Sportscaster Showdown

VS.



This is a tough one to call. On the one hand, you have Tom from Huntington University looking about as comfortable as a musical theatre student at a bachelor party. I absolutely lost it when he pounded the news desk like a Harry-Potter-reading Dennis Green, and the fact that he actually asks for a mulligan is unparalleled in the world of news broadcasting. But still, you need to be able to keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, and blaming Lauren the teleprompter girl while looking like you're about to go on a killing spree in a milk truck doesn't exactly exhibit the kind of ice-in-your-veins cool that we're looking for.


Because the truth is, it's like the great Ric Flair once said: "To be the best, you need to beat the best". And clearly, the Boom Goes the Dynamite kid is playing chess while the rest of the fledgling college local access wannabes are playing checkers.


This is an absolute tour de force as far as on-air awkwardness is concerned. It's almost like someone slipped rohypnol in poor Brian's ovaltine and just let the cameras roll.

For beginners, I think it's safe to say that my Grandmother knows more about sports than Brian Collins. For example, if the Ball State women's softball team loses 6-0, it's hard to imagine how they could have "started off good, but then eventually.. (indecipherable)... the Ball State women's team was shot down, and ended up doing poorly." His inability to follow a teleprompter is almost lost in the fact that he allows the highlights to reel in silence for mezmerizingly long stretches (an homage to Andy Kaufman, no doubt), and actually manages to mispronounce every single name over the course of a four minute span (Wayne SUMMERS!!!).

But despite the endless barage of seemingly unforgivable blunders, he somehow miraculously manages to pull the iron from the fire with that one brilliant catchphrase... And sure, he probably isn't even talking about the same highlight we're watching, but the guy is clearly a savant, and that's just part of the beauty of going with the generic: "later he gets the rebound, passes it to the man, shoots it, and... BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE!"

(For the record, my co-ed basketball team {The City All-Stars} has its inaugural game Tuesday night, and despite the fact that I won't be there to incessently turn the ball over and miss wide open jumpers, you can bet your throwback Rick Barry jersey that the first time I drain a big three, I'll be screaming "BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE!", before doing the Sam Cassell "big balls" dance and swatting the next 5'3 housewife brave enough to bring it in my house.)


I have no idea why he sighs in defeat and hangs his head in shame at the merciful end of it all, but I'm of the belief that if Brian Collins and Miss Teen South Carolina were to procreate, the universe as we know it would almost certainly spontaneously dematerialize.