Lessons learned

Sportscasting isn’t an easy profession. You’ve got to really learn how to laugh at yourself sometimes. Being on live television is always an adventure. You’re sure to be picked on, criticized or jeered outright.

Everyone I know who works on radio or television has had his share of bloopers and fumbles. I haven’t been exempt, not by any means. But it’s always been a learning experience, sometimes painfully so.

Perhaps the one who has most molded sports broadcasting language in the modern era is the late Joe Cantada. Smokin’ Joe began his career with DZHP in 1962, and immediately made an impact on broadcast speech for the next three decades.

Eventually, he made his way to becoming the voice of the Olympic Games in the Philippines, and painted his own colors into the way we do basketball and boxing, impressing the world as ring announcer of the "Thrilla in Manila." It was no coincidence that he gained popularity as the PBA also

ascended into prominence. Initially, there was some resistance to certain changes he made. Calling the basketball a spheroid took a while. But I’ll never forget how PBA commissioner Jun Bernardino read a thoughtfully prepared list of Joe’s contributions to our local sports lexicon at Cantada’s funeral. It was three pages long.

The late Pinggoy Pengson brought honor to the Philippines in the mid-1980’s when the term he coined for a close contest made it into the pages of Time Magazine. "Cardiac game" was roundly recognized as a stroke of genius.

One of a sportscaster’s dreams is to give a player a nickname or moniker that sticks and becomes part of the vocabulary. Such picturesque descriptions were Cantada’s staple, and he ran with the ball. Many of today’s classics like Robert "The Big J" Jaworski and "The Skywalker" Samboy Lim have been attributed to him.

The classic staple of the anchorman giving the analyst a chance to make a final statement was also made habit by Cantada. He would always courteously give his partner a "parting shot" before closing the game. Historically, the original term was "Parthian shot," an antagonistic comment made while one retreats or departs. In the olden days, Parthian archers would pretend to be retreating while releasing arrows into the air. The term was inevitably corrupted to its present form, but still fits.

Importing certain terms is acceptable, as long as we give the proper attribution. "On fire" and its variations are from ESPN’s vast list of terminologies.

In certain situations, it depends on who does it, and when. The phrase "How do you stay calm when the house is on fire?" is used to describe a team that is on the road and losing a lead. Columnist Recah Trinidad first used this during one of our many boxing coverages, but when this writer tried it for basketball, it became accepted.

When it comes to whimsical additions to sports speech, very few can compare to baseball manager Yogi Berra, whose turns of phrase always sounded funny, but strangely made sense. The most popular "it ain’t over ‘til it’s over," initially sounds shallow, but signifies the eternal presence of hope until the final bell rings. He also said things like "You can observe a lot by watching," which seems strangely appropriate in these short-attention span times.

Sometimes though, the only rules to follow are common sense.

Dan Patrick of ESPN once commented on a common but misplaced habit of exceedingly polite announcers after commercials.

"Don’t say ‘Welcome back.’ The audience didn’t go anywhere. YOU did!"

Makes sense, doesn’t it?