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YOU SPOILED, SPOILED CRETINS

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The cottage industry of the internet is complaint, particularly about announcers and the shitty job they do. Consider, though, what spoiled little whining Fauntleroys we all are compared to the brave couch warriors of years past: one game a week, shot on no more that six or seven cameras, and narrated by Howard Cosell and the late, great coach Bud Wilkinson.

(Nostalgia's a confounder here: you might love Cosell now, but we guarantee the internet would have turned flamethrowers shooting napalm laced with cyanide against Cosell. He broadcast the biggest games for the biggest sports presence and took controversial stances, two factors guaranteeing excoriation by blog-types. His loyalty to Ali would especially appall bloggers, who on the pure sports side would have accused him of ball-washing, and the "heh!" conservative blogger crowd, who would ask him why, oh why he did he hate America? )

Just watch the Notre Dame/Alabama game for proof that football coverage has evolved from knuckle dragging analog mono to glorious HD digital quality just this far from virtual reality. The thing that has changed the least is the role of the announcer. They still do what they've always done, which is alternately enhancing the game with observation and blathering over it with inane patter.