My whole life I dreamed of being a sports announcer. When I was little, I kept stats on games I watched and listened to while giving my own personal commentaries. It sounded great to me. (Kind of like my singing.)

I pictured myself sitting in a cozy booth, giving my opinions about a game, getting paid for it and becoming a celebrity.

However, I realized you need several things to be a good announcer, a strong voice, good looks, knowledge of the game and a sense of humor.

When I figured these requirements out, I realized I had a problem (or several problems). I have been told I have one or two of these characteristics, but unfortunately compliments from my mom and grandma are not representative of the masses.

Anyway, I don’t see myself becoming an announcer anymore, but it doesn’t mean I don’t critique everything they do. I will share my ideas on the best and worst in the world of sports broadcasting.

First of all, the men who add more to the game than just the scores:

I was happy the World Series pitted the dream team of announcers — the Bobs. (Sorry Joe Morgan. You smile a lot and played a steady second base, but you play second fiddle to the dynamic duo.)

Bob Uecker. “Mr. Baseball.” “Mr. Belvedere.” My idol. Who cares if he hit .200 in the big leagues? He shagged fly balls in the outfield with a tuba. He may be “just a bit outside” the realm of the typical announcer, but that’s what makes him so great.

Bob Costas. “Mr. Everything.” Costas is the cookie-cutter mold of an announcer. Costas is the all-around man; look no further.

Keith Olbermann and Dan Patrick. “The wise guys.” The big show on Sports Center hasn’t been the same since the “tag team” split up.

Unfortunately, the sports world is not without its babbling idiots:

Magic Johnson. “Mr. Mushmouth.” What can you say? That guy had no business being behind a mic. Spectacular passes do not translate to spectacular pronunciation.

Harry Caray. “Mr. Al Zheimers.” For every time I’ve heard him call a pitch that almost hits the batter in the head, “Ball, low and outside.” For every time he’s said “It might be, it could be” when the batter has already completed his homerun trot. For every time he has called Ryne Sandberg by the name Ron Santo. For all of those times, Harry, this Bud’s for you. Hell, have the whole case.

One man stands above the rest in terms of incompetence and ugliness:

Bill Walton. “Mr. Mo Ron.” The guy is just plain terrible. He doesn’t even have radio looks, how is he on TV? Big buck teeth, flaming red hair and an annoying personality do not make for a good commentator.

Sports broadcasting also has its share of immortals:

Special mention goes out to these wonderful announcers who have done so much for the public. These men are so great that they excel in news broadcasting as well. Thanks Marv Albert, O.J. Simpson, Jimmy the Greek and Frank Gifford.

While I believe in equal opportunity employment, one man should never have the opportunity to become a broadcaster:

The guy who does the ISU touch-tone class registration over the phones. You know the one. It is the slowest, driest, most frustrating voice I have ever heard. The only thing he says that I like hearing is “Good-bye.”

These are the voices who make me laugh, cry, turn off the TV, turn up the volume and make me throw down the phone and want to withdraw from Iowa State.

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Drew Harris is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Peosta.