It was a brain explosion that got you into this mess, of course. There you were, watching the Olympic qualifiers, when you saw that trick featuring the edge of a concrete ledge and the side of Australian skateboarder Chloe Covell’s deck, and decided it didn’t actually look that hard. Hell, you practically invented a similar thing in the 1980s. One broken wrist, four busted ribs and a detached retina later, you found yourself in front of a sceptical triage nurse, coughing up teeth and trying to pass off the massive blood loss as the result of an accidental collision with the dog.
How hard can it be? Well, VERY. Credit: Getty Images
Having satisfied yourself that 14-year-old Olympic skateboarders actually do know what they’re doing – and that potentially some of this stuff is harder than it looks – you’ve now settled in for a long stint on the sideline. Here, at least, is an Olympic event that a loquacious blowhard like yourself is actually competitive in: the dark arts of providing expert commentary.
And it’s been rich pickings so far. The Paris Games are barely a third of the way through, but the synchronised dive to the bottom of the verbal gymnastics pile has been both sketchy and gnarly, as they say in the skateboarding trade.
Weird appointments, celebrity appearances, awkward interviews … heavens to Bruce McAvaney, when will it end? The problem, which you may or may not recognise when the concussion finally lifts, is that much like the Olympic sports themselves, mastering the art of great commentary is not as simple as it seems.
It’s all very well to know your double saltos from your Jurkowska-Kowalskas, but distilling that information into viewer-sized chunks without coming across as preachy, pedantic, patronising, pushy or pugilistic requires a curated mix of knowledge, emotional intelligence and, occasionally, a self-administered muzzle.
Do it well and you’re Liz Chetkovich, the Australian gymnastics commentary supremo. Do it poorly, and you’re the triathlon champion turned talking head who said the leading male athlete was so far in front he was “like literally on fire!” He wasn’t, thankfully, but he did burn out just before the finish line to snatch silver from the jaws of gold.
Is that a double salto? Where’s Liz Chetkovich when you need her?Credit: AP
As ever, no nation has a monopoly in this arena. On Saturday, British sports commentator Bob Ballard was booted by French broadcaster Eurosport after observing that the gold medal-winning Australian women’s 4x100m team was late leaving the swimming venue.
“You know [what] women are like, hanging around, doing their makeup,” the 64-year-old self-described “massive women’s sports advocate” said.
In the past, viewers’ only recourse for the Ballardosaurus and his Jurassic sensibilities came via the remote control and its mute button, but in the social media age, the condemnation is swift, scathing and anything but silent. Somewhat unusually, celebrity status does not insulate against criticism: in the US, singer-turned-NBC Olympic anchor Kelly Clarkson was pilloried during Friday’s opening ceremony for “reacting to everything like she’d never left her house before”, while a decision to appoint former Australian Test cricket captain Mark Taylor to Nine’s diving commentary team was decried by TV personality Tim Bailey as “disrespectful to the athletes”. AFL star Matthew Pavlich, meanwhile, came in for criticism on X for his coverage of the equestrian events.
At times, a lack of specialist knowledge could be seen as a blessing, especially when crusaders for some of the lesser-known sports come over all evangelical and suck up precious airtime doing little more than reciting the LinkedIn profiles of their favourite athletes. Others become overwhelmed by a toxic mix of sporting glory and industrial amounts of green and gold zinc, and spend the sideline “interviews” hollering “Hoooooooowwww gooooooood” into the microphone, while the newly minted Olympic champions wait humbly for their chance to introduce themselves to the public before name-checking their steadfast financial backers, the fundraising committee members of the Marvel Loch Shotput Fanciers Association. Or similar.
And woe betide the commentary rookie who cops the excruciating Harry Garside post-bout boxing elimination interview. Focus too much on the future and you’re as creepy as a Teflon-coated platitude; ask too many questions and you’re an unfeeling monster; leave the guy to sort out his feelings in private and you’re (technically) not doing your job.
All of which brings us back to you, our couch-dwelling Chloe Covell wannabe and skateboarding hero of yesteryear. How’s the knee reconstruction coming along? No doubt the period of quiet introspection has allowed you to form some key insights about Australia’s medal chances across a range of upcoming Olympic events. You could tell these commentary plonkers a thing or two about a thing or two, right? If only someone would pass you the damn microphone.
Michelle Cazzulino is a Sydney writer.
