The voice of Texas Tech basketball, Jack Dale, passed away yesterday. Texas sports fans may not know much about Texas Tech but they know Jack Dale. No one, and I mean literally no one in the nation could call a basketball game like Dale. His signature voice often moved beyond mere generalities to pin point precision when describing the action on the court. With Dale at the mic one envisioned the position of every player, pass, and shot on the court. The listener also knew when a defensive rebound took place because he introduced the fact with the phrase "taken away by."
Having grown up in a broadcasting family (Jack Dale replaced my dad as the basketball play-by-play man back in the 50's) I knew Jack Dale personally. He was a good man and a faithful Christian witness; not afraid to tell a group how his personal relationship with Christ infected his whole life.
When I lived near Lexington Kentucky for three years I often attended Kentucky basketball. While traveling in the car one night with my native Kentuckian friend, he made the statement that announcer Cawood Ledford, the voice of the Wildcats, is the best out there. After listening to Cawood, outstanding as he was, this insulted Texan retorted, "We got one better than Cawood. He may not be as well known, yet he offers a more detailed description of the action on the court. His name is Jack Dale." I meant it. I missed Dale's signature, "he jumps, shoots, AND scores," during my three years in Ky. And I, along with a legion of Red Raider fans sorely miss his familiar tone. I'm sure, however, if there is a game to be called in heaven Jack Dale is at the radio helm describing the action with enough round ball omniscience to impress even his Heavenly Father.
A FEW THOUGHTS CONCERNING TIGER WOODS
I play golf. I love golfers. I love professional golfers because they often embody all the characteristics we admire in gentlemanly athletes. Many professional golfers are men's men. Unlike strong men from contact sports, golfers exhibit gracious, kindly dispositions. Women like that in a man. So, indeed packaged in the golfer comes the complete man's man.
Then there is Tiger Woods, a golfer out of sync. One must admit he possesses an athletic adroitness second to none in the game. Yet, his surly disposition undoubtedly thwarts our attempts to fully embrace him as a member of the gentleman's club. We simply don't like the guy. That's why we always enthusiastically cheered for Phil Mickelson every time he and Tiger went head to head. Mickleson incarnates a personality we expect to witness in a prototypical golf champion. He always smiles even when the chips are down. We think he loves life.
Tiger Woods certainly is not the first golfer we merely tolerated. Long ago another champion named Ben Hogan captured our respect while shunning our affections. Hogan, however, developed his public aloofness through natural tragedy. His father committed suicide right before his eyes. Such a cataclysmic event would completely emotionally emasculate a lesser man. And, Hogan overcame his public introversion through another tragedy. A near fatal car wreck offered Hogan the chance to smell the roses.
Today's endorsements and hero worship catapults us to a new level. We admire those who live in million dollar homes, wear $20,000 Rolex watches, and drive custom made Escalades. We live our lives vicariously through their public display of opulence. Affability and graciousness matter little in our postmodern media saturated society. Even men's men from the most gentlemanly sport on earth sometimes fail to grasp the transcendent qualities needed for clean leaving. The women, however many there may be, in Tiger's sordid life, cleverly entered a relationship with him knowing full well the consequences and financial rewards. Gold diggers no doubt, who live in a shadow world. Fame and fortune possesses a tremendous penchant for impairing a sane man, jerking his chain, and taking him to a moral abyss where he formerly dare not go. Sometimes a person like Tiger must hit the proverbial bottom before he can look up and see a blue sky. Hopefully, like Ben Hogan, God may use Wood's tragedy to save his soul.
Nevertheless, we who create these modern idols must shoulder some responsibility for outcomes. Last year I published a piece in the same vein commenting on Barry Bond's disappointing us with his use of steroids. One need only substitute Bonds with Woods to see the big picture:
Posted by jeffreymark at 12:18 PM in Commentary, Golf, Sports | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)