When you close your eyes to picture the greatest goal you’ve ever seen; or the most important; or the most electrifying; or the most significant; do you just see it in your mind’s eye - or do you hear it as well? You would imagine that the German’s would have a word for this quirk of human imagination. Backpfeifengesicht is the face of someone who needs a slap. Fremdschämen is the act of wincing in embarrassment at someone else’s foolishness. If there is no word for it, there should be.

The impenetrable connection between the image of your favourite footballing moment and the accompanying lines of broadcast commentary.

“Some people are on the pitch. They think it’s all over… it is now!”

In my mind, the thought of Geoff Hurst slamming home England’s fourth in the 1966 World Cup final doesn’t play to an eerie silence; it is scored by Kenneth Wolstenholme in an impeccably perfect BBC accent. David Beckham’s penalty against Argentina in Sapporo is intertwined infinitely with the rasping joy of John Motson. Solskjaer’s last gasp toe-poke in Barcelona oozes the tones of Tyldesley. Bill Leslie and Zamora’s winner at Wembley - a joyous pair. These enduring scenes are etched in my mind with accompanying audio. 

In the late 1920s, sports broadcasting was an entirely new venture for the BBC and the first game to be broadcasted on live radio was a Division 1 fixture from Highbury. Arsenal forced a 1-1 draw with visitors Sheffield United that day and the play was called by former rugby union star and Harlequins FC captain Teddy Wakelam. Just one week prior to providing coverage of the first live broadcast football match, Wakelam served as commentator on the first live broadcast rugby union game. The initial broadcasts were remarkably rudimentary, with Wakelam describing the direction of the play while another voice would call out numbers from a neighbouring chair that would correspond to the area of the pitch in which the ball was situated. These squares were numbered 1-8 and were published in the Radio Times prior to kick-off. 

“Square Four….. Still in square four…… Square Six”

From Wakelam’s primitive description of play and a voice slightly out of earshot reeling off numbers - to the charming eloquence of Peter Drury, we have come a long way.

A commentator's role differs depending on the medium. On live radio they must accurately describe what the listener cannot see in order to make them feel a part of a game they cannot attend. On television, the job of a commentator is to provide additional texture to the broadcast - we can see the ball is with the right back on the far side, but what happened in the previous passage of play? Where is the ball likely to go from here? Is this right back in form or are they searching for an uptick in their performances? There is freedom for personality, for anecdotes, for the odd quip if the moment should strike. It’s why we gravitate so much to those who get it right - it’s why there is so much clamour for Jon Champion & Ally McCoist during tournament football - and why we reach for the mute button for the drab and disturbing. (Michael Owen and Steve McManaman, anyone?)

During the opening week of Euro 2020 we have witnessed the peaks and troughs of football commentary. Guy Mowbray had the joyous task of chronicling Raheem Sterling’s opener for England against Croatia, sweeping home into a Wembley net some 500 yards from his childhood home, uttering the line: “A goal made in Yorkshire and finished in his own neighbourhood!” A delightful nod to the assist from Kalvin Phillips. Just 24 hours before, Jonathan Pearce had the unenviable task of holding the hands of the public through some of the most harrowing scenes ever witnessed on a football pitch, as Christian Eriksen was resuscitated on the field surrounded by his Danish teammates. Sometimes acting as a conduit, mirroring the emotion of the viewing TV audience, the voices of football are also in place to guide you through the shocking; the hilarious; the vile; and the heartbreaking with a sense of certainty and authority. You feel safe with Motson, with Davies, with Tyldesley. 

Every ten year old fan will unknowingly begin to discover their very own voice of football, most likely a terrestrial commentator who soundtracked an unforgettable effort at goal they attempted to recreate in the park or the back garden, seconds after the final whistle. Leathering a battered Adidas Roteiro with the one panel flapping in the wind up against the wall of the kitchen for hours on end, muttering to yourself in a whispered scream “Beckham to take. We’re into the 93rd minute at Old Trafford. BECKHAM! YES!” You’re both Beckham and Motson at the same time.

These voices come and go with each generation. The voice of football for your grandfather will be different from that of your mother’s, whose will be different from yours. From Wakelam through Wolstenholme, by way of Davies and Motson, Tyler and Tyldesley to Mowbray and Pearce, the voices evolve as does the game itself. 

Euro 2020 - in 2021 - presents a changing of the guard in terms of lead commentary duties on ITV. Sam Matterface receives the baton from Clive Tyldesley and has the responsibility of leading us through England’s efforts to win a major tournament. He’ll celebrate with us when it goes right. He’ll console us when it inevitably blows up in our face. He’ll coin his own signature phrases. With any luck, he might just become the voice of ten year old England fans up and down the country, filled with the joys of an unforgettable summer.