Walker’s rare gifts would be lost today
When Murray Walker appeared on Pointless Celebrities in 2015 he introduced himself as follows: “I’m Murray Walker, I’m a retired advertising executive and I’m with my mate Nigel Mansell.” Mansell gave him a tender kiss on top of his head.
Character commentators: (clockwise from right) Murray Walker, Harry Carpenter with Frank Bruno, Martin Tyler and Caroline Barker
Driven by an uncomplicated love for his sport, Walker was always the observer rather than a wannabe star. Because, or in spite of his nasal effervescence, he was an entirely lovable presence. It is tough to imagine any current commentator stirring similar feelings.
Great sporting commentary distils emotions. Think of the euphoria of Martin Tyler’s “Agueroooo”, the solemnity of Jack Karnehm’s “good luck mate” for Cliff Thorburn’s 147 at the Crucible, the disbelief of Harry Carpenter on Muhammad Ali: “Oh my God, he’s won the title back at 32.” Walker’s finest hour came in 1996. “And Damon Hill exits the chicane, and wins the Japanese Grand Prix. And I’ve got to stop, because I’ve got a lump in my throat.”
By contrast, this is the era of the professionally inoffensive. It would be a mistake to dismiss a generation of sports broadcasters as bland. Caroline Barker’s thrilling and increasingly hoarse work when England won netball gold at the 2018 Commonwealth Games was big-moment commentary as thrilling as the old favourites.
Yet the overall trend is veering away from Walker’s sort, the character commentator. Match of the Day now is a procession of capable Steves and Simons whose work is hard to fault but even harder to remember. The big characters are largely in the studio: Gary Lineker, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright are the names you would associate with Motd. Gary Neville and Jamie Carragher appear on more posters for Sky Sports than Rob Hawthorne and Bill Leslie.
There is now an orthodoxy about how to commentate which few broadcasters attempt to challenge. Serious, statty, chatty. This could be down to a malaise in recruitment but is more likely an inevitable consequence of professional evolution.
This has its parallels within sport and beyond. Think of the Twenty20 specialist’s struggle to bat patiently in Test cricket, or the trend for holding possession from goal-kicks in football. Think of how the only big-budget films now are about superheroes, when 25 years ago the blockbusters had room for Independence Day (about an alien invasion), Twister (about some tornadoes) and The Rock (about Sean Connery escaping from Alcatraz). There has been a great flattening of output, a broad agreement about the optimised way to do things.
This leaves little space for the unique style of someone such as Murray Walker. He may have had his rough edges sanded smooth if starting in 2021. One viewer’s soothingly distinctive voice is another’s tedious drone. Modern sports broadcasting seems keen to plant itself in the middle of the road, conscious of an increasingly diverse audience which reaches well beyond the peculiar tastes of this island.
Production decisions will be driven by data and focus groups in a way unthinkable in Walker’s pomp. Consider the unthreatening gloss of recent Netflix productions such as The Queen’s Gambit or Bridgerton. Ideal for an international audience which is seeking comfort, not challenge.
There is more televised sport than ever before, and most of it is behind the paywall. Count the times “the voice of his sport” appeared in Walker obituaries. It is hard to be the “voice of ” anything much when your audience is limited to paid-tv subscribers.
Walker’s level of ubiquity is impossible to replicate now. Without the confidence that comes with being the undisputed No1 there is less room for experimentation. It is hard to imagine not just another Walker, but another Bill Mclaren, Richie Benaud or Sid Waddell.
It is also worth asking how any of those names might have fared in the era of social media. Walker’s ‘Murraryisms’ are remembered fondly now, but imagine the fury they would cause today.
Sport is so resolutely serious now. Little wonder the trend is towards the innocuous when more or less anything you say is potential fuel for an online roasting. It does not pay to be the outlier any more.
Walker died beloved, but modern sport wants all your love directed to the product. Focus your attention on the pure sporting action, slickly presented, unarguably high quality, best bits clipped up for social.
If that is your overarching aim then there is little space for the eccentricity of a Murray Walker, and all of the brilliance it may bring.
Little wonder the trend is for the innocuous when anything you say is fuel for an online roasting