2002 World Cup
Univision

At first blush, the announcers of Univision's live World Cup telecasts have little to offer the non-Spanish-speaking American soccer fan. I, for one, was crushed when I realized that many live World Cup matches would be carried only on America's most watched Spanish-language television network. Nonetheless, as one of the loudest critics of NBC's tape-delayed Olympics coverage, I felt bound to taking in a match or 20 of the world's most widely watched sporting event.

Yet amazingly enough, Univision's playcallers have thus far outperformed their counterparts over at ESPN, which is broadcasting some World Cup matches live while tape-delaying others. For whatever reason, the network's English-language announcers often sound bored when they're covering the match, and, unfortunately, their boredom doesn't always marry up with what's happening on the field.

The Univision announcers' engagement, however, generally corresponds with the flow of the game. During an injury stoppage or a throw-in, they're as subdued as can be. But as a team's midfielders and strikers are blazing down the field, setting up a shot on goal, the play-by-play is furiously frenetic.

The Spanish speakers' staccato playcalling resembles the clicking of a Geiger counter or a metal detector, growing louder and more machine-gun-like as an attacking offense moves in for a shot. For whatever reason, though, the English speakers don't do this. Their yelling and carrying on nearly always comes after the goal, or if you're lucky, at the moment a goal-to-be is kicked. And they don't even partake in the otherwise culturally universal phenomenon of yelling "Gooooooool!" after a score. Even though that cry has become something of a cliché, it's bizarre not to hear it. It's like seeing a '70s film where the characters don't light up after having sex.

As critics of soccer will point out (typically more than once), the game has long stretches where not much happens. Teams get an early lead and conservatively pass the ball around in hopes of protecting said lead. Following a drop kick by the goalie, the ball can be headed around at midfield for what seems like an eternity before a player actually puts a foot on the ball and gets things moving. It's these slow moments that make Univision's announcers more useful than ESPN's. When the Spanish speakers pick up the pace and the volume, it's an auditory cue to stop reading your newspaper, balancing your checking account or writing your article. It's a Spanish wake-up call.

The ESPN announcers' lack of with-it-ness likely has its root in American sportscasting's coverage of the four major American sports — football, baseball, basketball and hockey. Those four games by their very nature require sportscasters to be much more reactive to what's happening on the field — while an announcer of American football can scream, "He's at the 40, the 30, the 20, the 10... touchdown!" viewers at home have to wait for replay to see the key block that sprung the play. Similarly, Marv Albert cannot say, "Stop reading — Kobe Bryant is about to throw down a sweet dunk off a Derek Fisher miss!"

Only hockey, whose set-up is most like soccer, has anything resembling soccer's predictability. But the sport will always be marred by thuggish fighting. What's more, its considerably smaller field of play and generally quick development mean it's best to keep watching at all times rather than be caught napping.

Not to mention that every now and then, the Univision sportscasters drop an English phrase or two, a guaranteed pick-me-up to anyone watching at home. When an announcer early Sunday morning referred to English midfielder David Beckham as "Spice Man," it cracked me up, simply because those were the first words I'd understood of the whole telecast.

And there's something about those Verizon wireless commercials they show at halftime, where the Verizon line tester guy wanders around with a cellphone asking what I can only assume is Spanish for "Can you hear me now?" before answering with one of the few Spanish words I know: "Bien."

— Eric Wittmershaus (ericw at flakmag dot com)