November 17, 2004

Bob Costas We, the crack

Bob Costas

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” never thought we’d say it, but there were couple of benefits to this year’s World Series appearing on the Fox Television Network. Well, perhaps we made too bold a claim. Even so, there was one benefit to Fox’s broadcast of the Major League Baseball playoffs. And this, dear reader, was the fact that NBC’s Bob Costas wasn’t covering the games.

We know what you are thinking, dear reader: Pretty much every sportscaster is a major league irritant. Joe Morgan, for instance, has risen to the pinnacle of his profession despite the fact that he shares Magic Johnson’s grasp of the English language. Tim McCarver routinely ‘phones in his weak performances. John Madden is fat. And Bob Uecker: Come on! We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” lost respect for him ever since they cancelled “Mr. Belvedere.”

Still, there is something particularly enraging about Bob Costas, NBC’s half-pint sentimentalist. This panjandrum seems incapable of discussing a sporting event without incessant recourse to stories that are supposed to tug at the viewership’s collective heartstrings.

For instance, the diminutive Mr. Costas is always bleating about his relationship with his father. My dad would never talk to me, he babbles, unless we were sitting side-by-side at a baseball game. If we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” were Bob Costas’ dad, we’d never take our son to a game; then we’d never have to talk to him.

There are, in fact, myriad reasons to loathe Bob Costas. Instead of discussing sporting events, he ineluctably offers dubious parallels between them and more grandiose occurrences. To Costas, baseball isn’t just baseball. Baseball is the quintessence of America. Baseball is democracy in action. Baseball is blah, blah, blah.

To which we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” respond: Oh, puh-lease. This guy is so sappy he’d make John Hughes vomit. He’s like the black Ahmad Rashad.

In his sundry television appearances, Costas is always attempting to demonstrate his fantastic sense of humor. It was due to his alluring charm, in fact, that he was the host of an NBC late-night show—until he was replaced by the even more gifted Carson Daly. Talk about talent.

All in all, though, clearly it is Costas’ penchant for turning any broadcast into some sort of ersatz tearjerker that should inspire all sports fans to bristle at the mention of his name. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” don’t know what “Costas” means in Spanish (or even if it is a Spanish word), but we have a hunch it stands for “Thank God for the mute button.”

Posted at November 17, 2004 12:01 AM | TrackBack