It’s That Bad, Now: We’re Officially Muting Berman

Every single minute of this Cowboys-Eagles telecast is pheonomenal, and we’re just starting the second half.

Wait, let us take that back for just a second. Every moment except for the five minutes when Chris Berman popped his mug up on my television screen during halftime.

Honestly, we’re done bitching about this (after tonight). We’re pretty embarrassed actually, because this is at least the third time we’ve had one of these “enough” reactions with Berman since we started this blog. But, really. Enough is enough.

I appreciate Berman’s contributions to the popularity of the NFL and ESPN as a network. He’s had an admirable run. When I was in junior high school, I really enjoyed the “could go all the way” calls and the occasional Drew Bledsoemuchheneededatransfusion reference. I was also 13-years old. At 31, my feelings differ.

I realize guys have their “schtick.” I get it. Mike and the Angry Puppy had theirs. Golic and Greenberg have a formula as well. And, at times, it gets intolerable. It’s almost impossible for it not to. But, for the most part, I don’t feel like these guys are completely “acting” for what they perceive as the sake of better television (or radio).

Not the case with Berman. Every word, gesture and comment seems completely theatrical. Each is aimed at getting a laugh or a rise or a…whatever. Here’s a novel concept. You’ve got five minutes to go through the highlights and make a few comments on the game? Just do it. Then get off the screen.

Until then, I will continue to do one thing when “Boomer” takes center stage — hit the mute button.

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About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.

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