I'll give ESPN minor credit where it's due. At least they know to integrate the nerds and the jocks (unlike the NFL on NBC). But, William Theodore Walton III, is neither. Too subjective to be a nerd, too much of a Neil Young fan to be a jock, Bill Walton doesn't fit cleanly into any of the neat little cookie-cutter archetypes ESPN (also called "the Good Folks at Disney") have created for the typical half-ass American sports fan.
Part flower child, part satirist, part historian and part babbling fool—Big Red is everything you could ever hope for in a sports personality. When he's in the booth.
The genius of Walton, shines through when he's able to react to an inter subjective reality (in our case, a basketball game) both the viewer and the self-described "smoking crater" that is Bill Walton's brain, share. In a sense, it's the beauty of improvisation. Something happens, and you react to it in your own individual way. And the way people react--the way people improvise is an accumulation of their life experiences, and the unique genetic characteristics that have predisposed them to have those experiences in the manner they did.
Walton is a classical orator, of grand and outlandish proportions. His life, his tastes, his attitudes are 1,000 books apart from his co-workers and contemporaries. No, its not unusual that someone is well read. Nor is it unusual that that same person, also is a spirited follower of rock bands from the 60s and 70s. It's not unusual that they might also be environmentally conscious, or have the gift of the gab. But it is unusual, that this same person was once a professional basketball player. In fact, not just a professional basketball player, but one of the greatest basketball players to ever play. Add onto that, the fact that he struggled mightily with a speech impediment for a good portion of his life and you've got the potential for one very interesting reactionary.
Just listen to this call, during Boris Diaw's breakout year with the Phoenix Suns. It's a prime example of what Walton--and what no one else can bring to the table. You can hear the sense of ironic anticipation Mike Tirico's voice from the word "yeah?" It's almost as if he's thinking: "God, what is he going to say now," but at the same time thinking "God, I can't wait to hear what he's going to say!"
Walton is a true Trailblazer--as he was quite literally, metaphorically on the basketball court and today as a color commentator. He worked best with the snappy, blunt but intelligent nature of Steve "Snapper" Jones, while they were at NBC, but consistently gave people a reason to watch at ESPN when he still did color. Walton can be very right, and astute and he can also be very wrong, and preposterous. But whatever he's saying--it's entertaining. It gets you to react one way or another. His style is remarkably defined and progressive, yet he's rooted staunchly in traditional beliefs instilled upon him by his father, and the great John Wooden. He is self-deprecating, and gracious. He makes you wonder if he seriously believes what he is saying at times--a characteristic I absolutely adore, as he burns down antiquated notions of what is proper funny in sports commentary, and what is not. But most of all he doesn't think about basketball as just basketball. To Bill Walton, basketball is metaphor, for life. It's sacred and fundamental to the wayward journey that is life.
And that's precisely why he deserves to call the games. Because that's where Walton is at his finest. In the studio, alongside the obnoxious personality of Stuart Scott, and the disturbing (albeit hilarious) sensationalism that is Stephen A. Smith, Walton is patronized, and prostituted as "that crazy white guy" on the set. Very little could be further from the truth--Walton is of course so much richer than just crazy (he's brilliant, incredibly thick and crazy--the rarest of combinations). But there's no chemistry when everything becomes so scripted and so rehearsed.
I want free form Bill Walton. That old, crazy, intellectual red-headed octopus of a Trailblazer. I want that Bill Walton.
Part flower child, part satirist, part historian and part babbling fool—Big Red is everything you could ever hope for in a sports personality. When he's in the booth.
The genius of Walton, shines through when he's able to react to an inter subjective reality (in our case, a basketball game) both the viewer and the self-described "smoking crater" that is Bill Walton's brain, share. In a sense, it's the beauty of improvisation. Something happens, and you react to it in your own individual way. And the way people react--the way people improvise is an accumulation of their life experiences, and the unique genetic characteristics that have predisposed them to have those experiences in the manner they did.
Walton is a classical orator, of grand and outlandish proportions. His life, his tastes, his attitudes are 1,000 books apart from his co-workers and contemporaries. No, its not unusual that someone is well read. Nor is it unusual that that same person, also is a spirited follower of rock bands from the 60s and 70s. It's not unusual that they might also be environmentally conscious, or have the gift of the gab. But it is unusual, that this same person was once a professional basketball player. In fact, not just a professional basketball player, but one of the greatest basketball players to ever play. Add onto that, the fact that he struggled mightily with a speech impediment for a good portion of his life and you've got the potential for one very interesting reactionary.
Just listen to this call, during Boris Diaw's breakout year with the Phoenix Suns. It's a prime example of what Walton--and what no one else can bring to the table. You can hear the sense of ironic anticipation Mike Tirico's voice from the word "yeah?" It's almost as if he's thinking: "God, what is he going to say now," but at the same time thinking "God, I can't wait to hear what he's going to say!"
Walton is a true Trailblazer--as he was quite literally, metaphorically on the basketball court and today as a color commentator. He worked best with the snappy, blunt but intelligent nature of Steve "Snapper" Jones, while they were at NBC, but consistently gave people a reason to watch at ESPN when he still did color. Walton can be very right, and astute and he can also be very wrong, and preposterous. But whatever he's saying--it's entertaining. It gets you to react one way or another. His style is remarkably defined and progressive, yet he's rooted staunchly in traditional beliefs instilled upon him by his father, and the great John Wooden. He is self-deprecating, and gracious. He makes you wonder if he seriously believes what he is saying at times--a characteristic I absolutely adore, as he burns down antiquated notions of what is proper funny in sports commentary, and what is not. But most of all he doesn't think about basketball as just basketball. To Bill Walton, basketball is metaphor, for life. It's sacred and fundamental to the wayward journey that is life.
And that's precisely why he deserves to call the games. Because that's where Walton is at his finest. In the studio, alongside the obnoxious personality of Stuart Scott, and the disturbing (albeit hilarious) sensationalism that is Stephen A. Smith, Walton is patronized, and prostituted as "that crazy white guy" on the set. Very little could be further from the truth--Walton is of course so much richer than just crazy (he's brilliant, incredibly thick and crazy--the rarest of combinations). But there's no chemistry when everything becomes so scripted and so rehearsed.
I want free form Bill Walton. That old, crazy, intellectual red-headed octopus of a Trailblazer. I want that Bill Walton.
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