Masters of the microphone

Jonathan Pearce has the deepest lungs in the business

BBC Sport's Rob Bonnet admires the football commentators who never lose sight of the bigger picture.

It's 75 years, pretty much to the day, since Captain Henry Blythe Thornhill Wakelam broadcast the first commentary on a league football match.

It came from Highbury - a 1-1 draw between Arsenal and Sheffield United.

Listen to the good captain - as you can elsewhere on this website - and you'll think you're eavesdropping rehearsals for a Harry Enfield/Mr Cholmondley-Warner sketch.

And you can hear another voice calling out numbers apparently at random. A helpful assistant is relating the passage of the ball to a Radio Times diagram for the benefit of listeners.

Not unreasonably, the captain sounds tetchy at the interruption of his flow but keeps a lid on his impatience.

Alan Green's head would have exploded after five minutes.

Barry Davies beats most of the rest because he clearly believes there's a world out there beyond the stadium

Rob Bonnet

We've all been commentators of course, especially in solitary one-man games.

Once upon a time I was George Best, Bobby Charlton, Denis Law and Kenneth Wolstenholme rolled into one, hammering tennis balls against a neighbour's wall.

Thud, thud, thud went the ball; rant, rant, rant went the breathless clichés as "mazy dribbles" were followed by "salmon-like leaps" and "Bobby Charlton specials", with the European Cup won well before its time.

Analysis

You'll be thankful, therefore, that the BBC has spared you a Bonnet sports commentary. But on Tuesday's BBC Breakfast I met again one of the very best of his profession.

For my money, the BBC's Barry Davies beats most of the rest, simply because he clearly believes there's a world out there beyond the football stadium.

You certainly couldn't call it diffident, but Barry's style leans on minimalist principles.

He's more Dan Maskell than Jonathan Pearce in volume and word-count, more Maggie Thatcher than Bill Shankly in terms of the game's ultimate value in life.

For Barry, less is more.

Maybe he once sat next to a fan whose 90-minute, babbling, know-it-all analysis so wore him down that he simply longed for a quiet moment to believe in the truths of his own eyes.

In other words, Barry knows the value of looking and seeing - in silence.

Kenneth Wolstenholme (with ball) leads the BBC's 1966 World Cup team

But then that's not much good on the radio, of course.

And just in case you think I'm "dissing" Motty by exclusion, I reckon his Five Live commentary on Manchester United's 5-3 comeback at Tottenham was the best 45 minutes of sports radio I've heard all season.

Committed, dramatic but above all amazed - like the rest of us - at United's audacity.

Respected

The knowledgeable Jonathan Pearce arrives soon at the Beeb, and whoever he's paired with on Five Live, he'll be cheese to their chalk.

A voice with real edge and the deepest lungs in the business, which fill fast and empty slow with just one word: "G-O-A-L!"

The boy is from Bristol, but the style is from Brazil.

And in the long-term, more commentaries and more commentators. The web, digital radio services, further local radio expansion.

More, inevitably, will mean less in terms of quality. Flicked your FM dial through the pop music stations recently? Heard the DJs? Then you'll know what I mean!

I asked Barry Davies whether he thought he had a real job, properly respected by the fans, who might otherwise be forgiven for thinking that sports commentary was a bit of a doss.

"Tricky question" he mused. But we all know the answer really.

Anyone can do it, but only a few have the talent, intelligence and sharpness of eye to do it well.