Commentators' bloopers

It's hard to commentate for live sport on television -- I readily concede that much.

We who write our opinions, have time to consider them. Those brave souls on television are constantly aware that once they say something, it can't be taken back. Like toothpaste words..once they're out of the tube they can't be put back.

Nevertheless, it's just just as hard not to poke fun at some of the comical things commentators say in the heat of the moment; and over the years there have been some howlers.

Former England seam bowler Robin Jackman -- one of South African cricket's four best commentators, I hasten to say --- was commentating on a day when a debate started about the cameras around the ground (sometimes 12 of them) and just how much they could actually do to cancel out doubt in the event of very tight calls for catches or line calls such as stumping or run out.

He felt they were pretty capable since they were all collaborated with each other. He meant calibrated of course; we knew that. But it was very funny nevertheless.

Then there was an Indian commentator calling a Test between India and England, during which Jimmy Anderson the England fast bowler, was being subjected to some harsh treatment by India's batsmen.

With commendable compassion, given the often one-eyed approach of Asian commentators to their work, the commentator in question suggested Anderson was too good a bowler to be down for long.

"He's bound to have another trick or two up his arm,'' he said.

The Indian, Pakistani and Sri Lankan commentators, with the exception -- in my experience --- of Russel Arnold, the former Sri Lankan Test player --- often make forays into the tricky world of Englsih idiomatic usage with hilarious consequences.

But there are others who should know better. Such as the South African commentator who feared that  the batsman was leaving his stumps too exposed.

"If that ball hits the stumps, he's going to be out,'' warned the commentator. We just didn't know that.

There is an unspoken code between television companies all over the world --- only former international cricketers should be allowed to commentate. But history has shown that this is not neciessarily a fail-safe approach. Under the pressure of live commentary even those who were know for their courage on the field, can succumb meekly.

An expression has crept into cricket over time, that is borrowed from golf. Batsmen who are strong and muscular, and can hit the ball along way-- and powerfully -- are said by commentators to be able to "hit a long ball".

The expression reach Asia of course, and was incorrectly construed as being appropraite in the singular and plural forms.

So, said a Pakistani commentator, of Brendon McCullum, the explosive New Zealand batsman: "He hits long balls".

It somehow just does not feel the same, does it.

It's a source of constant amazement to me that New Zealand rugby commentators, to whom some Afrikaans names must look like hieroglyphics, make sure they get the names exactly right.

Brian Johnson, that iconic Englilsh commentator who entertained couch potatoes for many years with his entertaing and meticulously accurate cricket commentaries, relates one particularly funny story about a Pakistani bowler with the surname Afaq.

He says when the team of commentators arrived at the ground read the team sheets for the game, they immediately foresaw the dangers lurking. Said one of them: "There's an accident waiting to happen''… or something to that effect.

But, for a long time, the commentators avoided falling into that  trap, skilfully negotiating their way around the name. That is, until  late into the afternoon, when the post lunch dip was taking its effect, or the strain of a long day on live TV, was beginning to take its toll.

"The captain has decided to make a change. He's going to have Afaq at the pavillion end….oh no! What have I said!?"

According to Johnson, the rest of the commentators in the box were rendered helpless with laughter and there was a pregnant pause in commentary.

Hardly fair, of course, that the Pakistanis should include a player with the name Afaq in their squad, especially for a tour of England, where commentators are notorious for getting names wrong.

A Labuschagne is a Labuschagne, with the hard, guttural 'g' and not Labschayne, as the English icommentators would have you believe.

To the English, the name  Van der Westhuizen is "van (as in vehicle) der Westhhoozin" with the W pronounced as a W instead of the Afrikaans "V"

Of course Faf du Plessis (Fuf du Plessi -- silent last S -- to us) is Faf (as in fat) du Plessis (as in sister) to them.

It's something of a colonial hangover I think. If the English believe it should be so, then it much be so.

There are rivers all along the KZN coast that have had to be renamed to their original Zulu spellings from the spellings British colonialists gave them -- at a cost to South African taxpayers and not English ones, I might add.

So there are general slip-ups in live commentary, as there are arrogant ones in other cases.

But, after all, what's in a name?