Gals, You Are Getting On My Nerve Center

Getting in touch with my inner catty bitch.

By Beth Weisbrod

After watching two televised sporting events (an MLB playoff game, and a random college football game) one recent weekend, I've come to a painful conclusion: some females are hard to watch and harder to listen to when they're talking sports. Come with me to the ESPN sports update newsroom, also known as the Nerve Center, which is where Linda Cohn, in all her accessorized and bold, brown-suited glory, held forth on this particular Saturday for the all-important sports updates.

Cutting to the Nerve Center from a baseball game feels a little like what happens on Sesame Street . We're on the Street, living it up with Big Bird, when suddenly, with little fanfare, we're plopped in some classroom and expected to learn and embrace the alphabet. During what seemed like a completely random moment during the baseball game--I think A-Rod was about to strike out-we were sent speeding to the newsroom to have Ms. Linda orchestrate clips and narrate updates so we could feel our finger on the pulse of other games. Some viewers may need this. I, however, felt annoyed at being yanked out of my Zen Den-a place where my head stays while watching sports on TV with my boys. I must achieve and maintain this comfortable trance so I can sit for the required three hours necessary to watch a game from start to finish. But then Ms. Linda barges in, uninvited, and makes me a little cranky.

The problem for me comes quickly. Her choice of clothes is distractingly bad on this particular Saturday. Her brown suit and busy blouse, introduced with loud neck bling, drain color from her face. I'm not picky about colors, and even though my skin and hair tones make me a 'resplendent summer', I'm not sure I've bought into that whole color pallet thing. But this unfortunate combination jumped out at me. And it got me off to a bad start with Ms. Linda. I know, Terry Bradshaw is no feast for the eyes, with his baggy face and ill-fitting dress shirts, and Howie Long occasionally looks like he dressed himself in the dark. So you need to know that I'm not just picking on females here. I'm picking on Ms. Linda.

Like, why does she lower her voice when she says, "Darius Walker runs 32-yards for the score"? This sounds butch to me. If I had to say, "He got lit up!" as part of my job, I would say it in the same tone that I say, "Can someone feed the dog?" No male affectation needed. The way I see it, if you're going to accessorize confidently, and play up your femininity with big earbobs, you don't trade your gender at the last minute, when you have the chance to pull it all together. In the business world, it's good for a woman to have a low voice. It engenders respect and creates an aura of calm. Adopting a low voice while giving me the sports low down, however, creates the specter of a woman trying sound like a man. Which is stupid. Still worse is the faux-perky delivery. "A-Rod goes 1 for 14 in this post season!" should not be delivered like a bouquet of fresh spring flowers. This is real tragedy to some viewers. More importantly, it makes Ms. Linda seem better suited to the Home Shopping Channel, drumming up excitement for food processors.

On the ESPN college football sidelines, we had Holly Rowe making us proud, leading with abundant cleavage and offering such substantial insights as, ".and tendons are what move those bones up and down." Whether she used a high voice or low one for this little gem is irrelevant.

Linda and Holly, it's true, I'm jealous that you two are talking sports on TV and I'm driving carpool. However, as we all know, occasionally the best play-calling comes from the stands or, in some cases the, driver's seat. So, here's my simple advice: Play down the flash and the flesh, and work on the substance. And next time, maybe try something in a soft beige, with just a hint of brown.

 

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