Guest Blog – Mark Oristano: A Sportscaster’s Guide to Watching Football
Tom Wolfe, one of America’s greatest writers (and snappiest dressers) once said that writers should write “what you know.” This is an interesting piece of advice, which may not always apply because, after all, Shakespeare never visited Italy. Romeo & Juliet? Merchant of Venice?
However, when I sat down to write my first book, I decided to heed Mr. Wolfe’s advice, and I wrote A SPORTSCASTER’S GUIDE TO WATCHING FOOTBALL. This was a natural outgrowth of my 30-year career in sports broadcasting, which included stints on the radio networks of both the Houston Oilers and Dallas Cowboys, as well as work for NFL Films, the Cowboys front office, and more.
Even though I had what I thought was a pretty good road-map as far as my outline was concerned, when I actually began the writing process, the most felicitous things began to happen. Not only was I writing what I knew. I began to write what I had forgotten. Story A, about a Cowboy quarterback, suddenly made me remember Story B, about an Oiler running back. Things began rushing back to me, some of which I hadn’t thought of in a generation or so. For example, this tale from my book, about Mike Barber, a tight end for Houston in the late 70’s.
How tough are pro football players? It’s really hard to understand. Until, and unless, you’ve had the chance to stand on the sidelines, you cannot understand the speed, violence, and intensity of the NFL game.
I once watched former Cowboys offensive lineman Nate Newton, all 360 pounds of him, playing table tennis. The guy moved like a ballet dancer—quick, graceful, catlike. Imagine what it must have felt like to have him get that mass going toward you for a clearing block.
During my time with the Houston Oilers, I had one experience that really drove it home for me. I was doing a post-game interview on the Oilers Radio Network with Mike Barber, a very tough tight end, who had taken quite a bit of punishment this game day. As we talked (on radio, where nobody could see us), Mike was cutting the tape off his ankles. (Football players have their ankles taped before a game for stability.) As he sliced the tape off one foot, I noticed that the sole of the foot was a brilliant purple from the heel to the place where the toes were attached. We ended the interview, and I unplugged my microphone.
“What happened to your foot?” I asked him, in a bit of disbelief.
“I tore a tendon in the bottom of it,” Barber answered matter-of-factly.
“Today?”
“No. Wednesday.”
“And you played today?”
“And I practiced all week.”
“How could you stand it?”
“Well, they take a big ol’ syringe, and they fill it up with Novocain, and they stick the needle right into the bottom of the foot. If you can take the pain of the needle, playing is easy.”
“But doesn’t that make your whole foot numb?”
“Up to the knee.”
“How can you run?”
“Hey…they don’t pay me to sit on the bench!”
I told you it was a different world.
And will I continue to write what I know? Yes. What I’m writing next, I haven’t known as long as I’ve known pro football. I’ll give you a hint, though. I’ve spent the last two months watching open heart surgeries.
