In Defense of John Sterling

A few days ago, a caller to a Rochester, New York, talk radio station buzzed in to the nightly sports talk show to tell the world that John Sterling is the worst play-by-play broadcaster in baseball. The caller said he was disappointed in the station for carrying New York Yankees games because their listeners deserve better. (Forgive the man for not really understanding how it works.) Mr. Caller was insistent that Sterling "failed to paint a picture" and was too busy "worrying about statistics." The host agreed. He suggested that Sterling stop wasting his time coming up with new jingles for each player's home runs and focus on the game. The call ended with both men undoubtedly nodding proudly.

Their opinions, no doubt, are widely shared. There are many blogs dedicated to mocking Sterling and even more Twitter accounts that snark at his expense. And sometimes said blogs/Twitter accounts are pretty darn funny. But is he really the worst in baseball?

Sterling is absolutely the worst in baseball at a lot of things.

He bumbles over simple descriptions of on-field events. Sometimes he messes up so badly you think he's in the Bronx and the game is being played in Manhattan and he's trying to make out the action with low-power binoculars.

His interactions  with color analyst Suzyn Waldman are awkward at best, condescending at worst. Inning after inning, Waldman will make fair - albeit shallow - observations and Sterling will respond with either dead air, "and thaaa pitch" or "of course, Suzyn," and then carry on about his business. Waldman is widely mocked for calling Roger Clemens' return like Babe Ruth had just stepped out of the dugout, but her comments aren't always so silly. In fact, they are at least equivalent to that of most ex players holding the same position. But Sterling often sets her up to sound foolish.

Then there's the home run calls. They are a parody of themselves. They are abominably corny and often leave you with the same feeling as when your buddy has a little too much and decides to sing karaoke. Only Sterling's singing doesn't come off as funny or cute, it makes you think he wants to be the star of the show - that he's bigger than an A-Bomb or Tex Message.

So, yes, Sterling has more noticeable and easily discernible flaws than your middle-of-the-road mic jockey. \

But the man is entertaining as all hell.

When you listen to Sterling, you strap in for "John's Emotional Roller Coaster Ride," in which each inning  there's a chance you'll see something magical and when it's over, win or lose, nobody's more disappointed than him to go home.

Sterling cares about the Yankees like an old man that has a train collection in his basement. Getting on the mic is like him putting on his pinstriped conductor hat and heading down stairs to futz with the fake little landscapes and tell you about how he loves to accelerate around the curves. He chuckles at it all, often proclaiming, "isn't it amazing?"

When the Yankees lose, Sterling doesn't get angry, he gets disappointed. It's like A-Rod broke one of his favorite box cars. He knows there will be another, but he's still a little sad.

In the big moments, nobody could ever be more excited than he is. Many are better. Nobody is more pumped to be calling it. Sterling's pace will pick up. His voice will begin to quiver. He becomes a vocal volcano, hoping upon hope that his club allows him to erupt. And when Raul Ibanez hits that game-tying home run in the playoffs, his unabashed joy resembles a golden retriever that's been waiting to go out to play and the door is finally opened and Frisbee thrown.

Even if you hate the Yankees, hate Sterling, hate Roger Clemens, hate Micky Mantle and hate that over-priced soulless stadium and its $10 hamburgers and empty lower bowl, you can't hate a golden retriever chasing a Frisbee.

And about those home run calls. The endings are terrifically bad, but the beginnings are great. When the batter  hits the ball and Sterling yells, "swung on and hit deeeep to right field...." how can you not grip your chair waiting for him to say, "gawnnnn."

Heck, you can even make a little game out of whether the ball actually leaves the yard or ends up a pop out near first base.

The point is, there are probably 29 other radio broadcasts that are more accurate and even keeled, but few that are more fun than the Sterling's. In other words, his painting isn't exactly a Rembrandt like listening to Vin Scully, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy looking at it.

Of course, sometimes you have to get over yourself first.