Joe Buck Owes Jet Fans an Apology

December 22, 2004

EARLY IN THE GAME with Seattle, tv announcer Joe Buck obviously became annoyed with Jet fans who were doing the chant that the whole league is starting to hear: “J-E-T-S! Jets, Jets, Jets!” for he commented sourly about “All this alphabet business,” and then wisecracked, “It’s a good thing the team isn’t called Commodores.” And on the ensuing kickoff his partner Chris Collinsworth joined in the fun, announcing: “The ‘Commodores’ now kicking off.”

Whatsa matter, Joe? Were we rude fans with our cheering interrupting some pearl of wisdom you were dropping? And by the way, that’s been our cheer for decades – are you just now becoming aware of it?

As for you, Collinsworth, once he had ridiculed us, why did you join in?

The whole thing was a gratuitous insult to the fans who created that delightful little moment in every home game, and the Jets should demand that Buck apologize to us at his next telecast.

It’s funny. He’s smart, smooth and football-wise – but for some reason I never really liked this sportscaster.

Now I have a reason. Unless, of course, he apologizes on camera – and I would appreciate hearing the word “jerk” in there somewhere. And Collinsworth could make some points for himself by putting in a little “Me too, folks.”

 

A little historic background on the fan-created cheer. In the 1940’s and ’50s, when pro football was striving to rival the great college games in popularity, the glaring thing you would notice at the pros was that there was just a football game – no cheering sections, chanting organized cheers and singing rousing songs – Notre Dame’s famous “Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame,” Michigan’s “Hail to the conquering hero, Hail to the victor valiant,” and so forth. The pros offered no spectacular marching bands and of course no flashcard sections, where on a series of commands students would make giant pictures by rapidly holding a series of poster-sized cards over their heads. I once directed a CinemaScope short subject on that collegiate spectacle for 20 th Century-Fox. It was a show in itself.

Pro fans who remembered those college games and yearned to create some of that color at the pro games where only George Marshall, owner of the Washington Redskins, provided his fans with a marching band – the other owners were too cheap to do so – found an answer in Baltimore.

That was where I believe it began. In the post-World War II years, before the Jets existed, I witnessed the phenomenon for the first time at Municipal Stadium in Baltimore, where Colts fans would rhythmically spell and cheer the name of their team.

The origin was truly organic. A guy would stand up in the upper stand behind the end zone and wave his arms for attention, unassisted by any tv as our Fireman Ed is today – it’s almost hard to believe that this lone man could get the attention of 50,000 or more people, but it had obviously evolved over many games, starting with a small group in his area and growing until, at the game I attended, I saw him bend himself into shapes like a pretzel, first standing sideways and hooking both arms to make a C, then closing his hands overhead for O, thrusting one arm out and the other over his head for L, spreading his arms to both sides for T, and winding up gloriously by standing sideways, hooking one arm over his head and sticking out one foot behind him to make S, as 50,000 roared with each successive gyration: “C! O! L! T! S! Colts, Colts, Colts!”

We’ll be watching for that apology, Joe

– Tom McMorrow
(Our Wise Old Egg)