Clive Tyldesley: ‘I might be crap but I’m not biased; you are.’

Football commentary is more difficult than brain surgery; it is even a little trickier than rocket science.

Everybody knows and accepts they can’t do the most specialist jobs on the planet but everyone thinks they could be a football commentator.

Whenever a commentator annoys you to the point of venting that anger in an abusive social media rant, the default post is that we are all biased and one-eyed. I’m sorry to disappoint you but commentators invariably care far, far less about the outcome of the game than you do.

You see, you’re all a bit mad when you are watching football on the telly.

That madness is the very wonderful thing that gives me a living. You don’t need a running commentary when you are making pancakes or making love but, for some reason, there is always a soundtrack to a televised football match. Perhaps you just require someone handy to swear at. It brings out the Arne Slot in you.

Disagreement is rife in football. We say it’s a game of opinions but those opinions are usually divided by deep-cut loyalties and allegiances. We support our teams with a devotion we sometimes find difficult to replicate to our loved ones. Take my wife but don’t take our centre-forward.

If a religion or a political party could mobilise the same constancy and commitment we swear to our favourite football club, it would be a powerful and dangerous force. Make Arsenal great again. Fans have a blinkered permission to call their own not fit to burn but let a pundit or commentator dare question the signing of Jakub Kiwior and it’s seen as a declaration of war.

And there’s more. Football further clouds your judgment to the point that any praise for an opponent can be seen as equally disrespectful and unforgivable. According to my ‘@ mentions’, it is often clear evidence that I want to elope and have children with the player I’ve just given a passing verbal tick to.

You need to take sides in football. If you are with them, you are against us.

You can sign up for Clive’s Substack here. You won’t regret it.

Irrationality and delusion are the rich fuels of football fandom. They keep me in work. Neutrality is officially a requirement of the job but the strength of feelings that football promotes soon drowns out any strains of reason and perspective I might find. There is no place for either in the game that we love like a stalker.

Tyldesley is obviously a Liverpool/United/Rangers/Tranmere fan. Delete where not appropriate to your current hysteria.

Last night, this Liverpool/PSG fan was trying to engage his supposedly unbiased mind to the contradictions of the Champions League game at the Parc des Princes for an American audience on CBS Sports.

Question: When does a bit of a doing become a classic away performance in Europe?

Answer: The moment Harvey Elliott scores.

In that pregnant second when he opened up his body to do his best Mohamed Salah impersonation and aim his first kick of the night at posterity, Liverpool’s entire display graduated from fortunate to mature. In an instant, Arne Slot had outwitted Luis Enrique with a masterclass of strategy and substitutions. Gotcha!

Except that’s not really what happened, is it?

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A wise manager once said to me that football is played from the first whistle to the last, then analysed from the last whistle back to the first. It’s easy to work out ‘whodunnit’ when you’ve already seen the ending. Hindsight is for the golf club bore.

The commentators have to play Columbo and try to consider the evidence as it unfolds scene-by-scene. Some of us may sound like we are thinking out loud (hence my stated suspicion of conversational commentary), but the best of us are constantly watching, reviewing and assessing the various exhibits and trying to choose words that punctuate the action with a developing narrative.

That’s the job for me, Clive. The job and my ability to do it are what I care about. I don’t mind who wins as long as we capture and reflect what you are seeing with us. I might be crap but I’m not biased; you are.

You are the jury and we are trying to lead you. We are not always certain exactly where, but we are trying to figure out the sharp contours and contradictions of every football match ever played… and as it’s played.

A few studied observations, the occasional rhetorical question, an actual and direct question to the former player alongside me if a lull allows. Building drama into a commentary is about attempting to build a picture of where the game may be heading. You probably already know where you want that to be.

When I first joined ITV in 1996, they were establishing themselves as the Champions League channel. It was an era in which a British team won a swell of British support, when Brian Moore could champion a goal for Arsenal or Manchester United as a goal for ‘us’. Football affiliations don’t work like that anymore.

A late winner for Liverpool on foreign soil is not a cause for national celebration and the commentators on national television have to be aware and wary of that. It might be good for their bosses, it might even have a knock-on value to some of their rivals in terms of UEFA coefficients and the like but there were no street parties in Manchester last night.

The commentators are caught in the social media crossfire. Damned if they do sound pleased, eternally damned if they don’t.

“Liverpool have thieved a lead,” was my own initial outpouring last night. “It’s a robbery really but it’s a glorious heist.” I shudder to think how that might have been received by parts of a British television audience but that is the jeopardy of the job now. Invective and insults are occupational hazards but they are only a function of what football does to us.

And it’s what football does to us that creates the demand for football commentary.

I monitor my feeds for any recurring themes but any vitriol only lasts for the duration of the game. Once the players disappear back down the tunnel, the grouses and gripes all disappear with them. Each of you returns to 37 degrees…until tonight when the studio presenter says, “and your commentators for this one are…”

Cue the memes.

Anyone can be a football commentator. I never forget that and how lucky I am to be able to drive you mad.

You can sign up for Clive’s Substack here. You won’t regret it.