Local broadcaster among classy dying breed

I remember hearing a quote after legendary sportscaster, Jim McKay, died that said something like, "Broadcasters keep talking about how great McKay was, but for some reason they keep trying to imitate Chris Berman." No truer words have since been spoken.Give Berman credit, he created a whole new style of broadcasting. He fathered a million little Bermans, running around with the same whoops, hollers and corny nicknames. Berman opened the door to a vortex that sucked in and demolished those from the Jim McKay school of sports broadcasting.

The Berman era is kind of like the '80s in music - a lot of flash and sillyness, but nothing with the same substance of past music. The Berman disease has even spread to talk radio where second-rate announcers scream about every close game being the greatest of all-time. The airwaves are a barren wasteland with no McKays in sight.

This semester, however, I was priviledged to spend three hours each day as an intern with the last of a dying breed: Sportstalk radio 1280s John DiTullio.

The first day I met John, I was nervous. Wanting to impress him, I ironed my khakis, bought new shoes and even threw on a tie. After about 10 minutes with John, I felt like I should have been kicking back in jeans.

Maybe you're thinking, "So what, he's a nice guy, that doesn't make him Jim McKay." Agreed. But the problem with today's typical sports broadcaster is that he (or she) is often more interested in bolstering their own ego and fame rather than reporting or discussing sports intelligently.

Off-air, John once said to me, "Sometimes I can't believe people want to talk sports with me and hear my opinions."

For the last four months, people talked sports with more than just John. He allowed us (myself and my fellow intern Danny) to play an integral part in the show. Listeners have grown accustomed to hearing, "What do you think Matty?" or "Danny, look that up."

John could have easily kept our mics dull and make us get him coffee, but he gets his own coffee. You think Chris Berman gets his own coffee? I understand Berman is a household name, but if DiTullio is ever on ESPN, he'll be getting his own coffee.

Aside from not having a Sears Tower-sized ego, it's John's sincerity that makes him a great sports broadcaster.

I vividly remember his interview with a police officer who held a charity police boxing tournament in memory of his son, who died at a young age. John took the right tone, showing empathy for the man's loss and gave him time to explain the reason for hosting the event.

But what impressed me most about the interview was John's tone during the commercial break. He didn't go back to chatting away about batting averages and yards-per-carry. Instead, he looked at us and quietly said, "It's terrible what that guy had to go through."

Too often, I get the impression sports broadcasters (and writers) get ahold of emotional stories because tear-jerkers equal awards and ratings. On DiTullio's show, local charities get their time because John sees it as his duty to the community to help get the word out.

John also feels it is his duty to inform the community that Brett Favre is "coming back." And that Penn State, his alma mater, should have been in the National Championship. And that U2 is the greatest band ever. But, we'll leave those things alone.

The show may not be perfect, but sports broadcasting doesn't have to be. For three hours per day, DiTullio is a little kid with a mic and the uncanny ability to recite any roster or game summary since the beginning of time. And that - or at least the first part - is all we ask.