I never have been to any of Joe Theismann’s three restaurants in Virginia, but I would imagine a visit goes something like this:
After you park your car, Theismann greets you and comments on the abundant parking. After you check your coat, Theismann talks about the coat-check area. After you are seated, Theismann discusses reservations-by-phone. After you get your menu and wine list, Theismann points out the better selections. After you order, Theismann recaps your choices. After your appetizer, entrée and dessert each arrives, Theismann analyzes the chef’s technique. After you pay your check, Theismann reminisces about the first dollar he ever earned. Finally, after you drive away, Theismann just keeps talking.
At least that’s the way Joe Theismann handles a football game these days.
ESPN began its third half-season of NFL telecasts Sunday night with the Redskins-Cowboys game. And, with its usual belated entry into the NFL season, ESPN hit the ground running. Likewise, Theismann hit the air running his mouth.
Here is a chilling statistic on Theismann’s 1989 debut: From the teams’ opening possessions—when play-by-play broadcaster Mike Patrick sets each lineup—until the Redskins went into a hurry-up offense with four minutes left in the game, Theismann made a comment after every play from scrimmage. That’s nearly four consecutive quarters without missing a snap.
(Note: Theismann did not comment after punts—because ESPN went to commercial—but even then, there’s no guarantee he didn’t keep talking. Several times I turned down the sound during the commercial break and cracked open my living room window, and I could swear I could hear Theismann’s voice from RFK Stadium.)
Now, there is absolutely positively no reason for an analyst to analyze after each and every play, but Theismann found the time to do it. From all indications, Theismann has never fumbled a microphone. In fact, the only reason ESPN broadcasts 24 hours a day is because it must accommodate Theismann and Dick Vitale.
I’ll admit it’s become de rigueur to derisively comment on Theismann’s talkative ways, but what is not as common is to look favorably upon much of what he has to say. Thus, I must give warning to those of you out there who cannot stand Theismann: The rest of this column (which will be almost as painful for me to write as it will be for you to read) contains positive statements about the quarterback-turned-soliloquist.
Theismann, in fact, cemented a pretty strong ESPN broadcast. Patrick, as usual, was sort of okay. The cable network’s overall production, as usual, was steady. ESPN’s biggest flaw, it seemed, was its insistence on shoving too much eclectic statistical information onto the screen—say, the percentage of times the Redskins have scored on drives of 70 yards or longer since 1945 when a Republican administration was in the White House—and then taking it away in two seconds’ time. The quality of information, remarkably, was higher when Theismann spoke.
Theismann kept making a lot of reasonably pertinent points. He was critical of the Cowboys’ early play-calling, of their wide receivers not making big plays (or rookie quarterback Steve Walsh, of Mike Saxon’s needlessly booming punts into the end zone, of cornerback Everson Walls’s inability to play zone defense as well as man-to-man.
And Theismann was critical of the Redskins’ lack of emotion, of Dexter Manley’s inciting the RFK fans and taking a penalty for it, of Doug Williams trying to force the ball to Ricky Sanders. All night—while sympathetic toward Williams because of his rustiness—Theismann accurately pinpointed Williams’s problems, saying he’s “been late with every deep pattern he’s tried to throw.”
Also, Theismann posed the proper question early on as the game puttered along: Were the Cowboys finally getting it together as a team, or had the Redskins deteriorated so much that they struggled even against the weakest opposition?
Still, the proper question after any ESPN NFL telecast remains: If Joe Theismann makes an off-air comment and nobody’s there to hear it, does it make a sound?