Bob Kobacher was a very odd cat. Many families have a fellow like Bob rattling about somewhere. Bob was present at each family gathering: Thanksgiving, Christmas, weddings. He was always there, though no one understood why. Bob’s relationship to our family and exactly who Bob was is still unclear. Bob wore mismatched socks and pants that were always short, revealing ivory white legs. But it was Bob’s distinctive voice — high-pitched and squeaky, like when you suck on a helium balloon — that’s important to this story. On the long ride down to Grandma’s house, Cornpecker’s potential presence was always discussed. This renaming of people — an early bad habit — gets me in trouble to this day. The moniker Cornpecker became so deeply ingrained in family lore that my Dad unwittingly once gregariously greeted Bob with a backslapping, “Hello, Cornpecker!”
Already, only a paragraph gone, I’ve digressed. This is about talk radio … not the modern phenomenon, it might appear. It was popular back in the early Sixties. Which brings us back to Bob Kobacher. One Sunday we were all in the car, driving in from the north suburbs, when Bob’s singular voice erupted from the radio. This caused great excitement in the back seat. Dad instinctively swiped behind him, hoping to hit something, as he hushed us and turned up the radio. It was Bob, all right, chatting amiably with the host about the Cubs as our Pontiac roared through downtown Chicago in an unusual state of rapturous silence. For the first time, I became aware of the existence of sports talk radio.
With characters like Bob out there, it’s a wonder the sports radio format took so long to take hold. WFAN in New York made its debut in 1987 as the first all-day, all-sports station. Somebody in New York realized that the interests of the huge 25-54 male audience were changing. We were getting married. Having kids. Going to work instead of lying stoned on the couch all day. Sports talk was perfect. Thirteen years later it’s ubiquitous. The format — cheap and easy to produce — hasn’t changed much: a host in the studio fielding calls from guys like Cornpecker griping about who’s batting cleanup for the Sox, or from concerned bettors trying to get some inside info on a left tackle’s pulled groin.
And then there was one … When I began working on this a month ago, intending to rate each locally heard sports talk show, Austin had two all-sports stations, KVET’s The Zone and KFON. In addition, KJFK had a three-hour sports show from 5-8pm, and KLBJ’s long running Sportstalk ran from 6-8pm. When I looked at the Arbitrons for men, 25-54, I prayed KFON (the station I listened to the most) could hang on for a few weeks. Literally no one, except me, listened to KFON. The station didn’t even show up in the latest Arbitrons. With a zero rating, it wasn’t a shock to see KFON go all-Spanish. Last week I tuned in to Clendon Ross’ program on KJFK, to be met with “The Hill,” a mellow, classic rock format. In two weeks, the sports talk listings were cut in half. Only The Zone remains standing.
Undeterred, I carry on. Some nationally syndicated programs from KFON have already reappeared at The Zone. I’m going to rate each nationally syndicated show (past or present) on a 1-10 scale. As for local programming, I’ll forgo the numerical ranking and leave it with a few comments. Generally, I don’t like local programming, in Austin or New York. Not here. Not there. Not anywhere. Why? Because it’s local. In Austin it’s Longhorn football, 24-7, 365 days a year. Spurs playing a game seven tonight? That’s nice, but 95% of the callers will want to talk about spring football. The Longhorns advance into the Sweet 16? That’s nice too, but how’s recruiting going? It’s mind-numbing.
(My interest in national shows, according to the experts, is unusual. A schedule loaded with national shows is a station about to run into a train. RIP KFON. The real power is local programming. The ideal program mix — which The Zone now has — is local shows in the busy and profitable drive times, with national programming filling in the mid-day gaps.)
The only local guy I’ll search for is Jeff Ward who, exhausted from populist right wing ranting on his own issues-oriented show, sometimes sits in with Ed Clements on Sportstalk. When talking sports, Ward combines all the elements for my short-term entertainment. He’s smart, funny, scathingly sarcastic, knowledgeable, and happy to insult idiot callers, who often don’t know they’re being insulted. He’s the only guy on local radio unafraid of the all-powerful UT Athletic Dept. That alone wins big points from me. If it should ever all go to hell for Mack Brown, Ward will be the first on-air guy to say so, probably by two years.
One of the reasons Ward works for me is probably his limited exposure. At only an hour per day — max — he doesn’t get old. His partner, Ed Clements, has been around so long he probably took Bob Kobacher’s call in 1962. The same’s true with Longhorn broadcasters and talk show fixtures Bill Schoening and Craig Way over at The Zone. Do they tend to be a little soft on UT? You bet. Less soft on KLBJ, more on KVET. KVET, Bill and Craig need UT, KLBJ doesn’t. The broken and battered ship of a UT team will have to have sunk and started growing barnacles before any real criticism will come from KVET. The best example of this was in the Tom Penders mess, when the guys at KVET were still defending him after the rest of the media was reporting the real story. A story that Bill and Craig knew, better than most, was true. Austin is, at its heart, a company town.
