Posted by: cousinbrandon | October 21, 2009

The Angry Alphabet: Things I Hate, From A to Z (S)

Sideline Reporters

[Note: You non-sports fans may want to brace yourselves. This could get ugly.]

I watch a lot of sports. In fact, I’m pretty much a fan of all things sports-related, save “non-sports” like Poker, Auto Racing, College Football… you know, things I’d rather poke my own eyes out than watch. (And by the way, BCS System, you can sure as shit bet you’re getting the royal treatment on my return trip to “B”.) And yet as much as I love Sunday football, playoff baseball, and the NCAA tournament, I absolutely, positively do not need to do so with the assistance of sideline reporters.

Look, whether it’s the Super Bowl or pre-season hockey, it seems every sporting event now comes with at least 30 minutes of pre-game analysis and a post-game wrap-up. This, of course, excludes all of the in-game commentary and play-by-play. With that being said, why in the hell is it necessary to go to the sidelines after the first quarter, as the coaches run into the locker room at halftime, as the coaches come out of the tunnel, before the fourth quarter, in the middle of every quarter, before kick-off, after kick-off, at the end of the game, etc.

In other words, shut the fuck up, Sideline Reporter!

What do you actually add that’s of any interest? You flap your gums about one of the following subjects:

  • An injury update;
  • A player’s “wacky” backstory;
  • An adjustment at halftime;
  • A weather update; or
  • A poor start by a great player who’s “bound to get hot.”

Please, why do we need yet another voice destroying the beauty that is the actual sport? What’s more, if you’re not good enough to make it into the studio back in New York City or on the ESPN “campus,” why would you possibly think I give a rat’s ass about what you have to add to the game at hand? Next time you’re working a 12-degree baseball game in Denver, Colorado with an 8:07 start time, ask yourself if maybe it isn’t time to find a job with a space heater at minimum. What’s more, look at these cretins:

Wow! Chris Myers just made a joke about his hair. Go figure.

Nice tie, Craig.

Jesus, Man, how do you even have a job? Or a wife?


Tafoya should change her name to “Forearm Shiver.”

Jim Gray: Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer.

The only good thing Suzy Kolber ever did, no thanks to her.

“I can fit a hoagie AND Joe Buck’s penis in my mouth at the same time.”

Fine, maybe there’s one exception to the rule…

Okay, two.

Bottom line is this, Sideline Reporters: you’re obsolete. We don’t need you. We don’t want you. Your “insight” is useless; your comments are stupid. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’ve got these organs called eyes, not to mention a set of ears. Between these nifty gadgets I’m capable of not only watching what’s happening but listening to the crack of the bat, the squeak of sneakers on hardwood, the whack of helmet-on-helmet. Your worthless descriptions of said events, not to mention your fantastic reporting on Athlete X growing up in a single-parent household, doesn’t mean shit to me. Keep it in your pants, please, along with your microphones, headsets, and every set of male hands beating off to Erin Andrews.

Well, that’s it for this edition. Until Letter “T” drops bombs on your ass, have at it, you vultures!



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