The Guardian view on Richie Benaud: the model commentator

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/apr/10/guardian-view-richie-benaud-model-commentator

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If the living legend who is AP McCoy brings Shutthefrontdoor home to win the Grand National on Saturday, it will be the heartwarming sports story of this and many another year. Let us hope that Channel 4’s race commentator Simon Holt has thought long and carefully about the economy of words he will use to describe the event, if it occurs. For if Mr McCoy crowns his 20-year champion jockey’s career with a bookie-blasting win in the annual Aintree cavalry charge, the video clip will be shown for decades to come and Mr Holt’s words will be scored into the collective consciousness of a generation. He needs to get it right and get it tight.

Those who still remember Michael O’Hehir’s masterly control of the facts as he reeled off the fallers at the 23rd fence in the 1967 race or Sir Peter O’Sullevan’s “Hats off and a tremendous reception. You’ve never heard one like it at Liverpool” as Red Rum won the National for the third time in 1977 will understand that the ability to find the right words amid sporting mayhem is not easy. Mr O’Hehir’s words remain in the minds of those old enough to remember because he got all the practical detail – the names of the fallers – right while at the same time succinctly grasping the bigger picture – “There’s a right pile-up”. Sir Peter’s words remain memorable because of the emotion which this normally drily understated master-commentator allowed into his voice as Red Rum made history.

Unlike some who followed, his priority was always the sport, not his own ego

Richie Benaud, who died this week, knew better than almost anyone the importance of not saying too much in a sports commentary – and he would have known who to back at Aintree too. Mr Benaud was one of the first to make the transition from on-field stardom as a Test cricketer to commentary-box celebrity. But, unlike some who followed, his priority was always the sport, not his own ego.

Mr Benaud pioneered the precious art of addressing the viewer when there was something he could add to the pictures. Gradually he also acquired the ability of wry observation. But he never tried to become a character. As David Frith says in his obituary of the great cricketer, Mr Benaud was careful to ration his opinions. He didn’t need to be in our faces all the time. His unique selling point, as he and we understood for some 40 years, was his shrewdness.

Today, former sports stars routinely follow the career path from player to commentator or pundit. Far too many of them, though, have very little to say, though not in the artful and considered way of keeping it brief perfected by Mr Benaud. In modern sports commentary, collective blokethink and intensity are all, perhaps not yet in the relentless motormouth way of US sports commentary, though we are getting there. Today a former Test player is valued for bringing attitude, not for the judgment Mr Benaud offered. They are expected to be partisan, more excited by a home win than a good match, another error into which the scrupulously fair Mr Benaud never slipped. Mr Benaud always loved the game with which his life was synonymous. But, like all top commentators of all ages, he cared just as much about incisive journalism too.