I prefer the network shows because I’m a sports fan. I’m interested in the Clippers draft picks, Pedro Martinez, a bean ball incident in Chicago, Shaq and Kobe, a double homicide in Charlotte, and Steffi Graf. You won’t hear much of this on local shows, not because the hosts don’t know, but because the audience doesn’t care.
The Zone just picked up the king of the national shows, The Jim Rome Show. Rome’s “jungle” is a weird, cultish place. A first-time listener will have a hard time following Rome’s “smack.” It’s so filled with his invented terminology — smack’s a good opinion; The Jungle is his listeners; his listeners aren’t listeners but clones; Bugahaw is Omaha — that I don’t know what or whom he’s talking about half the time. Rome’s show is unique, but I have some serious problems with it. The mantra of the Jungle is, “Have a take, don’t suck.” Rome repeats this 10 times an hour. Another mantra is “More of me (Rome) and less of you (clones) is good.” This is true. Rome’s takes (another Romism) are the sharpest on the radio. Nobody’s safe. Nothing’s sacred. He can be venomous. His thoughts — he rarely strays from sports — are insightful, dead honest, and fearless. They’re great. I give Rome himself a 10. Unfortunately, his “more of me, less of you” thing is a self-fulfilling prophecy. He’s created an atmosphere where a clone can’t just talk to Rome. They must be mini-me’s, trying to deliver clever Rome-type monologues, usually filled with pandering “smack” that Rome will like. Very hard to do well. Rome’s show would be better if he talked to people. When Jim stops talking, I change the station.
Tony Kornheiser, on the ESPN Network, precedes Rome from 9-11. Tony and I started our talk radio careers on the same day. We can leave it at that. I tried to do (failing miserably) what Kornheiser does so well: a sports talk show that isn’t totally about sports, but is more urbane and clever than the guy-talk thing. Kornheiser, a self-effacing long-time sports writer for the Washington Post, knows his stuff. He never interviews athletes, preferring other sports writers. Excellent move. Has there ever been a compelling interview with an athlete? I’d rather hear Bob Ryan talk about the Patriots than Drew Bledsoe any day. His spontaneous banter with Dan (The Duke) Davis’ hourly sports updates can be hysterical. Tony rarely takes a telephone call. I give him a 9.
Another victim of the massacre at KFON was ESPN’s The Dan Patrick and Rob (Nasty Boy) Dibble Show. When KVET picked up Rome, Dan and Dibbs had to go. This show got off to a slow start last September as SportsCenter celebrity Patrick learned the different rhythm of radio. The show improved to the point that I could confidently tune in whenever one of Rome’s idiot clones got on the air. Dan gets a little too much into guy talk sometimes, but Patrick’s cosmopolitan wit keeps it on a fairly high level. Patrick will interview sports stars, but won’t ever ask them comfy “how they felt” questions. He’s more apt to inquire about Tony Gywnn’s favorite restaurant in Kansas City or ask John Elway why he won’t pick up the tab for Patrick’s dinner. Get an athlete off the familiar ground of clichés and they might accidentally say something interesting. Give Dan and Dibbs a 7.5.
More victims from the fall of KFON. I used to think Papa Joe Chevalier, holding down the prestigious drive-time slot on the One-on-One network, was the best. But the competition caught up to Papa. Papa Joe does no interviews and works alone … a tough thing to do. He’s clever, creative, and opinionated, but his opinions stayed the same, his conservative political views annoyed me and he just got old. Papa gets a 6. I can’t stand Nasty Nestor Aparicio, who holds down the dead time afternoons on the One-on-One network. His piercing, nasal voice annoys me. He’s gushingly polite to his callers — where the Nasty thing comes from I don’t know. He never has a provocative thing to say about anything or anyone. His interviews are softball competitions. Dull, inane show. Lousy radio. Can I give a negative number? The worst network stuff is reserved for the weekends. They always feature two guys who do nothing but go from stadium to stadium for tedious updates.
Clearly, I’ve become Bob Kobacher. It’s okay. Often my socks don’t match either. If only Bob knew I once had my own show, I might have had a caller. I am the sports talk demo: sick of hearing “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” but way too lazy to try new music. Austin’s not the better for only having one sports talk station. Another station with some strong local (but not UT-beholden) programming, glued together with quality national stuff, would be a good thing.
As they say in The Jungle: Out.
This article appears in September 22 • 2000.