Word: giffords
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...like a studio assembled in New York, broken down for shipment, and put back together in Innsbruck. Then they assigned American sportscasters who act as if they knew nothing about winter sports to cover the events with only the help of some former participants, whom they title "experts." Frank Gifford, ex-New-York-Giants pro football player and connoisseur of Super Bowls, commented on the Olympic downhill race: "Look at all those people flocking to the slopes. You know, this event is the Super Bowl of Austria." Werner Wolf, former small town broadcaster, explained speed skating distances: "This...
...Glynn lifts the weights, while Hilary watches hers." (As if any skater did not work out with weights.) And it was an embarrassing contrast between the women's speed skating and the men's downhill skiing. Henning and Wolf were calling 24 and 27 year old women "girls" while Gifford was titling 20-year-old Franz Klammer the "men's downhill champion...
...television spectators will benefit from the 45 cameras positioned throughout the area. ABC, which paid about $8 million for broadcast rights, will put Sportscasters Curt Gowdy, Jim McKay and Frank Gifford plus Pierre Salinger behind microphones...
Hough writes honestly and seemingly effortlessly, with the kind of uncontrived prose that allows him to affect the old man's voice. Despite his apparent occupation with Christian figures, Hough is simple and unrhetorical in his description, inflicting no heavy judgements on the reader. Gifford's unease with civilization never, through Hough's style, becomes condemnation; it can at most be the natural sum of the man's observations. There is nothing intemperate about Hough's writing, and his metaphor is artless. A phrase like "fleecy globs" is used once to characterize autopsied brains, later morning smoke-clouds in Boston...
...mistake then, maybe, to violate Hough's softspoken-ness by attributing to him the perception of the detective-martyr, the guardian, as the Christian who reveals society. Maybe it is better to take Gifford on his own humble terms, as a gentle and kind man with an interesting story. But Hough has dropped too many hints here, or made too many mistakes, by endowing this man with such astounding parcels of innocence and responsibility, as to make such a conclusion inevitable...