CruzDude
Senior Member sharing a brew with bajaden
Walton drives us nuts and gets the mute button every time. Way back when, Tom Tolbert was a color guy/ABC Analyst with Walton on NBA games. Skip Bayless worked for the Mercury News back then and wrote the following article for ABC News on June 4, 2003. It's one of our favorites.
*****************************************************
Tolbert ice to Walton's fire
By Skip Bayless
Mercury News
ABC News
Tom Tolbert
The tension might crackle like static on your TV screen. The obvious resentment one ABC analyst has for his new partner might make you a little uncomfortable. Bill Walton's attitude probably will be: Who is this strange person sitting next to me, and why is he getting in my way during the NBA finals?
That person will be Tom Tolbert, whose sudden rise to network stardom makes ``American Idol'' look like a karaoke contest in Des Moines.
``I got lucky,'' Tolbert said.
He got a break even more bizarre than the polka-dot shorts he sometimes wears. NBC had to replace Jayson Williams on the fly after he shot his chauffeur. One man's tragedy became another's opportunity.
But as KNBR listeners know, Tolbert's on-air talent measures up to his luck. He's quick, glib and hip. He has a high basketball and real IQ. That's why he's such an out-of-nowhere threat to Walton, who has re-invented himself as The Most Overstated Analyst in the History of Mankind.
One viewer's opinion: The 6-foot-11 Walton, who won two NCAA championships at UCLA and two NBA titles, with Portland and Boston, looks down literally and figuratively at the 6-8 Tolbert, who won no championships at Arizona or with four NBA teams.
``There could be something to that,'' said Tolbert, more amused than offended. Tolbert doesn't let much bother him, which probably heightens Walton's disdain -- or discomfort.
But allow me to qualify or disqualify myself. I know Tolbert from occasional work I do for KNBR, so perhaps I'm not objective about his talent, or Walton's refusal to acknowledge it and plug into it. It's also possible Tolbert and Walton are one-of-a-kind characters who defy chemistry. Each might be better served by having a conventional former coach for a partner, such as Jeff Van Gundy or Doug Collins.
But 15 years ago, the odds against Walton becoming a network's No. 1 NBA analyst were even longer than Tolbert becoming his partner. Then, I vaguely viewed Walton as a recluse, a former stutterer who had mostly avoided reporters during his playing days. After falling two feet short of becoming the greatest all-around center ever -- two healthy feet -- he was spending the rest of his life in a backyard teepee in San Diego, listening to the Grateful Dead.
Or so I thought. I was shocked when Walton agreed to do weekly March Madness commentary on a radio show I hosted in 1991. I was further surprised by how prepared and outspoken he was.
In the late '90s, I bought the DirecTV package just to hear Walton's not-on-this-planet rants and raves during Los Angeles Clippers broadcasts. Then, I howled when Walton said: ``That was the worst pass any human being has ever thrown.'' Or: ``What was he thinking? That was horrrrible.''
But lately Walton has cried wolf so often that the howls have turned to yawns. Everything is so over-the-top great or bad that Walton's credibility has slipped over the edge.
``I like Bill; I really do,'' Tolbert said. ``But some of the stuff he says is absolutely ludicrous. Everyone knows that.''
Tolbert challenges some of Walton's moon shots, but Tolbert has to pick his spots so his whistle-blowing doesn't interfere with the play-by-play. The theory here is that Tolbert brings out the worst in Walton, whose overstatements camouflage insecurity. While Tolbert wasn't nearly the player Walton was, Walton knows he'll never have Tolbert's gift of gab.
Tolbert is so hang-loose confident that he can come off as cocky. He doesn't pay on-air homage to Walton, who is 13 years older at 50. Oddly enough, growing up a tall basketball player in Southern California, Tolbert didn't idolize Walton.
The one label that gets under Tolbert's skin is that he was an NBA scrub. ``I was better than people think. My first year at Golden State I averaged about five rebounds and nine points in just 19 minutes a game. I started 120 NBA games, the equivalent of a season and half. Relatively, if you can play in the NBA, you're a damn good player.''
Still, Walton sniffs at Tolbert -- during and after telecasts.
``We don't hang out,'' Tolbert said. ``We don't do beers. We don't do wheat-germ shakes. I call it Bill's stealth mode. He materializes when the telecast starts and disappears when it ends.''
Tolbert got his start in broadcasting by calling Jim Rome's radio show while he was with the Clippers in 1993-94. That led to weekly appearances, which led to his daily KNBR show with Ralph Barbieri, which led to some analyst work on Stanford and Cal games, which led to some color commentary on a couple of NBC's NBA games last year.
``Then the Jayson Williams thing happened, and they called and said, `Wanna do the studio show?' There I was with Mike Fratello and Pat Croce, and pretty soon it was just me and Ahmad Rashad, talking hoops.''
And not a single championship ring could Tolbert flash for the camera. So what's the appeal of a bald guy with a goatee who can be more of a kid than his three kids and who owns only two suits, ``one for home, one away''?
Tolbert said: ``I guess they think I appeal to a younger demographic -- maybe 40 and under, because I use lots of pop-culture references from when I was growing up.''
Though he's funnier off the cuff, he has dropped a few planned one-liners on Walton -- without response. ``It's like he didn't even hear me. He just plunges right into his dissertation on how `Dallas' defense is horrrrible.' My goal during the finals is to, just once, make Bill laugh.''
