Coach's Corner

I've spent so much time lately listening to strangers on the television screen that they've become part of my extended family: a passel of friendly, helpful, nicely dressed and, occasionally, articulate aunts and uncles.

My new family -- sportscasters from ESPN, TNT, The Deuce, and NBC. I can't wait until Thanksgiving, so I can go to their houses for dinner. Like real-life aunts and uncles, they have their quirks and eccentricities. Some talk too much, some mumble, some tell you more about their home siding business than you'd ever want to know, some never give you any money. Join me at the kid's table, and we'll talk about the relatives.

The cable channels usually do a better job than the networks. Bob Neal, TNT's play-by-play man, is an excellent example. Uncle Bob is good. His buttery voice, never intrusive, never overbearing, fills the TNT airwaves with cogent, to-the-point information. Check in on a Neal broadcast at any time and you'll find out, quickly, the score and what's been going on in the last couple of minutes. It's always something important, never gorpy gossip about who he went to breakfast with. Is Pippin on fire, scoring eight of the Bulls' last 10 points? Is Mutombo hanging his head? Uncle Bob lets you know. He always slips me a fiver, but implores me not to tell my mother. Chuck Daly, Bob's sidekick, is the bachelor friend Uncle Bob brings along. He's not as good as the two guys he replaced, Danny Ainge and the best TV analyst ever, Doug Collins. Chuck doesn't get into complex analysis, but he doesn't piss me off either. He and Neal have a great chemistry. They never step on each other. Their voices blend like an icy banana daiquiri. I'm not a Hubie Brown fan. Unkie Hubie, TNT's other color man, gets so deep into basketball minutiae, discussing zone rotations, double and triple back picks and inside-out options off of the high screen and roll, I'm often totally lost. He tells me way more than I want to know and, making matters worse, repeats himself incessantly. He never has a critical word for a coach, though he'll rip a player in a second. Hubie's not the uncle you want to get trapped in the den with. Doc Rivers contributes little to the game. He was much better doing the half-time show.

For introductions, graphics, pretty nighttime shots of Detroit, half-time shows and camera angles -- the fluff stuff -- NBC gets the nod. They're the rich uncle from New York. The worst legacy from ABC's Monday Night Football is three guys in the booth. It's bad in football and worse for a fast-moving sport like basketball. NBC's A-Team of Bill Walton, Steve "The Snapper" Smith, and Greg Gumble, the weird third cousins you see ("What are their names, mom?") once a year, prove this each Sunday. The sum, taken as a whole or individually, is mediocre. The Snapper comes across as an idiot. What's his role, except to giggle hysterically at one of his own insipid jokes? Walton, the glamour boy, though sometimes entertaining, seems like he just shows up for the games, takes the information someone hands him, and wings it. Walton should be able to offer more than grumbling about the officials ("It's the plaaaayoffs," his redundant line, "let 'em play"). Though this does set up The Snapper for one of his punchy one-liners, "You never did care much for those officials, did you Bill?" Har Har! Odd cousin Bill doesn't provide a player's view of the game within the game -- like he should -- and reveals few strategic insights. As a player, Bill personified the intelligent, hustling ballplayer. As a broadcaster, he's not trying. Gumble acts as a moderator, Larry between Moe and Curly, barely pretending to do play-by-play.

In contrast to Gumble is Marv Albert, who heads NBC's B-Team. Marv is the seedy uncle who wears a bad toupee and has had three wives. The kids like Uncle Marv. He's not condescending and tells us slightly dirty jokes. He's the best play-by-play man in the business. Like Neal, he fills the air with germane information. I'm never lost or annoyed, wondering what the damn score is. Unlike Neal, who uses a low-key, accountant-like approach, Albert does it with his trademark pizzazz. I hope he's innocent of the bad things he's accused of.

TNT's half-time show with Ernie Johnson, the younger first cousin you used to beat up, once a pretty good, albeit low-tech affair, has fallen on sad times. Ernie has a different "special guest" on every night, often a wholly non-verbal, rookie forward. The show has no continuity or rhythm, and has a distinctly amateur feel. Someone fell asleep at the switch. TNT can and has done much better.

On the NBC side, Hanna Storm is just barely competent. Dr. J, though he sports the nicest suits in the business, is not good on television. I like Peter Vecsey, even if he's basically a gossip saying nasty things -- often totally wrong -- about everybody. Cavalier coach Mike Fratello is good, a far more interesting half-time analyst than basketball coach.

Some of you, sadly, have already drifted away, saying your on-air goodbyes, with a hug and a handshake, just like we did in grandma's foyer. Until next year.