of Ticketek and the MCG ground announcer. On the off-chance Channel Seven bosses read the Guardian, they’re probably echoing Basil Fawlty right now – “Satisfied customer, we should have him stuffed.” But they deserve a shout out. They’ve finally struck the right tone. For the first time in a long time, they’re treating the sport and their viewers with respect.
