There were nearly as many reporters covering the Superbowl yesterday as there were players on each team. Shoot, they even had Keith Olbermann on the sidelines. But of course, dominating commentary and onscreen as much as possible is everybody’s favorite Why-The-Hell-Is-This-Guy-Still-On-TV, John Freakin’ Madden. I can never figure him out. Homeboy was a twenty first round draft pick. In 1958. He played only one year pro. Granted, he was a great coach and well deserves the recognition he’s received. But he’s no Chick Hearn. He’s definitely no Vin Scully. Yet he’s had a job for just years as a color commentator. He’s been around forever because . . . he’s been around forever.

John Madden is the 90-year-old grandpa of sportscasters who smells like pee, awkwardly kills conversation with comments that just can’t be responded to, and babbles utter nonsense that those around him are obligated to pretend are profound and insightful statements. No matter how irrelevant the factoid, no matter how painfully obvious the reflection, and no matter how idiotic the choice of words, he’s untouchable. I’m able to put up with him only because of the fact that he’s not abrasive or off-putting. He’s just kind of there. When he goes “BAR BAR DE GAR YAR” I can just kind of nod my head and go, “yeah, that’s right grampa.”

Tangent: Now Bill Walton . . . that guy pisses me off. I don’t know how many doobies Walton’s rolled at all those Grateful Dead concerts he’s been to over the years, but he certainly shouldn’t punish me with his inane gibberish that seems to pass as basketball commentary. He’s got more catch phrases than a Jim Carrey movie and makes more use of hyperbole than a teenage girl explaining how unfair it is that she just got grounded. I have actually watched entire Lakers games with the volume all the way down just to avoid hearing the sound of his voice.

Where was I? Oh yeah . . . John Madden. Yup, he’s still sitting in the electric wheelchair over in the corner babbling to himself. Or maybe recording more lines for NFL 2010. I can’t tell anymore. Anyway. Maybe it’s the fact that color commentators aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed that ultimately makes them memorable. Some people in the news are remembered for their flawless delivery, like Vin Scully, or for their homespun sincerity, like Walter Cronkite. But others . . . are just dumb as a box of rocks. But I guess we like those guys too. Maybe it’s because we love tradition. Maybe it’s because guys like Madden can make Joe Six Pack feel just a little bit smarter during the Big Game. Or maybe it’s that the only smarts he had he used up to hire some really freakin’ good lawyers to negotiate his contracts.

Ah, the mysteries of the universe.