I once worked for a man who spoke only in clichés. They were his language, the comfy little packages he used to communicate with the creatures of the outside world.

Each day he’d line them up like pewter toy soldiers, ready for action, prepared to address any workplace situation that might arise.

Suddenly one would pop out, almost always followed by a clever little smirk, like he’d made it all up by himself. The Duke of Platitude, in a never-ending war against original thought.

On customers wanting better prices: “And people in Hell want ice water.”

Transportation issues: “We’re putting the cart before the horse here, folks.”

Internal documentation: “Well, between you and me and the fencepost…”

Lunch breaks: “Looks like we’re one sandwich short of a picnic here.”

On raises: “Well, you know, people in Hell want ice water.”

But there is one place where that old necktie would have fit in, and that’s among the jabbering hoard of TV analysts that are forced upon us during NFL weekends.

Here we’re talking about prime cliché breeding territory. It’s the Fertile Crescent. A place where these phrases can roam free without fear of drought or starvation or natural predators like bad ratings. Where observations can’t be too musty or stale and verbal recycling is strongly encouraged. A sample from this past Sunday’s harvest:

Tom Waddle, NFL Network pregame: “It’s smoke and mirrors at this point for the 49ers.”

James Brown, CBS pregame: “…and Dallas is in the catbird seat.”

Dan Marino, CBS pregame, on Brett Favre: “Playing quarterback is the hardest thing
to do in team sports, and this guy has taken it to another level.”

Tony Siragusa, Fox, 49ers at Steelers: “When you know it’s going to be 100 percent pass, you just pin your ears back. … We’re all pass rushing, we’re all getting upfield, we’re all just having fun out there.”

Dan Dierdorf, CBS, Dolphins at Jets: “Are you kidding me? Back-to-back circus catches?”

More Siragusa, on undrafted players: “It’s hard to look at a guy and see him and say whether he can play or not. You gotta measure how big his heart is.”

On they march, play after play, season after season.

Years ago, USA Today had a media critic named Rudy Martzke who used to watchdog all the happenings in the sports broadcast business. He’d sit like a sniper, crouched in the tower, taking shots at the weekend’s malapropisms and screwups, and it pissed off a lot of people in the business. But it became a tremendously influential column, particularly back in the 1980s, as cable TV was on the rise. I mean, every week all the network Poo-bahs would rip through the sports pages to see if Rudy had cracked on their guys or panned their graphics or maybe even had something nice to say. Hirings and demotions and firings would allegedly result.

Rudy had an all-cliché team lined up, too. He made sure to rip the analysts who “carried it like a loaf of bread” or “played smashmouth football” or “went to the well too often.” Obviously, if you were a broadcaster trying to keep a good name, you didn’t want to be one of Rudy’s all-cliché-ers.   

But today the verbiage pretty much goes unchecked. The clichés now run in stampede. And the reason is fairly simple: There is too much airtime to fill. Too much pregame. Too many former Pro Bowlers crammed at the roundtable. Too many producers chirping, “Talk! Talk! Talk! into the analysts’ headphones. It’s too much television, all the hype and sensationalism and celebrity, and the standards continue to head lower.
 
“You know what really drives it?” says former NBC play-by-play great Charlie Jones. “The producers and executives don’t even care anymore. There’s so much network coverage of the game that they’re basically just running warm bodies out there. For the suits, it’s become a star-(kiss)er mentality – sign the hottest name, the big-time player or coach who just retired. Now the execs can brag to all their friends, ‘Yeah, we just signed so-and-so. We got him! I played golf with him the other day, and we’re friends now.’ They don’t even listen to the broadcasts on Sunday anymore. If they want to find out how their new hotshot analyst is doing, they’ll just read the media column in Monday’s paper.”

Jones feels cliché fever can be cured by just a little extra work with the DVR.

“You really have to watch yourself if you’re going to do it right,” he says. “Go back and listen to yourself. I’d actually keep a list of things not to say during a game, and I’d review right there in the booth. Obviously the standard is very different now. I’m not sure if (broadcasters) even care if they do it right.
 
“For example, I was just watching Kentucky-Arkansas and I heard somebody say, ‘He dodged a bullet.’ Wow. That’s terrific. Ten years ago, you could get away with using that line twice, maybe three times a year. Now I’ll probably go sit down and hear it again.”

Len Dawson made the transition from Hall of Fame quarterback to NBC color analyst in the mid-1970s. He’s done the news for Kansas City’s KMBC for decades.

“I had to learn how to broadcast from scratch," Dawson says. "Back then they didn’t have the training seminars for former players like they do today. You’d ask your peers for help when you needed it, but I really tried to find my own style. I stayed away from the cliché stuff. I wanted to analyze the games as a player would, not just repeat the things that had been said before.”

A unique observation to a hundred-year-old game. Somehow keeping it all fresh. Can it really be done anymore?

“Let’s have some new clichés!” cried Samuel Goldwyn, the old Hollywood mogul, after throwing down a hackneyed script someone handed him.

At least one former star was dialed into that strategy last Sunday.

Emmitt Smith, ESPN pregame, on Randy Moss: “You can’t change the stripes of a leopard. You can’t …change the stripes …of a leopard.”

Oh, well. Hopefully he’ll get the hang of it.

The Pro Game’s Fab Five
5) Green Bay (3-0) — I tried to download the Packers’ 2007 media guide the other day. The ol’ Presario churned and clicked and groaned for 45 minutes, then decided cardiac arrest was an easier option. A farewell message appeared: 27 pages on Favre — critical error, information overload.

4) Dallas (3-0) — Am I imagining this, or are the Cowboys playing a more relaxed style of football, a tension lifted, now that the old bear Parcells is no longer pacing the sideline? Coach Phillips even smiles and pumps his arms and shows a little emotion. Celebrate the little things, Wade; it’s good for the soul.

3) Pittsburgh (3-0) — If the team muscles past Arizona this weekend, then it’ll be congratulations to Mike Tomlin, the first Steelers rookie coach to start 4-0. That’s 75 years of history weighing down on the man, a valiant burden. Just remember the words of Art Rooney, whispered to his first head coach, the great Forrest ‘Jap’ Douds — “Robust grass endures mighty winds; loyal ministers emerge through ordeal.” … or was that Churchill? Or Shakespeare?

2) New England (3-0) — The last time I’ve felt this steamroller vibe about a veteran team, at least this early in the season, was in the fall of ‘89. The 49ers, a defending Super Bowl champion that had yet to hit its peak. Montana zipping ‘em in to Rice … Roger Craig working the creases … Charles Haley and that fine, late game pass rush.  …  I’ve got to be careful here. The rule is, no gushing and gooing in September.     

1) Indianapolis (3-0) — Denver visits the Indy Dome this weekend; in their last two meaningful trips there, the Broncs’ defense has given up an average of 45 points. But things will be different this time around; the Denver pass patrol has stiffened. I see them holding Manning under 37 this time around … easy.

Tom Danyluk is a freelance sportswriter based in Chicago. His book, "The Super '70s," is now on sale. Visit www.thesuper70s.com for information. You can read his weekly column on this Web site.