Let he who has skill, cast the first analysis

Complaining about sports announcers is as old as the profession itself.

"These guys are idiots, I could do their job way better than they ever could," said every sports fan ever.

Calling a game is a lot like refereeing a game — you're never going to make everyone happy. (I still hold the record for most times silenced by a producer, when my high school's TV station made the mistake of letting me call our Powderpuff game.)

But what makes being a sports announcer so difficult? It's probably because most sports fans are already holding their own ongoing conversation on what is going on in the game — or in Vin Scully's case, some old guy somewhere is creepily talking to himself.

It's hard to define what makes an announcer great. But, lucky for me, it's easy to give advice as if I know what I'm talking about. Here are some things every broadcasting major should avoid when developing his or her unique style of calling a game.

(Do you believe in miracles?)

Be smart.

Nothing is worse than listening to an announcer who seemingly has no idea what they are talking about and is coasting off prior experience without doing any research before the game.

Cris Collinsworth obviously does his homework and played the game at some point I'm assuming. (Quick: Name your favorite Collinsworth play, or, for consolation points, tell me what position he played.)

While Collinsworth does his homework on the game that he is calling, he becomes insufferable when he starts comparing his own career to actually productive players.

Sorry, Cris, nothing about your game could be compared to Dez Bryant's. Please stop saying you remember going over the middle just like him.

Be likable.

Has anyone ever listened to Joe Buck and geniunely thought, "Man, I would love to hang out with that dude"?

Buck speaks with the entitlement of a UW student who spits on kids at the Financial Aid Office for entertainment.

On top of his condescending tones, Buck calls a World Series clinching three-run homer the same way he would call a groundout in early April.

Know your audience.

Speaking of FOX's terrible World Series team, Tim McCarver needs to stop talking to us like we're 8-year-olds attending our first game.

These might all be real McCarver quotes:

"I don't know, Joe. It's raining out there; the field might get wet."

"Bob Gibson is the luckiest pitcher I ever saw. He always pitches when the other team doesn't score any runs."

"When there is no one on base, the pitcher throws it home nearly every time."

"The playoffs are the wedge between the season and the World Series. If you lose, it means you won't be going to the greatest sports event in this country ... You're forgotten by Thanksgiving."

(I only made one of those up.)

Keep it in context.

This is something that the voices of our Zags are guilty of all too often. I'm sure some of it is fueled by how much the Spokane community loves Gonzaga, and that's great.

But just because he is wearing a GU jersey does not mean he is going to be the next Casey Calvary or Blake Stepp. It's hard to take anyone seriously after you say that Gonzaga consistently recruits at the same level as Kentucky and UCLA. We recruit OK, but calm down.

Listen, we all argue with these guys, and their job puts them in the line of constant scrutiny. So remember how ridiculous you sound when you call the color commentator an idiot and then say you're smart because you said the same thing he said a split-second before him.

Think before you come to a final judgment on these guys. There is a reason why Gus Johnson is one-of-a-kind.

The call: "GONZAGA! THE SLIPPER STILL FITS!" still gives me goosebumps. In Gus we trust.