I want to take this final week in my first year as a columnist to honor a recent retiree from sports media. As I’ve grown up, he’s remained one of my favorite figures in football. What better way to say farewell to my year of sports than to discuss one of sports’ most familiar — but often misunderstood — icons, John Madden?
Last week, the longtime color commentator announced his retirement, effective immediately. I’ve gathered a pretty mixed vibe from fans and media in response to the announcement. I’ll admit, Madden’s legacy is a complicated one to understand, especially for younger audiences. In recent years, with experts arguing on ESPN nonstop and sports columns and blogs just a click away on the computer, the idea of analysis being something original and special is long gone. As a sports culture, we beat every topic to death and consider every possible angle of every situation.
A couple decades ago, though, color commentators were pretty much all you had besides just watching the game. A good commentator could provide some insight into the game, a peek into the lives of athletes, and add a bit of personality to the sea of jerseys on your television screen.
This is where Madden really shines. During his best moments, he has a homey charm that syncs well with football’s somewhat blue-collar identity and posseses a knack for telling good stories. The man has his foibles, but he’s ultimately a likable guy and a great speaker.
It’s his quirks and warmth that have caused the public to grow tired of him and somewhat turn against him, I believe. Sports analysis as a whole is constantly getting angrier, sharper and faster-paced, and Madden never adapted to these new standards.
Furthermore, a few of his mannerisms made him as infamous a commentator as he is famous. Picking on Madden’s verbal tics started to become popular around 2006 when comedian Frank Caliendo made famous an uncanny Madden impression and used it to poke fun at him.
As much as I like Madden, I can see why some of these eccentricities can be misinterpreted. For example, saying “The team that scores the most points wins the game” seems obvious and downright dopey. Madden might actually say something like this, though, when explaining a philosophy and an approach to the game: It’s not total yards or defensive interceptions or completion percentage that determines who wins the game; it’s points. A scrappy team that slugs out a few more points than a clean, efficient powerhouse — think Giants versus Patriots in Super Bowl XLII — is actually the more successful team.
And Madden’s fascination with Brett Favre, often chalked up to a man-crush, is actually the commentator recognizing — rightfully, I think — that Favre in his prime brought an exciting field presence that made the Packers always competitive and fun to watch.
What audiences — and, likely, Caliendo — fail to realize is that Madden has put on somewhat of a persona for us listeners. His reputation for using an odd and oafish way of speaking is something he has embraced and fleshed out. It makes him distinctive, marketable and memorable.
As it turns out, if I am to trust every description of encounters with Madden I’ve ever read, Madden is quite intelligent, personable and self-aware. Though sports fans from the outside like to criticize his comments as inane, he’s anything but, and was often regarded as one of the best-prepared and most knowledgeable commentators in the industry.
One part of Madden’s legacy that’s tricky to figure out is the role of the enormously popular line of video games named after him and published by Electronic Arts. The relationship between him and the series is an oddity of the video game business, one of only two celebrity endorsements for games that has had staying power in the market. The only other — Tony Hawk and his series of skateboarding games — looks like it’s on the way out, but Madden’s contract with EA isn’t going away.
The Madden video games have introduced millions to the commentator and given him an unprecedented icon status in the world of football. Sponsoring a video game series has helped elevate him into one of the premier symbols for the NFL, for better and worse for him.
As Madden settles into his retirement, the debate about his legacy and his worth as a commentator rages on. Perhaps we’re wasting breath and ink, though. Madden is the type of influence and perennial presence who transcends criticism. He’s changed so much about how the world looks at football, so subtly and gradually, that our attempts to quantify his success have no chance at hitting the mark.
Is Madden the greatest commentator in the history of football? The question has been asked by various TV and radio analysts the past few days, but it’s silly and impossible to answer. What’s certain is that Madden is highly influential and renowned, but also the rare icon who is underrated and underappreciated.
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