It's hard to screw up the NFL these days. It's like the Teflon league.
Even television networks can't sully its appeal. They've crammed 1,000 commercials into every game -- you could knit a sweater in the ad time between the kick-off and the next offensive play from scrimmage. They've dumbed down the coverage, ignored the fans that wager on the games, and mucked up the screen with so many graphics it's like FOX News Channel on acid. And why do networks keep putting Boomer Esiason behind a microphone? Is someone trying to put NyQuil out of the tranquilizing business?
But we, as football fans, don't care. The NFL is an old friend, an annual rite, a borderline religion, like Scientology, but without all the celebrity friends. Because even though the NFL flaunts its Hollywood star power like most Bears fans flaunt their love handles, football is still about you, the boys, a bucket of wings, a few 12-packs of domestic, and the largest television set in the neighborhood every Sunday.
It takes a lot to screw up football. And there's no time like the dawn of Week 1 to remember how ABC managed to do it at the dawn of the millennium.
The worst disaster in the history sports television could only be born of great potential. In 1999, Dan Dierdorf parted ways with "Monday Night Football," leaving former NFL quarterback Boomer Esiason (yep, him again) and play-by-play veteran Al Michaels in the booth. What appeared to be addition by subtraction turned out to be a recipe for disaster: Michaels and Boomer seemed about as comfortable as a squirrel trying to cross I-95.
Esiason left "MNF" after the season, with the ratings in a nosedive. Executive producer Don Ohlmeyer -- who had a hand in the show's success during its Howard Cosell-starring glory years -- promised a major overhaul.
In June 2000, he announced the addition of college football analyst (and ex-NFL quarterback) Dan Fouts and comedian Dennis Miller to the "Monday Night" team.
Miller had become, in the years following his stint doing "Weekend Update" on "Saturday Night Live," one of the top political humorists in the country on his HBO talk show and as a stand-up comedian. He beat out conservative radio host Rush Limbaugh for the "Monday Night" job, depriving us -- for three years -- Rush's views on how the media protects and coddles black quarterbacks. (Or maybe those were just the pills talking on ESPN in 2003?)
Ohlmeyer clearly saw this as an updated version of the greatest "MNF" team of all-time, with Michaels as Keith Jackson, Fouts as Don Meredith, and Miller as a more controllable Cosell. "I think, with this trio, we'll provide a telecast that will be relevant to football experts, accessible to occasional fans, and unpredictable for both," Ohlmeyer told the press.
What turned out to be unpredictable was how immensely the Michael-Fouts-Miller team would flop.
Miller -- while a brilliant comedian in his element -- was about as well-suited for a primetime football broadcast as Carrot Top would have been discussing the socio-economic landscape of Senegal on "Face the Nation."
Two problems. First, Ohlmeyer didn't want Miller's political humor to alienate any viewers, so he ordered it kept to a minimum, which is like telling Tom Jones to sing soprano. It also didn't help that Miller really didn't know all that much about football to begin with.
Second, because "MNF" is on ABC, Miller couldn't use the colorful language he masterfully applied on cable television. To paraphrase Jean Shepherd from A Christmas Story, Miller used obscenities like some artists used oil or clay. It was his true medium.
One could say Miller was also too smart for the room. But how smart could he have been not to know before taking the job that Sylvia Plath references wouldn't fly with an audience that still giggles at the name "Marion Butts?"
So Miller was a bust. But at least you noticed he was there, unlike the pseudo-analytical nothing we Earthlings called "Dan Fouts."
He was invisible, every game. Sure, you'd hear a low rumble now and again ("hmmmmmm ... Chargers ... hmmmmmmmm"), but Fouts never increased his decibels over mouse-fart levels at any point in the season.
The most accurate measure of this catastrophe was Al Michaels' performance during the Miller-Fouts run in the booth. He was awful, but could you blame him? How hard must it have been to spout off another "do you believe in miracles" when you're stuck in a room with a mute on your right and a guy comparing Bill Walsh to Vladimir Kosma Zworykin (inventor of the kinescope, for the Miller-impaired) on your left.
Ratings continued to fall, viewers hated the booth, and in 2002, the Miller-Fouts era came to an unceremonious end. John Madden, the best color commentator in the business, was hired away from FOX to join Michaels. Ratings began to rebound the next season.
Fouts went on to become ABC's lead color man for its NCAA coverage.
Miller became a Republican shill and got another talk show, this time on CNBC, whose ratings make the XFL look like the "Who shot J.R.?" episode of "Dallas."
"Monday Night Football?" Still the best thing about Monday nights not named Raymond or RAW.
Greg Wyshynski is also a weekly columnist for SportsFan Magazine. His columns appear every Saturday on Sports Central. You can e-mail Greg at [email protected].
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