Tony Romo and CBS Have Reached the Moment Money Can No Longer Explain Away
There was a time when listening to Tony Romo call a football game felt like somebody had accidentally left the coaches’ communication system turned on. Before the quarterback released the ball, Romo seemed to know where it was going. Before the defense shifted, he was already explaining why it had to shift. He saw blitzes developing, recognized mismatches, anticipated audibles and occasionally predicted entire plays with the irritating accuracy of a man who had already watched the game tomorrow. It was fresh. It was fascinating. It was alive. Romo did not sound like a former player collecting a broadcasting pension. He sounded like a football addict who had been handed a microphone moments after someone finally convinced him to leave the film room. His enthusiasm spilled into every sentence. His voice cracked. He laughed at formations. He became genuinely excited by pre-snap motion. He made a second-and-seven in October feel as if civilization had been waiting centuries to see whether ...
