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When I was a kid, going to church was a spiritual experience; as in you'd need a steadfast spirit to weather the undeniable tedium that dotted the road to salvation.
Wooden pews that were slightly less comfortable than the bleachers at Yankee Stadium on a sold out afternoon. Monotone scripture readings that sounded like C-SPAN on a valium kick. A hymnal full of songs that really, really, really, really were in need of some catchy hooks. All of it focused through a humorless old man in a frock, looking like an extra from the Vatican scenes in "Godfather III."
Boring? Boring doesn't describe it. Even my father, devout as he is, would fall asleep, his head bobbing down to his chest for a few seconds and before slowly rising back up to focus on the altar. This would happen - and I'm being conservative here - at least 50 times during an hour-long mass. Yet he'd scold me if I ever rested my ass on the front of the bench while kneeling during communion.
For a celebration of God, it was more like a birthday party for the kid nobody likes in kindergarten. I often wondered what church would be like if I were a Southern Baptist, what with the depictions I had seen in documentaries like "The Blues Brothers."
But since I'd blend in there about as well as T.O. at a McNabb family reunion, I never gave it chance.
Church was vanilla and tepid, but we went every week. Because it was an entrenched part of our lives, a requiem for our identity and faith. We didn't need bells and whistles to get us to come back; although bells and whistles would have really helped the third verse of "Loving Shepherd of Thy Sheep."
Yet at some point during the MTV Generation, many faiths decided to court a new audience by turning their masses into stage shows. Out goes old Italian priest, and in comes hip young minister who wants to "rap" with you about the Lord. Out go the stodgy piano-driven hymns, and in come the guitar-driven mid-tempo Christian rock anthems. Video clips, packed auditoriums, light shows...I'm sorry, did I just walk into a Coldplay concert by mistake?
These religions saw their attendance wavering, and took drastic measures, not grasping this obvious concept: that there is always going to be devoted followers, and those who feel obligated to attend, who will continue to show up no matter how the material's being presented.
The same holds true for the Church of Sports on Television. Generations of sports fans beget other generations of sports fans. Even if the numbers dip, they aren't going anywhere - in the darkest days of the football, baseball and basketball, those fans eventually came back to the Church.
But when you're spending billions of dollars for the right to bring the Church to millions of homes, you're not about to take any chances. Obligation and habit only go so far, goes the thinking; bells and whistles must be applied to keep, and grow, that audience.
For years, ESPN has been a forerunner in technological advancements in sports television. Its baseball coverage remains a digital marvel. It's even redefined the way non-sports like poker, darts and golf have been presented.
Lately, it's been getting nutty with its inventions. Like when it showed a Duke basketball game last season using only the cameras on top of the backboards on one network and a more traditional view on another. And like on Monday, when ESPN Full Circle debuted on the Florida State/Miami game: a dazzling picture-in-picture-meets-split-screen concoction that covered nearly everything on the field in small boxes. Both coaches were featured on the sidelines. Another two cameras were on the quarterbacks at all times. Another two cameras were focused from the end zone. Still another camera dangled over the field (thanks, XFL).
These feeds were all presented in raw form, each taking up a small corner of the screen. Think of the opening credits of "The Brady Bunch," only minus Robert Reed and with Alice's box about three times the size (you have no idea how dirty I feel right now having just typed that).
Did it work? Most of the time; although without cutting to different shots, much of the camera work reminded me of the "extreme close-up" bit from "Wayne's World." I like seeing the head coaches at all times, but I don't need to see a quarterback who's not on the field at all times. If anything, there needed to be better selection of what to watch and when to watch it. A few shots of the crowd at a college game wouldn't have hurt, either.
Still, it marks a significant innovation for football on television. I've long said that the NFL - when it eventually does make all of its games pay-per-view - should offer several channels for each game. If I want to watch Michael Vick for three hours, I go to the Vick channel, which has a PIP version of the actual game going in the corner of the screen while my camera's focused on Vick's every move.
Full Circle brings us closer to that ideal, but isn't perfect. All of those boxes probably looked great on a mega-screen in a sports bar, but not so much on my HDTV widescreen, where they looked cramped. But the potential is there.
So why do it? Why change the scrolling side view of traditional football coverage?
To snag the Madden fans. To get those A.D.D. Ritalin kids focusing on a new part of the screen every few seconds. And, most importantly, to offer Generation Blog a full-access pass to a sporting event that otherwise would only be available in ESPN's mobile control room. This technology shows you more than you'll ever see, or want to see.
Me? If you've read "Glow Pucks and 10-Cent Beer," you know I'm a traditionalist. I'm Pat Flippin' Buchanan when it comes to sports and sports on television. I'll always need the conventional presentation of a football game in order to enjoy it, but I wouldn't mind a second channel with all the ancillary stuff. I just don't see Full Circle replacing the standard presentation any time soon.
One caveat: if ESPN ever finds a way to offer alternative audio tracks, I'm all over it. Can you imagine having your choice of the usual football booth or, say, a booth with Jimmy Kimmel, Larry David and Bill Maher?
Then again, if I wanted a banal host, a grating curmudgeon and an egomaniac, I'd just watch "Monday Night Football."
God Bless the Church of Sports Television, where my father also nods off at least 50 times per event...
Published on the web and www.SportsFanMagazine.com since 1997, "The Jester's Quart" is a weekly satirical look at sports, pop culture and why NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman is a jackass. Columnist Greg Wyshynski is the Senior Editor for SportsFan Magazine in Washington DC, and the Senior Sports Editor for The Connection Newspapers of Northern Virginia. His book "Glow Pucks and 10-Cent Beer: The 101 Worst Ideas in Sports History" can be ordered now. Email Wyshynski at jestersquart@hotmail.com.
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