When it was announced in December that
Tim McCarver, seemingly fresh off of the conclusion of a three-and-a-half
decade career as a baseball broadcaster, would be working as a color
commentator for thirty St. Louis Cardinals games in 2014 on Fox Sports Midwest,
I was less than ecstatic. The first World Series I can actively remember
watching was in 1998: With the exception of 1999, during which commentary was
provided by legendary broadcaster
Joe Morgan, Tim McCarver has been a constant presence throughout the most
important baseball games of every season of my baseball fandom. And when I
heard that Tim McCarver would now be broadcasting games in a capacity which
would actually increase my own exposure to him, I felt a bit like Michael
Corleone in The Godfather Part III.
Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in.
But in a shocking turn of events, Tim
McCarver has grown on me.
Now, let me be very clear about
something: I am not claiming that Tim McCarver is a great announcer. But after
hearing him broadcast on FSM, rather than during significant nationally
televised games, it seems as though McCarver has, at 72, found his niche.
A big part of my evolution on McCarver
is the context of the games which he is calling. Which is to say he is not
being tasked with calling World Series games, during which malapropisms about alleged doubles that are actually
triples are aggravating. And fans who criticized McCarver’s verbal flubs in
this case were justified—it’s well within reason to expect a higher level of
analysis (or in this case, simply accurate analysis) if you are watching a
vitally important playoff game. But in the earlier stages of the season, it has
been less of a problem. Not that I particularly enjoy the mistakes, but I can
live with them, because it means that McCarver’s strengths are able to shine.
Even his most ardent critics can concede
one thing about Tim McCarver—he is an overwhelmingly likable person. Even if you
detest his broadcasting, it is not as though you have some kind of personal
vendetta against him. It takes a man very comfortable in his own skin, a man
with some sort of perspective on life, to release an
album of standards while in the midst of a high-profile career broadcasting
baseball. And as much as we all may love the baseball season, you would be
hard-pressed to find somebody who did not find it to be at least somewhat
interminable.
You cannot, as a fan, treat every game
with the passion of a playoff game. You wouldn’t be able to survive. In the
NFL, you can pull it off—the worst team in league history lost 16 games. The
best team in MLB history under the current schedule format lost 46 games. A
little bit of serenity isn’t just preferable—it’s necessary. And Tim McCarver
offers a fresh set of anecdotes to sprinkle throughout these dog days of
summer. It is an inherent thing working against Rick Horton and Al Hrabosky:
All of their best stories have already been told on FSM airwaves over the years.
And rather than simply citing an accomplished Major League Baseball career as
an open-and-shut case for why you should listen to what he has to say, McCarver
is self-deprecating and authentic. He is of the Bob Uecker School of Ex-Jock Broadcasting—which
is ironic, since he was actually an accomplished player who put up nearly six
wins above replacement for a World Series champion.
The era of uniformly beloved broadcasters
is nearly over. There’s Vin Scully and that’s it. Jack Buck, Ernie Harwell, Curt
Gowdy, Harry Caray, and Harry Kalas are all gone. That Tim McCarver is not an
immortally great announcer is an excessive grievance. All we can ask is that,
for three hours during a long baseball season, a broadcaster allows us to enjoy
ourselves. And so far, FSM’s rookie broadcaster has done just fine.
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