Vern Is Still My Guy

The best thing to me about the North Texas vs. Memphis opening-round game was not that UNT was in the tourney for just the second time in school histroy. It wasn't even that they represented themselves well, fought hard, and did some promising things on the court. (How's that for generic sports talk?)

The best thing about that game was Vern Lundquist. Once again, he reminded us all of why America's gain twenty-odd years ago (or was it thirty?) was DFW's loss. Some of us are grizzled enough to remember when the best sports anchor in this burg was really the best.
While his eventual replacement at WFAA, Dale Hansen, was patting himself on the back for being so much better than Scott "Sports-Cliche Machine-Gun" Murray, Lundquist was establishing himself as one of America's most reliable and endearing, though understated, national sports broadcasters.

Vern and Dale are polar opposites. Vern is unassuming. He doesn't constantly remind you who he is. He comes across as a friend. He is the kind of guy you want to see do well. Dale, on the other hand, comes across as a blow-hard, egocentric, overrated empty suit. Vern is a local legend; Dale is a legend in his own mind...not to mention a grown-up version of a middle-school brat. (See the recent incident where he gets pissed at John McCaa for stealing his thunder and shoots the wheels off the newscast.)

Don't get me wrong, here. Both have talent. Dale is an enormously talented communicator (at least on TV; he pretty much makes my ears bleed on the radio.) In fact, I used to listen to Dale exclusively during the 10 O'clock news hour. But then somewhere along the line, he started believing the numbers and the press. Dale decided that he was actually the story and whatever news he was delivering was a mere platform on which he could stand and shine for all the world (or at least DFW) to ogle.

Before NBC 5 finally grew a brain and put Scott Murray out to pasture, Dale used to love to compare himself to Murray, which was roughly the equivalent of a college professor laughing at a retarded kid after he kicked his ass in a spelling bee. Maybe all this time, Dale should have been comparing himself to his predecessor. Maybe, just maybe, if he had been half the professional Vern has been...half the gentleman...he would still have his gig as color analyst for the Cowboys, he never would have had the crap scared out of him in that famous shoulder-punching interview with Barry Switzer, and he wouldn't be so bitter.

In the meltdown mentioned a couple paragraphs ago, Dale asked, "Why am I here?"
Um, because Vern isn't? Because there is no justice in the world? Because Dallas is really Purgatory?

Your guess is as good as mine.