Like most of the country on February 27th, Pittsburgh was eulogizing an admired commentator and eloquent wordsmith. But it wasn't William F. Buckley (I can scarcely imagine anyone more incompatible with the esprit de Burgh), it was Myron Cope--sportswriter, raconteur, beloved oddball, and the former voice of the Pittsburgh Steelers. You can read all about his unlikely reign over the Pittsburgh sports airwaves here, but unless you actually heard his very colorful color commentary during a Steelers game, you won't be able to appreciate what's been lost. You can hear some snippets of Myron dissing Cleveland, describing the artistry of Jerome Bettis, and telling the ugly truth.Myron's unabashed partisanship, childlike enthusiasm, stream of consciousness non-sequiturs, and down-home catchphrases (if your "down-home" happened to be around Murray Hill in Pittsburgh) enlivened even the most boring blowouts, and if things got really exciting, Myron, like any good fan, was often hypered to the point of unintelligibility: "DI-DI-DI-DI-DIDJYUH see the Bus PANCAKE that poor Bungles cornerback who tried to come up in the hole dahn 'ere? YOI!!" I never listened to a single national TV commentator for a Steelers game while I lived in Pittsburgh--I would always turn down the TV's volume and tune in Myron and Bill Hillgrove on the radio.
So get out your Terrible Towels, fire up a Stogie, crack open a 40 of Iron City and pour some out on the ground for Cope. No one like him will ever be allowed near a professional sports team's microphone again. Alas.
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