The odds against that are the longest in the history of the world
*****************************************************
Tolbert ice to Walton's fire
By Skip Bayless
Mercury News
ABC News
Tom Tolbert
The tension might crackle like static on your TV screen. The obvious resentment one ABC analyst has for his new partner might make you a little uncomfortable. Bill Walton's attitude probably will be: Who is this strange person sitting next to me, and why is he getting in my way during the NBA finals?
That person will be Tom Tolbert, whose sudden rise to network stardom makes ``American Idol'' look like a karaoke contest in Des Moines.
``I got lucky,'' Tolbert said.
He got a break even more bizarre than the polka-dot shorts he sometimes wears. NBC had to replace Jayson Williams on the fly after he shot his chauffeur. One man's tragedy became another's opportunity.
But as KNBR listeners know, Tolbert's on-air talent measures up to his luck. He's quick, glib and hip. He has a high basketball and real IQ. That's why he's such an out-of-nowhere threat to Walton, who has re-invented himself as The Most Overstated Analyst in the History of Mankind.
One viewer's opinion: The 6-foot-11 Walton, who won two NCAA championships at UCLA and two NBA titles, with Portland and Boston, looks down literally and figuratively at the 6-8 Tolbert, who won no championships at Arizona or with four NBA teams.
``There could be something to that,'' said Tolbert, more amused than offended. Tolbert doesn't let much bother him, which probably heightens Walton's disdain -- or discomfort.
But allow me to qualify or disqualify myself. I know Tolbert from occasional work I do for KNBR, so perhaps I'm not objective about his talent, or Walton's refusal to acknowledge it and plug into it. It's also possible Tolbert and Walton are one-of-a-kind characters who defy chemistry. Each might be better served by having a conventional former coach for a partner, such as Jeff Van Gundy or Doug Collins.
But 15 years ago, the odds against Walton becoming a network's No. 1 NBA analyst were even longer than Tolbert becoming his partner. Then, I vaguely viewed Walton as a recluse, a former stutterer who had mostly avoided reporters during his playing days. After falling two feet short of becoming the greatest all-around center ever -- two healthy feet -- he was spending the rest of his life in a backyard teepee in San Diego, listening to the Grateful Dead.
Or so I thought. I was shocked when Walton agreed to do weekly March Madness commentary on a radio show I hosted in 1991. I was further surprised by how prepared and outspoken he was.
In the late '90s, I bought the DirecTV package just to hear Walton's not-on-this-planet rants and raves during Los Angeles Clippers broadcasts. Then, I howled when Walton said: ``That was the worst pass any human being has ever thrown.'' Or: ``What was he thinking? That was horrrrible.''
But lately Walton has cried wolf so often that the howls have turned to yawns. Everything is so over-the-top great or bad that Walton's credibility has slipped over the edge.
``I like Bill; I really do,'' Tolbert said. ``But some of the stuff he says is absolutely ludicrous. Everyone knows that.''
Tolbert challenges some of Walton's moon shots, but Tolbert has to pick his spots so his whistle-blowing doesn't interfere with the play-by-play. The theory here is that Tolbert brings out the worst in Walton, whose overstatements camouflage insecurity. While Tolbert wasn't nearly the player Walton was, Walton knows he'll never have Tolbert's gift of gab.
Tolbert is so hang-loose confident that he can come off as cocky. He doesn't pay on-air homage to Walton, who is 13 years older at 50. Oddly enough, growing up a tall basketball player in Southern California, Tolbert didn't idolize Walton.
The one label that gets under Tolbert's skin is that he was an NBA scrub. ``I was better than people think. My first year at Golden State I averaged about five rebounds and nine points in just 19 minutes a game. I started 120 NBA games, the equivalent of a season and half. Relatively, if you can play in the NBA, you're a damn good player.''
Still, Walton sniffs at Tolbert -- during and after telecasts.
``We don't hang out,'' Tolbert said. ``We don't do beers. We don't do wheat-germ shakes. I call it Bill's stealth mode. He materializes when the telecast starts and disappears when it ends.''
Tolbert got his start in broadcasting by calling Jim Rome's radio show while he was with the Clippers in 1993-94. That led to weekly appearances, which led to his daily KNBR show with Ralph Barbieri, which led to some analyst work on Stanford and Cal games, which led to some color commentary on a couple of NBC's NBA games last year.
``Then the Jayson Williams thing happened, and they called and said, `Wanna do the studio show?' There I was with Mike Fratello and Pat Croce, and pretty soon it was just me and Ahmad Rashad, talking hoops.''
And not a single championship ring could Tolbert flash for the camera. So what's the appeal of a bald guy with a goatee who can be more of a kid than his three kids and who owns only two suits, ``one for home, one away''?
Tolbert said: ``I guess they think I appeal to a younger demographic -- maybe 40 and under, because I use lots of pop-culture references from when I was growing up.''
Though he's funnier off the cuff, he has dropped a few planned one-liners on Walton -- without response. ``It's like he didn't even hear me. He just plunges right into his dissertation on how `Dallas' defense is horrrrible.' My goal during the finals is to, just once, make Bill laugh.''
The odds against that are the longest in the history of the world
