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Monday, October 14, 2002

One minute after 1 p.m. yesterday, a familiar face graced our television screens. Beasley Reece, my man. I know what you were thinking.

Too easy.

Today's column comes not to bury Reece. For the record, he did a commendable job on CBS' Steelers-Bengals broadcast, under the circumstances. And that's what this column comes to bury: the circumstances attendant to the position of network sideline reporter.

1:01 p.m., down to Reece for the first of probably what was an NFL-record nine sideline reports (the game was that bad). He referred to the Steelers' Tommy Maddox as having been "deleted." Talk about a comeback -- from erasure. Guess you can find him under Recently Deleted Male.

Andy Rooney brought the sideline reporter into national focus last week. The resident crank on CBS' "60 Minutes," he remarked on Boomer Esiason's Madison Square Garden Network show that women had no business reporting from an NFL field -- just the sort of enlightened viewpoint we should expect from an 83-year-old humbug. Whether Rooney was trying to be sexist or comedic, his point went wide left.

The job is problematic for any gender.

1:27 p.m. Turnovers are "the biggest stat of all," Reece tells us. The next play, Jon Kitna promptly threw an interception, the first of three consecutive turnovers on the next three Cincinnati possessions. To put this into Reecian terms, his remark showed a great prescience of mind.

See, sideline reporter is an oxymoron. These TV types aren't allowed to report. NFL folks got their boxers in a bunch last year when Fox's Pam Oliver and Chicago radio guy Mike Adamle had the audacity to inform their audiences of a news event they just witnessed on the sideline: Bears defensive players arguing vociferously with Oakmont native and Bears offensive coordinator John Shoop. No, no, no, Pam and Mike, you're only permitted by league rules to release information that has been filtered through on-site PR staffs.

The NFL slightly liberalized the job a couple of years ago when it granted sideline interviews with injured players and a shade more access. Still, the sideline remains a controlled atmosphere. Which explains why injury reports take so long to divulge, why so many sideline chats are either dressed-up features or analyses.

College football is the same way, particularly when the game broadcast involves teams such as Penn State that refuse to release injury information. Fox uses dugout reporters in baseball, but never puts them on the air unless they have gleaned real news.

Halftime. "Coach," Reece opened his exit interview with the Bengals' Dick LeBeau, "I know you have a lot to fix."

Coach interviews are the only other pertinent live information a sideline reporter can offer. But what pertinent live information do you expect a paranoid coach to give on TV? Hey, the other team might be watching.

3:40 p.m. Reece spoke of "feeding" Plaxico Burress a steady diet of passes. "You're right, Beez," color commentator Randy Cross remarked for a third time. And Reece was, as right as a sideline reporter can be.

Back up to you guys.

Remote notes

Esiason has to stow his Cincinnati No. 7 jersey after losing his Steelers-Bengals bet with CBS' Deion Sanders, who now gets to design a suit for his fellow "NFL Today" analyst to wear next Sunday.

Might I suggest, Mr. Neon, something in those lovely black-on-orange stripes?

CBS missed the Bengals' first onside kick because it was late coming out of a promotional spot. Bad form.

Cross was pretty entertaining on the Steelers-Bengals broadcast. He blistered the Cincinnati club several times. My favorite was a camera shot of a sullen Bengals player, accompanied by Kevin Harlan's remark about that being "the look of despair." "Nah," Cross replied, "just a Bengal."

As for the Steelers, Cross dissed their kickoff work: "I mean, the Steelers can kick it out of bounds and not lose any yardage. Why waste the effort of running down there? Give it to them on the 40."