World Cup Punditry: An Exercise in Unprofessionalism

A Startling Admission

During Chile’s opening match of the World Cup, ITV commentator Clive Tyldesley admitted he knew very little about them. His explanation was that he had not seen much coverage of the “Copa Libertadores and the like,” apparently unaware that this is a club competition. It was a remarkable confession of a lack of preparation, one that would likely trigger a resignation in any other profession. Tyldesley compounded the error by noting that Chile had finished top scorers in South American qualifying, just a point behind Brazil, yet had still laughed off their chances of reaching the semi-finals. The analysis seemed based on little more than a lazy application of their historical record to the current squad, rather than any informed insight.

Of course, Chile’s path to a semi-final was difficult, requiring them to beat either Spain or Brazil. They had lost twice to Brazil in qualifying. But had they been in the other half of the draw, their prospects might have been very different. This level of simple analysis seemed beyond the commentary box. In years past, a lack of available footage might have been a valid excuse for such ignorance, but technology has rendered that argument obsolete. For a major television station like ITV, the budget should surely stretch to providing its lead commentators with enough material to develop a working knowledge of all 32 finalists.

A Tired Format

The panel of experts was once an innovation. For the Mexico finals forty years ago, ITV assembled a group with combative personalities like Derek Dougan and the tactical acumen of Malcolm Allison. Jimmy Hill, in his day, was considered an imaginative presence. The format, however, has long since grown stale. Jimmy Greaves was a breath of fresh air in 1982, but by 1986 even his humour had faded, and his analysis of foreign teams often relied on lazy national stereotypes. This regression continued with pundits like Peter Reid, who in 2002 regularly confessed that he “didn’t know much about this lot.”

Viewers have grown accustomed to certain failings. David Pleat’s mangled pronunciations have become almost a form of self-parody, and commentators repeatedly wondering why the Spanish players do not sing their national anthem is a familiar trope. Alan Hansen’s reduction of analysis to the phrase “pass and move” has become a running joke. But the punditry at this tournament has gone beyond these familiar inadequacies.

Martin Keown, for example, seemed to have learned past mistakes only to repeat them. Every time a player from outside the Premier League successfully trapped a ball, Keown would insist that “Premiership managers will be looking at him.” This was embarrassing enough when said of Nigeria’s Victor Enyeama, but it became farcical when applied to Japan’s Yuji Nakazawa. It had to be pointed out to Keown that Nakazawa was 32 years old and had 102 caps. Instead of a moment of quiet reflection, he attempted to laugh it off with a quip: “Championship managers, then.”

Misjudgements and Missed Opportunities

Individual mistakes have been numerous. One persistent error was the claim that Portugal were the only team not to have conceded a goal in the group stage. Editorial decisions have been just as poor. Every preview of the Netherlands felt contractually obliged to reference “total football,” a comparison that bore no relation to their style of play in this tournament. The desperation for an authentic African voice led to the hiring of Emanuel Adebayor, while the BBC’s highlights programme misused Craig Johnston. He had genuinely interesting points to make about the controversial Jabulani ball but was sidelined in favour of tired comedy slots like “Thatch of the Day.”

Perhaps the worst example was the BBC’s preview of the Brazil versus Portugal group match. A quick look at the group table, or indeed the team sheets, would have suggested a cautious affair was likely. Yet the panel, led by Gary Lineker, built the game up as a festival of attacking football. This analysis appeared to be based on a combination of Brazil in 1970, Portugal in 1966, and twenty minutes against a weary North Korea. After hyping the match relentlessly, Lineker’s scripted line suggested viewers should sue if it was not a thriller. By half-time, many might have felt they had a case, but not against the players.

A brief comment from Jurgen Klinsmann exposed the gulf in professionalism. While Alan Shearer and the regular BBC panel engaged in ill-informed speculation about Fernando Torres’s form, Klinsmann joined the conversation and began, “When I spoke to Torres earlier…” It was a simple demonstration of basic journalistic practice that put the others to shame.

The Robbie Earle ticket touting story revealed his punditry salary to be £175,000 per year. One can only guess what his more famous colleagues earn, but it is safe to assume it is not minimum wage. For that kind of money, viewers have a right to expect a great deal more than what was served up over the last month.