The Low Estate Of The Fourth Estate In The NBA Postseason

The NBA Finals is the best-on-best in the league. West versus East. Kawhi versus Steph. And plays that amaze.

Sadly, the same can’t be said for many of the accumulated reporters and announcers who also are working the Finals. While Pascal Siakim makes stunning drives and Klay Thompson drops distant threes the men and ladies of the fourth estate are stuck in neutral when the time comes to shine.

I’m not sure when it began, but at some point courtside reporters and their bosses decided that the world was dying for questions like, “What does this win say about the character, fortitude, smarts and penmanship of your team?”

In truth, that question almost always follows a breathless preamble in which the questioner seeks to signal the audience that she/ he is a scholar of strategy. Ergo, “Kyle, most observers felt coming into this series that the sum of the square of the hypotenuse was equal to the sum of the share of the other two sides. People doubted you could even spell hypotenuse. Now this win tonight.

“What does this win say about the character, fortitude, smarts and penmanship of your team?”

“Um… we try not to get ahead of ourselves? They’ve got a great team? Draymond Green deserves a kick in the nuts?”

(The affirmation tongue bath has at least supplanted the previous dread interview clanger “Talk about…” As in, “Talk about how turnovers will be key…” or “Talk about your mental preparation…” or “Talk about Drake. Anything about Drake. Talk about your favourite Drake song.”)

This classic technique is inevitably followed by our intrepid TV hair-and-teeth saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a noisier building. How big a factor was the crowd tonight?”

“Um… I couldn’t hear what Drake was saying.”

I’m waiting for announcers, panelists and other network flacks to say, “This is a mediocre crowd. They did nothing for the game. They’re a bunch of lollipops.” No, it’s always the noisiest building in the universe. “You thought the Roman Coliseum was noisy? The Scotiabank crowd is even louder.”

The other courtside pearl is the between-quarters chat with the head coach, pretaped so it can be played over the first 30 seconds of the next quarter. TV reporter: “They went small on you there and got a big lead using the backdoor cutter. But you fought back when they got into foul trouble. What does this say about the second unit?”

At this point the coach is expected to cordially surrender his game plan to the reporter. “You know, Bambi, we saw something in the tape that we’re exploiting like hell. When they come up court we know they like to isolate Marc on Boogie. We’re killing them with it. Please don’t tell anyone. Oh, we’re also going to kick Draymond Green in the nuts.”

Instead we get, “We’ve made some adjustments.” And it’s back to the booth.

Postgame pressers are little better. Now, I have sympathy for reporters on tight deadlines that would make the average person cry. You need to get in and get out with your material. I see a few of my old colleagues still working it. Convincing a disinterested superstar to drop that one pearl that will make your story is an art form.

But it starts with good questions. If you think courtside reporters have a bad case of the “look at me’s” it’s nothing compared to the Red Auerbachs of the press scrum. “JaMarcus, your coach was saying the backside pressure on the pick-and-roll was key to breaking down their penetration from the perimeter, extending possessions till they’re forced to take a flagrant-one foul that gets you into the bonus. How did that play into the game tonight?”

“Um… we try not to get ahead of ourselves? They’ve got a great team? Draymond Green deserves a kick in the nuts?” 

Finally we have the boys in the booth. (Because they are all boys except when Doris Burke gets her rare shot.) They’re led by the intrepid Rod Black, who appears to have graduated to the Seventh Ring of Ecstasy in these playoffs. Black’s interview with Leonard before Game 2 was a thing to behold. Like a car crash. Leonard had the look of a condemned man as Black cajoled him about re-signing with Toronto this summer. Kawhi seemed appalled and apathetic all in his Nook LaLoosh response.

At least we are spared the three-man ESPN circus in the play-by-play desk. Analysts Jeff Van Gundy and Mark Jackson seem a word count as they hunt dead air to extinction. Canadian TV has sensibly kept it to just Matt Devlin and Leo Rautins (or Jack Armstrong) for the final. Okay, Matt Devlin, Leo Rautins and Leo’s pom-poms. While Devlin attempts to keep the wheels on the broadcast, Rautins is dong a version of Tinder with Kyle Lowry, Kawhi Leonard and Siakim. Armstrong, meanwhile functions as a fourth referee, bitching about fouls against Toronto.

I wish I could say any of this was new. But back in the Paleolithic days of TV, Canadian comedian Dave Broadfoot captured the mindless player interview. His feckless “Thanks Big Jim” is a catchphrase that still tickles many a Boomers’ memory. In this Broadfoot obit is the classic Bobby Clobber being interviewed by Big Jim over wearing his helmet  “My helmet keeps my head safe. And I enjoy the music too.”

The series is now tied at a win apiece s it heads to Oakland for Game Three on Wednesday. The Warriors are battered and limping. The Raptors are dazed and confused. That will be just the invitation for the folks in press corps to get extra creative with their questions.

“Draymond, everyone says you’re going to get kicked in the nuts. What does that say about your team?”

 Bruce Dowbiggin @dowbboy is the publisher of Not The Public Broadcaster (http://www.notthepublicbroadcaster.com). He’s also a regular contributor to Sirius XM Canada Talks Ch. 167. A two-time winner of the Gemini Award as Canada's top television sports broadcaster, he is also a best-selling author whose new book Cap In Hand: How Salary Caps Are Killing Pro Sports And Why The Free Market Could Save Them brucedowbigginbooks.ca is now available.