Color Guys and Gals

Dear Mostly North Americans,

Some of you will remember that a couple of years ago I was the color guy for West Liberty University (in Wild ‘n Wonderful West Virginia) basketball, doing radio/TV broadcasts. So I know a little about what I’m going to share with you. And let me say…I’m disgusted.

A couple of days ago I watched a telecast of my adoped school’s women’s team in action against Alderson-Broaddus College. Reid Amos (known everywhere as “The Fastest Gun in the Mountain State) is the play-by-play man and has some idea of what he’s doing. But he’s currently burdened by a heavy albatross around his neck. I refer to the fact that he has a girl colorman.

Her name is Leigh, she says, and the first thing to tip you off as to how bright her bulb burns is the little matter that she doesn’t even know how to spell that name. Like if someone asked, “Would you rather have a pair of Levis, Jordaches, or Leighs? Duh. But that’s only the start. Let’s take her appearance.

First, she’s wearing these meaningless hoop earrings. When I was doing games viewers saw one pricey diamond stud and one heavy pendant (to this day one of my earlobes is longer than the other) engraved with: Save the Seals. So she says nuthin; I let people understand how classy I am with one ear, and how socially proactive I am with the other.

Then she’s wearing this fancy girlie necklace of some kind. I simply went with a love-bead choker, indicating to the viewer that this broadcaster still had that peace ‘n love hippie spirit goin' for him! Like, totally cool. Seeya at Woodstock!

Her hair was all coifed and perfectly in place, as if she’d just stepped out of a beauty salon, which she no doubt had. Sissy stuff. Her eyes were all wide and alert, probably hoping to send the signal that there was something other than Barbie Dolls behind them, and she looked like she’d just brushed her sparkly white teeth for an hour. Plus, her clothes weren’t even disheveled. Borrrrrrrring.

Contrast that with the look that I offered viewers: long, wild, windswept hair going every which way, conveying that I was a wild ‘n crazy guy…someone you’d like to be trapped in a car with if you were frozen in during a blizzard. I kept my eyes sorta squinty to convey that I was thinkin’ hard and really into what I was sayin’, and I barely opened my mouth when I talked; not so much to cover the slightly yellow caste (not at all unattractive) of my choppers, but because it made me look mysterious…and dangerous. Sorta like a gangster. This is what the public wants in a colorman. Plus a buckskin fringe jacket…little bit rumpled. Cowboy string tie. With a fairly large (though smaller than the state of Rhode Island) turquoise stone to set it off. Gettin’ the picture?

And the things poor Reid’s colorperson talked about: this shooting percentage, and if we can hold down the turnovers to that number, and if the ball gets inside, and yadda yadda yadda. When were we going to hear something colorful? Like, I used to make a habit of calling things out to folks when they were in camera view, and this had a twofold purpose: first, to scorn and humiliate the guests; second, to hopefully incite the home crowd to riot. Aren’t we watchin’ this game to have some fun?

Let’s talk about opportunities missed. Consider. How many times did she make fun of the opposing coach when he was on camera? What would have been wrong with, “Hey, Bozo Boy!…great lookin’ orange shirt yer wearin’—makes you look like a skinny tangerine! But at least it’s long-sleeved and covers up your wimpy little arms!” Might that have worked?

And the other team, Alderson-Broaddus, has a player named Tori Charley. Would it have been a crime to comment: “Wow! Wonder why ole Tori Charley there has two boys’ first names and no girl or last name at all? Maybe her parents were hoping for twin boys.” And then they have a player from New Zealand who transferred in from Siskiyous, Calif., Junior College. How bout hollering when she ran by: “Hey, Kiwi Face…betcha couldn’t get no guys at Siskiyous to KISSKI-YOUS!”

One of the visitor’s players, a sophomore named Amber, is listed as hailing from Junior, West Virginia. Would it have been so dreary to have asked: “Hey, Reid, how can we be sure she’s a sophomore from Junior and not a junior from Sophomore? Or even a senior from Freshman?” Well, I never heard those insightful questions. Thereby leaving me in a state of anticipation…where I remain.

Then there was the fact that every single A-B starter wore a ponytail (while a mere four West Lib players did so). Might it not have helped home fan morale to have heard this colorful call to their bench: “Hey, cottonpickers (their school’s in a pretty rural area)! Those are some really ugly uniforms yer wearin’…looks like they’re made from the gunny sacks that you rode up here in! Of course you wasted most of your budget on rubber bands to hold up those beautiful dos that yer wearin’, didn’t ya?”

And there's the name of the school itself, commemerating Bobby Jim Alderson and Margie Bea Broaddus. Might it have livened things up a bit to have “accidentally” pronounced that “B” name a little bit differently ? After all, it’s common knowledge that she sported a monumental posterior.
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Last nite we took on 5th place Isa Town. We jumped up to a pretty good lead early but refs kept whistling fouls against our ex-NBA player (nearly 13 seasons) Lamond Murray. He got his third personal early in 2nd quarter and had to come out. Our defense was less than stellar. Our players like to brag around town: “Our defense is less than stellar.” We were down two points at halftime. Their American player had probably 20 points at the break and was greatly enjoying himself.

Lamond was able to play all of the second half, however, and was very productive, and we won 96-88. Three of our local players took a turn guarding Jesus Town’s Yank and all did a pretty good job.

Mohsen, usually our first big guy sub off the bench hasn’t been with us for a week due to the fact that he went to big Shia pilgrimage at Karballah, Iraq. In several attacks (presumably by Sunnis) about 50 pilgrims have been killed and couple hundred wounded. So I wouldn’t call his adventure absolutely totally safe.
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Couple of nights ago I went with Rick to the souk (marketplace), as he had to pick up a tuxedo he’d decided he needed to have made. En route, he was drinking, as he always is, Diet Coke. Wanting to be helpful, I mentioned to him that diet soda would rot his guts and kill him…and probably within a couple of days. Maybe hours or minutes.

He responded that he’d recently seen a study that showed that artificial sweeteners do two things to users. First, they seem to attack short-term memory. Second, they seem to attack short-term memory.

He admitted that this was a joke that he thank up hisself.

Yours in Good Clean Competition,
Coach Pat