LemSkroob: Too bad his cable car's wire didn't snap and sending it careening down the hill towards the harbor, slamming into a class of 4th graders on a field trip before breaking through the guardrails and into the water.

...with McCarver doing the play-by-play.

Too bad his cable car's wire didn't snap and sending it careening down the hill towards the harbor, slamming into a class of 4th graders on a field trip before breaking through the guardrails and into the water.

LesserEvil: Paging NakedReporta and his soaking shoes...

funk_soul_bubby: So he peed in both shoes?

Cyberluddite: He is to baseball announcing as Mitt Romney is to politics--an untalented, privileged prick who got where he is solely because of the luck of being born the son of a famous and much more talented dad. I'm not surprised that he pissed in a Farker's shoes just to be an asshole.

Sorry I'm late to the party. Enjoy.

Apply directly to forehead in the event of a Joe Buck article:

Joe Buck Pissed In My Shoes
a short narrative by NakedReporta

Back when I was 11 and living in St. Louis, my parents decided I was too smart to be wasting my time in public schools and started seeking out private schools. The choice was eventually narrowed to two: John Burroughs and Country Day. I took the admittance test for each, but a kid I really hated from the public school I had attended was also trying to get into Burroughs, so I tanked that test.

Come fall, I was a seventh-grader at St. Louis Country Day School (known as CODASCO for short), whose famous alums include Vincent Price and John Danforth. And so began a year of sheer living hell. Most of the kids at CODASCO came from monied families, while I was this socially inept middle-class kid who wore the same Sears-bought suit every day. I was an immediate target.

One of my classmates was Joe Buck, the son of legendary Cardinals announcer Jack Buck. Joe was kind of a big, fat kid, but he had all the airs of social entitlement. Typical of the kind of stupid crap Buck would pull on me was to ask me if I "knew" my mother or to mock my attire. On more than one occasion, he was one of the ringleaders as five or six kids would decide to simultaneously throttle me.

But the final indignity came on a spring afternoon when we had gym class. We all changed into our standard-issue t-shirts and shorts and trotted out to the baseball field. All, that is, except Joe Buck, who bolted out of the locker room about a minute behind the rest. And when gym period was over, and we returned to the locker room, there were my Docksides-knockoff loafers, filled with the acrid stench of urine. Buck denied it, and the gym teacher didn't really give a shiat.

I had to wear my gym sneakers the rest of the day, then tearfully explain to my parents what had happened. They decided to press the issue, and it culminated in Joe and his mom and my mother and I all meeting with the headmaster. Joe denied it, I couldn't prove it, and the headmaster made us shake hands. I knew the remaining months were only going to be worse. The group beatings and mockery intensified. I barely passed my way through the seventh grade, and the next year I was back in public school. The torment continued -- hey, I was a real dork -- but at least it was free.

Look, kids can do cruel things. Joe was looking to be one of the guys, and I was an easy mark. He couldn't have any idea that my home life was simultaneously crumbling, and that what could have been a respite (time in school, away from home) was instead just compounding my nightmare. I suppose I should forgive the guy. But I can't.

I've managed to slog through a pretty respectable career as a writer. Joe, with his family ties and -- even I have to admit -- considerable talent, is the voice of FOX Sports. And every time I watch a marquee sporting event on FOX, I can't help but pause and reflect that, all those many years ago, that prick pissed in my shoes.

LemSkroob: IAmRight: LemSkroob: Too bad his cable car's wire didn't snap and sending it careening down the hill towards the harbor, slamming into a class of 4th graders on a field trip before breaking through the guardrails and into the water.

I find this offensive only because you randomly needed 4th graders to get hit. Can't they just watch as he goes by and cheer?

Not random at all. This way, whenever someone thinks of Joe Buck, they also think of all those 4th graders that died at the same time. Then, Joe Buck would be forever associated with a horrific tragedy.

He is. Every week.

Mrtraveler01: when they're not making typos on the graphics of course:

I'm pretty sure the graphics folks at TBS are always drunk.

bglove25: I think what I most miss is the John Smoltz, Cal Ripken pairing in the NY-Bal. series. That was awesome, two smart, personable players informing the audience and each other. Great stuff.

Yeah, nothing like a Yankee-hater and a former Oriole calling Yanks-Os.

whizbangthedirtfarmer: born_yesterday: I want Monday Night Football to go back to a three announcer format.

I want Joe Buck.

I want Jon Gruden.

I want Chris Berman.

No one has died just from watching a football game. Not yet.

Add Dennis Miller in there with Rush Limbaugh on pregame commentary, and you'll wipe out a few states' worth of people.

Please add Michael Kay. My mute button would end up in China because of how hard I slammed it down.