Merv keeps amazing streak going
Merv Johnson admits he struggles nowadays to quickly remember names. Jersey numbers? Positions?
Stats?
Those things are still no problem for the 82-year-old who's spent a lifetime in football, most of it at Oklahoma.
Take these numbers he rattled off the other morning.
“I will have been here 40 years next January,” he said from his home in Norman. “That's a lot of games.”
He chuckled.
“I have either been on the sidelines or the press box right now 488 consecutive games.”
And if the crimson-and-cream decision-makers have anything to say about it, Johnson will be there for many more.
During the offseason, the powers-that-be talked about how the Sooner football radio broadcasts could be better. It's a conversation they have every year — like any team, they're always looking to improve — but as they talked, they realized they had some interesting options. A blossoming analyst who had shown tons of growth over the past few seasons. A new face who had tons of potential evident in even a limited amount of time in broadcasting.
But for all the things that they could do, there was one thing that they weren't willing to change.
"There was no way that we want to go forward with a Sooner radio broadcast that does not include Merv Johnson," play-byplay man Toby Rowland said. "It is vitally important that a man with that magnitude of knowledge and respect is always a part of what we're doing.
"Always."
The voices have remained the same, but some of the jobs have changed. Even as the team that plays on Owen Field settles into a new reality sans some of the biggest stars of recent seasons, there has also been change for the squad in the radio booth.
Teddy Lehman, who blossomed over the better part of the past decade as a sideline analyst alongside reporter Chris Plank, has moved from the field to the booth to provide color commentary.
Gabe Ikard, who started working earlier this year and immediately shone with Sooner Sports Properties after his pro career ended, is now on the sideline doing analysis.
And Johnson remains in the booth where he has been since 1998, but instead of analysis on a play-by-play basis, he provides insight that looks at the bigger picture.
Think of it this way: Lehman and Ikard hit quick, Johnson steps back.
"And nobody can do it better than him," Rowland said. "It's at a level that the rest of us can't see. We watch the ball, and he's at the same time seeing all 22 guys on the field moving. "It's remarkable." Johnson nonchalantly says he's just looking at the
game "like any fan would," but that couldn't be further from the truth.
He has been around college football since 1954 when he was a player at Missouri. He became an assistant at Arkansas and Missouri, then the offensive coordinator at Notre Dame before coming to OU in 1979 to work on Barry Switzer's staff.
Even when the Sooners changed head coaches like socks in the 1990s, Johnson remained. On Gary Gibbs' staff, then Howard Schnellenberger's, then John Blake's. He served as interim head coach several times during the transitions.
Johnson didn't play for the Sooners or graduate from OU, but there has been no bigger program pillar.
But of course, over the past two decades, Sooner fans have come to know Johnson best through the radio broadcasts that play at homes, in cars and even in the earbuds of people at the games. He worked alongside John Brooks, then Bob Barry, now Rowland. Johnson often provided a calm, steady voice when his sidekicks got excited. An even, measured tone when the situation seemed dire.
In recent years, though, Johnson says the job has
gotten more difficult. Part of itis the speed of the game now.
"The way the game's played anymore, there's not a lot of time," he said. "Goodness, the play's over and the team's lined up and ready to go again."
But part of the struggle, too, stems from the fact that Father Time is undefeated. He always takes a toll.
For Johnson, hearing is one of the few issues he has had. Whenthere's background noise— inside a sold-out football stadium, for example— it can be a struggle even with headphones cranked up.
Then, there's that memory for names that has slipped.
"You get older, you kind of make some mistakes," Johnson said. "It's just tougher to remember."
But the truth is, Johnson has forgotten more about football than most people know.
Rowland and Co. recognize that on a regular basis.
"Part of the value that we all get out of Merv as the radio crew is what happens on the air," Rowland said, "but probably a way larger amount is traveling with him, eating with him, listening to stories of yesteryear, listening to him describe complicated offensive schemes when
we’re at dinner and driving to the game."
The cynics might say OU has done Johnson a favor by keeping him on the radio crew. He lost Cindy, his wife of 53 years, back in 2013, so even with his grown children and their families nearby, the radio crew has become like additional family to Johnson.
Still, those who work with him say they are the lucky ones when it comes to having Merv on their team.
"He is the most sincere, genuine human being that I've ever been around," said Rowland, a fairly sincere, genuine human himself. "He has the resume to not be the way. He's accomplished so much in his life that the fact that he graces us with his kindness and knowledge and everything, none of us take for granted.
"We just feel like every game we get to spend with him we're getting to hang out with an iconic piece of college football history."
They want him to be on their team as long as possible.
For his part, Merv Johnson knows all good things must end some day. He knows there'll come a game day when he's no longer in the stadium to see the Sooners play.
"Obviously," he said, "I can't do this forever."
The evidence may indicate the contrary. If the Sooners help him out a bit this season, making the Big 12 title game, he'll hit the 500-game mark. He chuckled.
"So far, so good," he said. "We'll see what happens."