Walk into any broadcast journalism class at any communications school nation- wide, and some middle-aged media mogul cut directly from the image of Edward R. Murrow will be preaching composure, stressing objectivity and emphasizing elocution. In other words, don't be Dick Vitale.
According to the cookie-cutter, Sportscaster 101 definition of the job, Vitale indisputably qualifies as the most appalling example of broadcasting that the vocation has to offer. He's spastic, ebullient, biased and a bit batty at times. In other words, he's a downright wacko.
And I love him for it.
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He yells more than Gary Williams, smiles more than Bozo the Clown and incorporates more inane exclamations into one broadcast than Dennis Miller does intellectual witticisms in a Monday Night Football taping. He is the last thing from telegenic. His zany gesticulations, over-the-top expressions and endless rants probably have Walter Cronkite reaching for the Kleenex.
Yet this wild man for whom the mute button was created has claimed the Curt Gowdy Media Award for broadcasting excellence, the American Broadcasting Association Award for TV personality of the year and a Cable Ace Award.
"How?" you might ask.
Because Dick Vitale may be the nicest man alive. He loves college basketball with undying zeal. He cares for every college athlete, coach, administrator and band member like they're his own children and isn't afraid to express that passion at the expense of a couple of grammatical errors.
He doesn't talk about the game. He is the game, and college basketball doesn't know how lucky it is to have him, even at the expense of people's long-term hearing.
College basketball is walking a tightrope, desperately clinging to the amateurism of its past while simultaneously selling itself to commercialism in the name of survival. Summer recruiting is a slimy mix of sketchy AAU coaches, greedy shoe companies, talent-hungry coaches and fame-thirsty teenagers.
Adolescents just out of the high school crib are bypassing college for the NBA at an alarming rate. Rumors are widespread that June's draft will likely include three young guns within the top 10 picks: Tyson Chandler, Eddy Curry and DeSagana Diop.
Boosters and undercover street agents are manipulating athletes out of their eligibility (see exhibit A: Auburn's Chris Porter).
Gambling on the games in college dorms has erupted.
With such negativity infecting a sport once thought immune to corruption's claws, the truth is evident: College basketball needs Dick Vitale more than ever. It needs his enthusiasm, his energy, his ardor. Most of all, it needs his voice.
Do the unthinkable, Dick. Talk louder.
Vitale may be the one man single-handedly saving the once-innocent sport from outright disaster. He counsels toddlers in hightops, advises high-schoolers with unattainable roundball dreams, writes books urging for reform and raises money for organizations related to college basketball through appearances and speaking engagements.
His zest is everlasting, his mission impregnable: Keep college basketball great.
Saturday afternoon, with nationally-ranked Missouri in town and ESPN2 in town with them, Vitale turned University Hall upside down. He high-fived "Hoos Your Daddy" fan club members, shook hands with every man, woman and child he crossed paths with, saluted every media member he encountered and made the pregnant clam the place to be once again. Sure, it was a big game, but a big game becomes an event when Vitale's in the house.
A marquee matchup becomes "awesome baby, with a capital 'A'" when Baldy's courtside.
So Dickie V, here's a lifetime invitation to Charlottesville and a request. Keep talking.
To tweak an expression invoked by your old buddy Jimmy Valvano: Don't shut up. Don't ever shut up.
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