Rant #4: In Defense Of Sideline Reporters

The consensus on female sideline reporters is that they don’t say much and what they do say is stupid. I agree. Listening to sideline reporters is a waste. But it’s well worth the effort to watch them.

Say you’ve rented, well, we’ll just call it a “movie”. First scene has five gorgeous women pool-side. They suddenly become enthralled with the pizza boy. If your reaction is to ask “Why?” you’re missing the point of the “movie.” The same is true with watching a sideline reporter.

Her entertainment value, however, goes well beyond the “soft porn” effect. I mean you have to love it when the camera shows her running to the locker room. With the “click clack, click clack” of 3 inch pumps, she clearly deserves an endorsement from Under Armour. Though if I’m going to see Erin Andrews in a commercial the item I’d like her to model is definitely not shoes.

I also get a kick out of the mid-game interview with a player’s dad. Every time the sideline reporter asks, “How do you think your son’s doing tonight?” And every time I’m just hoping to hear, “Well Erin, I really couldn’t tell you ‘cause the last 5 minutes I’ve been staring at your boobs.”

But the best part of the sideline reporter experience is the attempted interview with the coach whose team is behind by 30 at the half. The composure this coach is forced to display is Gandhi-like. He must try to answer the interviewer’s asinine questions while somehow keeping himself from checking out her ass.

Thinking back to stressful events in my life I’m pretty sure that a question posed by a sideline reporter at the half-way point would probably have caused me, and some other people, to go over the edge. Here are a few actual scenarios with the person being interviewed and the corresponding question:

Scenario #1. Me during my first driving test.
Question: Do you really think it will be necessary to continue with the second half of this test?

Scenario #2 My mother-in-law at my wedding.
Question: 30 minutes to go. Any chance you’ll look at the groom without shaking your head?

Scenario #3 Me during the bar exam.
Question: On day one you literally lost clumps of hair and your nose bled uncontrollably. Any chance for spontaneous combustion on day 2?

Scenario#4 My wife during the birth of our first child.
Question: Do you think your husband will be back from the bathroom before the delivery?

Scenario #5. Me on my 40th birthday.
Question: Do you realize that you are likely only half-way to the sweet release of death?

Occasionally a sideline reporter will actually pose a seemingly intelligent question like “Should you stay with the 2-3 or go with a box and 1?” These questions must make the coach want to remove the reporter’s ear-piece and say, “Now ask me something without the help of the dorks in the studio.”

Maybe the network execs thought that the coaches would actually enjoy dealing with stone cold babes. I’m sure they did at first. But after a while Bonnie Bernstein simply serves as a depressing reminder to the coach - the woman he’s forced to share his bed with is a comparative wildebeest.

Next time Ms. Bernstein is thrusting at some coach, try to look through the haze of smoke coming from his nose and inside a faint thought bubble you’ll see: “I cannot believe this person and my wife are both able to call themselves women. This girl’s rear end is so small I could palm it. My wife looks like she has a beanbag chair attached to her legs. I got to pull a Boeheim and get me a hotty.”

I think I’ve found a way to actually better the sideline reporter’s interview with the coach – use more than one sideline reporter. I mean a lot more. Like 15-20 more. Imagine all of these women rushing a coach at the half armed with aneurysm causing questions like, “What high school do you think you’ll be coaching at next year?”

I also picture Helen Thomas showing up shouting, “And I have a follow up question.” Yeah, I realize that Helen Thomas might actually stand out a bit and not just because she’ll be clad in her signature red. But that’s not the big problem. The big problem is I’m not sure if Helen Thomas is still alive.

Here’s an even better idea. Instead of hiring sideline reporters, just use the aspiring trophy wives who are already on the sideline. That’s right – make the cheerleaders the sideline reporters. At the half they could accost the opposing coach en masse with their own version of U.G.LY by Daphne & Celeste. It’s pretty sad that I actually know who sings that song. I also know it’s on the Bring it On Soundtrack. I’m pathetic.

Ugly-(improved by lyricist Dave Barend)

U-G-L-Y
You ain’t got no alibi you ugly
Eh! Hey! You Ugly.

You look at your feet instead of callin’ a play
Do you really think you’ll last another day?

You have no clue all you’re doing is screaming.
You’re soaked in sweat and your bald head’s gleaming

You’re senile, half-deaf and your life’s a mess
When the horn went off why’d you say God bless?

You’re short, fat and your tie’s askew
Danny DeVito could double for you

The give and go the pick and roll
Things generally mastered by a 9 year old

Ref says sit down and you show no spine
You split your pants running down the line

Your socks don’t match and there’s a pimple on your head.
Shouldn’t you be selling insurance instead?

You’re Ugly!

I've got to give a thanks to Keith Mangas for posting some complimentary comments about my blog on the St. Bona Bandwagon message board. A thanks also goes to James Healy and Sean Meskill who plugged the blog via James' massive St. Bona email chain. Go Bonnies!!

Take it easy,
Dave

Coming Wednesday: My first set of weekly rankings. Friday: Predictions for Saturday's games.