What makes a good soccer commentator?
- Know the players on the field by sight, so you can rapidly say things like “Smith passes to Jones; Jones to Marmoset, Marmoset back to Jones…”
- Make predictions based on your previous soccer experience, of the ilk “If France keeps playing like this, it’s going to be a 4-0 game before the half!” and “Johnson, would you call me daft if I said France were the favorites despite being down 4-2?”
- Be human. E.g. “My son texted me at the half to ask why doesn’t England always play like this?”
- When you have a hunch, puil up a statistic: “Y’know, I said earlier that this might be the highest World Cup game in two decades. Turns out it’s the highest scoring game since Sri Lanka vs Pakistan in 1982”.
- Make comparisons to other sports about which you’re familiar: “There’s no defense on either side: they’re playing like the NBA All-Star Game right now!”
Things not to do:
- Go on and on about one topic over and over again. (“Like I said earlier, some people don’t like there being a third place match. But this third place match was excellent.”)
Having watched the World Cup this year, it turns out the traits of being a good commentator highly correlate with one particular demographic, and anti-correlate with another. So my biggest suggestion to you, should you want to be a good soccer commentator, is:
- Don’t be American.
—
An unrelated musing:
Why are nachos better than salad?
- Nachos: the best stuff is on the top so you eat it first.
- Salad: the best stuff falls to the bottom.
When you’re hungrier, food tastes better. So sequencing the food to have the best food first (nachos) is better than having the best food last (salad).
Also the crunch.
[Partner says she wants Nachos to be more like salad. I think she’s insane.]
Julian Wise 