Read Online You Can't Make This Up: Miracles, Memories, and the Perfect Marriage of Sports and Television by Al Michaels, L. Jon Wertheim - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Al Michaels, L. Jon Wertheim
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distant third behind CBS and NBC in a three-network universe. So ABC had the least to lose by doing this.
Arledge knew that. But Rozelle preferred that the games not necessarily be on the (distant) third-place network in a three-way race. Rozelle asked the others first. NBC passed, fearful of letting football supplant its popular Movie of the Week program. CBS passed, too. They weren’t going to bump their Monday night hit Mayberry R.F.D . So almost by default, the slate of Monday night football games went to ABC, which replaced two shows— The Survivors and Love, American Style —to make room in the lineup.
When the rights went to ABC, Arledge felt it was very important to pick his own announcers. This was uncommon. In those days, if a league didn’t actually handpick the broadcasters, they had a strong influence on whom the networks could use on the games.
What’s more, for the Monday Night Football games, Arledge didn’t want to utilize just two announcers on the telecast, as was customary. He wanted a three-man booth. And one ofthe hires he had in mind was a former lawyer turned boxing analyst, an iconoclast who used words like supercilious and bellicosity on the air. That, of course, was Howard Cosell.
The NFL agreed. The New York Jets played the Cleveland Browns in the first Monday night game in 1970. Keith Jackson was the play-by-play announcer/straight man. And Cosell and Don Meredith, the folksy, recently retired Cowboys quarterback, were the color commentators. Don Rockwell, the news director, who was not a sports fan, said the network was making a disastrous decision and that the ratings would be embarrassing. I, on the other hand, thought it would be a phenomenal success, which was mainly due to my wishful thinking. Network sports in prime time? Yeah!
Meanwhile, in mid-November, while I was still getting over the rejection from the White Sox, came a call from the Cincinnati Reds. They were looking for a new radio play-by-play man. Would I fly to Cincinnati for an interview? Of course.
After another weekend of doing five football games—two Friday night high school games, two Saturday high school games, and a University of Hawaii game—I went to the airport to take a red-eye flight to Cincinnati with a connection in Los Angeles, where my mother met me at the airport to bring me my father’s overcoat and scarf so I’d have something to wear in Cincinnati, where I arrived early Sunday evening.
The next morning, I was picked up at the hotel by Gordy Coleman, the former Reds first baseman then working for the team in community affairs. The Reds hadn’t even met with me or made an offer, but Coleman was assigned to show me around town and drive me around some neighborhoods where I might want to settle if they offered me the job . Even if nothing was explicitly said, it seemed like a good sign for my prospects. We started in Kentucky directly across the Ohio River from downtown Cincinnati. I couldn’t say this to him, but the truth was, I had grown up in Brooklyn and then moved to Los Angeles. Now I am living in Hawaii. How could I possibly tell my family and friends: we’ve just moved to Kentucky! Our new address is in Kentucky! I couldn’t wait to get back on the other side of the river.
At around three thirty that afternoon, I arrived at the Reds’ team offices in the Central Trust Tower. (Riverfront Stadium had opened in the middle of the 1970 season, but the team offices were still under construction.) I met with the team’s general manager, Bob Howsam; his second-in-command, Dick Wagner; and the team’s director of broadcasting. Broadcasters didn’t have agents in those days. We talked for about an hour and a half, and they offered me the job. Two weeks earlier, I was told, in essence, that I was a little too young to be the Chicago White Sox’ number-one announcer. What a difference a fortnight makes, huh?
It turned out that Dick Wagner had called Chet Simmons, the number-two executive
Arledge knew that. But Rozelle preferred that the games not necessarily be on the (distant) third-place network in a three-way race. Rozelle asked the others first. NBC passed, fearful of letting football supplant its popular Movie of the Week program. CBS passed, too. They weren’t going to bump their Monday night hit Mayberry R.F.D . So almost by default, the slate of Monday night football games went to ABC, which replaced two shows— The Survivors and Love, American Style —to make room in the lineup.
When the rights went to ABC, Arledge felt it was very important to pick his own announcers. This was uncommon. In those days, if a league didn’t actually handpick the broadcasters, they had a strong influence on whom the networks could use on the games.
What’s more, for the Monday Night Football games, Arledge didn’t want to utilize just two announcers on the telecast, as was customary. He wanted a three-man booth. And one ofthe hires he had in mind was a former lawyer turned boxing analyst, an iconoclast who used words like supercilious and bellicosity on the air. That, of course, was Howard Cosell.
The NFL agreed. The New York Jets played the Cleveland Browns in the first Monday night game in 1970. Keith Jackson was the play-by-play announcer/straight man. And Cosell and Don Meredith, the folksy, recently retired Cowboys quarterback, were the color commentators. Don Rockwell, the news director, who was not a sports fan, said the network was making a disastrous decision and that the ratings would be embarrassing. I, on the other hand, thought it would be a phenomenal success, which was mainly due to my wishful thinking. Network sports in prime time? Yeah!
Meanwhile, in mid-November, while I was still getting over the rejection from the White Sox, came a call from the Cincinnati Reds. They were looking for a new radio play-by-play man. Would I fly to Cincinnati for an interview? Of course.
After another weekend of doing five football games—two Friday night high school games, two Saturday high school games, and a University of Hawaii game—I went to the airport to take a red-eye flight to Cincinnati with a connection in Los Angeles, where my mother met me at the airport to bring me my father’s overcoat and scarf so I’d have something to wear in Cincinnati, where I arrived early Sunday evening.
The next morning, I was picked up at the hotel by Gordy Coleman, the former Reds first baseman then working for the team in community affairs. The Reds hadn’t even met with me or made an offer, but Coleman was assigned to show me around town and drive me around some neighborhoods where I might want to settle if they offered me the job . Even if nothing was explicitly said, it seemed like a good sign for my prospects. We started in Kentucky directly across the Ohio River from downtown Cincinnati. I couldn’t say this to him, but the truth was, I had grown up in Brooklyn and then moved to Los Angeles. Now I am living in Hawaii. How could I possibly tell my family and friends: we’ve just moved to Kentucky! Our new address is in Kentucky! I couldn’t wait to get back on the other side of the river.
At around three thirty that afternoon, I arrived at the Reds’ team offices in the Central Trust Tower. (Riverfront Stadium had opened in the middle of the 1970 season, but the team offices were still under construction.) I met with the team’s general manager, Bob Howsam; his second-in-command, Dick Wagner; and the team’s director of broadcasting. Broadcasters didn’t have agents in those days. We talked for about an hour and a half, and they offered me the job. Two weeks earlier, I was told, in essence, that I was a little too young to be the Chicago White Sox’ number-one announcer. What a difference a fortnight makes, huh?
It turned out that Dick Wagner had called Chet Simmons, the number-two executive
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