Commentators of Bill McLaren’s quality are now few and far between

Sometimes, quite often really, when watching sport on television, I find myself in crotchety style muttering “stop wittering on and do your job”. Some commentators are so irritating that it’s better to lower the volume or even turn the sound off. You don’t miss much, because you already know that the commentator is failing to do the first and, for the viewer, most important part of his job. This is, of course, to identify the player, to say who has the ball, who is tackling him, or who he has passed it to. Now I quite see that for the commentator giving us this information is a lot less interesting than giving us his opinion on this or that. The viewer however doesn’t want his opinion; he wants to be told who made that tackle or gave that pass.

This was something my old friend Bill McLaren never forgot. He knew that a great many viewers don’t watch a lot of rugby and are therefore unfamiliar with the players. Many will recognize only a few even in their own national side, let alone the opposition. It’s the commentator’s job to identify them. If he can add a descriptive phrase, so much the better. It helped of course that Bill came to TV after serving his apprenticeship in radio, where the listener can make no sense of a match if the commentator forgets this first duty. Bill, in his prime anyway, was a master of identification, just as the doyen of Racing correspondents, Peter O’Sullevan, was. In both case their ability to supply names to pictures was the result of hours of patient preparation.

In one way, admittedly, Bill had an advantage over today’s commentators. There was far less rugby on TV in his time. He wasn’t whisked from match to match over the course of a weekend. He could and would attend practice sessions, familiarising himself with players new to him. He would make copious notes – about a player’s appearance, style of running etc, among other things; this helping him to identify the ball-carrier, tackler etc in the midst of hectic action. Most important of all he always remembered that he was there to help the viewer understand what was happening and so enjoy himself.

Identification matters. Cricket is, one assumes, one of the easier games for a commentator, and the members of the SKY Commentary team, all themselves retired Test cricketers, are certainly very knowledgeable. But there are things they forget, or neglect, to do. For instance, they frequently omit to tell you who has fielded a ball. We don’t always recognize fielders, especially when they are wearing dark glasses, but one assumes the commentator always does: so name him, or indeed her. Though this is the fault of the producer rather than the commentators themselves – you can come in while the match is in progress – say, in the middle of the afternoon – and watch for twenty minutes without seeing the scorecard flashed on the screen.

Great commentators – Bill McLaren, Richie Benaud, Peter Alliss – always remembered that they were talking to you, an individual. They had been, as it were, invited into your sitting-room. But more often nowadays one has no sense that the commentator is speaking to you, no sense that he, or again she, is even aware of you. They often seem more interested in talking to each other, even arguing with each other, and in doing so, forget that their first duty is to the listening viewer. There is one regular rugby commentator who always infuriates me. He is very knowledgeable, especially about French rugby, and I would be grateful to him for imparting that knowledge if it ever seemed that he was speaking to me. Sadly it doesn’t. He drones away in a muttered monologue, which is more likely to distract you from what is happening on the screen than to enlighten you.

Richie Benaud, who was to cricket what Bill McLaren was to rugby, believed that most commentators talk too much. They should keep quiet unless they had something useful, interesting or relevant to say. If they are sparing of speech, then what they say will be listened to and remembered. If they keep on prattling, the viewer finds the flow of words tiresome and distracting. The commentator’s job is to add to the occasion, not to be the occasion.

It may be because most, though not yet all, football, rugby or cricket commentators are retired international or Test players, that so many seem to have given little thought to what their viewing audience wants from them. Admittedly it’s difficult to please everyone. The range of viewers will extend from experienced supporters, many of whom will have played the game themselves, to people with at best a basic knowledge of the sport. All have to be catered for. At the same time the commentators must try to remember that the audience for, let us say, a rugby international will not only be larger but much more varied than the audience for a club match. More explanation or elucidation of the Laws of the game will be necessary in the former case than in the latter. Sometimes, however, it seems that commentators who are recently retired professionals are speaking only to each other or to people like themselves, forgetting that most viewers know much less than they do, but are still entitled to be catered for.

Commentators should try to remember that they are intermediaries, not stars. They may have been great players, but they are now journalists. They are there to perform a function, and that function is descriptive, explanatory, analytical. It is only occasionally suitable for them to express an opinion, and it is a strange viewer who is more interested in hearing commentators disagreeing and arguing with each other rather than helping him to understand and appreciate what he is watching. In old-fashioned style, I don’t think commentators should criticize refereeing decisions (though of course, as a fan, one does this oneself). The one time I think they should be prepared to express an opinion forcibly is in condemning foul or dangerous play –  a matter indeed on which Bill McLaren was always ready to speak out in condemnation.