I hit shock, skipped denial, went right on to anger, felt zero guilt, and now I'm somewhere between sadness and acceptance.
Yes, Chris Singleton is here to stay, but the Chicago Tribune got the headline right when it said "
Sox settle for Singleton." That I can't be happy about.
Not only is the hiring of Singleton a major downgrade in terms of experience when it comes to replacing John Rooney, but it's a continuation of the evaluation methods that were the root cause of the giant mistake the Sox made when picking a TV broadcaster to replace Tom Paciorek years ago. When replacing a fan favorite, the Sox organization is loyal and they're cheap, opting for inexperienced nice guys over broadcasters with some gravitas.
I'd like to be as optimistic as my friend Vince at
Exile in Wrigleyville is -- or at least as patient -- but there are just too many similarities to the Jackson situation to drive me nuts. Let's break it down:
BEFORE THE TRANSITION
Television: Ken Harrelson and Tom Paciorek were a popular broadcasting duo better known as Hawk and Wimpy. They split the airtime evenly, and their personalities mixed well. There was Harrelson, the big-talking Southerner, and Paciorek, the wiseass from Detroit. Harrelson came up with the catch phrases, the nicknames, and the signature home-run call, whereas Paciorek provided solid analysis and the comic relief.
When Harrelson got carried away, Paciorek could needle him back to the game action. When the game got out of hand, they both could tell stories and use their counterpart as the butt of jokes.
Radio: John Rooney had been in the Sox broadcast booth for 18 years, and partners with Ed Farmer for 15. They sounded like best friends more than co-workers, finishing each other's sentences, play the straight man to the other's joker, trying together to remember an actor's name, and telling each other how they slept the previous night. Rooney was the consummate play-by-play man, a voice for all seasons; Farmer, a cantankerous crank who you have to get to know before you can like him; then his bitter uncle ways are somewhat endearing.
They might've ridden the umps too much, but their comfort level provided one of the smoothest broadcasts in baseball -- USA Today rated them the best in the business last season -- and it was perfect for the long 174-game season.
THE REPLACEMENT
Television: When Paciorek left, the Sox replaced him with Darrin Jackson, who had no broadcasting experience but played two seasons for the White Sox. He was a journeyman outfielder with some power but little plate patience; he had the reputation of being a nice guy.
Radio: When Rooney left, the Sox replaced him with Chris Singleton, who had no broadcasting experience but played three seasons for the White Sox. He was a journeyman outfielder with some power but little plate patience; he had the reputation of being a nice guy.
THE RESULT
Television: Darrin Jackson was painful to watch, painful to listen to. Still is, to a fairly significant degree. He introduces himself and the ballgame with a glazed look during the pre-game comments, stumbles over words, puts together sentences that aren't sentences, preaches the obvious, expounds on the already wrong.
It seems like he's been around long enough to where he now gets a free pass from those in a place to criticize him, but I don't see a lot of improvement. He's a bit smoother, but not necessarily more interesting. He still is all too eager to parrot Hawk's sentiments, and he hasn't shaken my suspicion that he's really the Hawk's ventriliquist dummy. "I luuuuv e-mail too, Hawk. This rookie pitcher is really a Cy Young candidate, Hawk." The California native has even developed a southern twang, though that could be because he's trying too hard to be folksy.
Radio: To be determined.
I'm highly skeptical of this arrangement because a lot of the same factors are in place. Like Harrelson, Farmer is highly opinionated, pro-Sox to a fault (though he doesn't hesitate to criticize when they screw up), and will wander off on tangents of tangents. And like Harrelson, Farmer had just been working with a partner who knew how to nullify his weakest qualities as a broadcaster, and will now be working with somebody unfamiliar with the way things work.
And while Farmer is leaps and bounds more tolerable by himself, the medium poses a bigger problem for fresh meat. I've learned to tune out Hawk and DJ -- I can focus on the ballgame and draw my own conclusions without turning it on mute. It helps that TV broadcasters don't have to talk. They can let the pictures explain themselves when there's nothing more to say about it.
That's not the case with radio -- listeners have to hang on every word, especially when the unusual happens. Broadcasters have to be talking so those tuning in won't think there are technical difficulties, and so they don't bore those who have been listening. Dedicated listeners depend on these guys for three hours a day 162 times or more per year.
If a TV guy is new, he has the option of not talking. He can take silence to uncomfortable levels, but it beats stuttering, stumbling and blathering 100 times out of 100. Radio guys don't have that safety net, and
their services have a far greater impact than those of broadcasters on the tube (or plasma).
I don't want Singleton to fail. Even with the Extra Innings package on digital cable, I'm going to be listening to a number of games over Gameday Audio, and I'm going to cross my fingers that the experience is half as enjoyable as it was day in and day out last year.
But I have a sinking feeling that Singleton will sink. There's a lot riding on this -- a surge of new fans from the World Series flocking to a new flagship radio station means that Singleton will have to make a near-instantaneous impact, and I don't think that's going to happen. It's too much, too soon for somebody who's too inexperienced even if Farmer tones down the Uncle Ed and colors within the lines.
In this case, I welcome Singleton to make me eat my words.