A voice for newspaper

I started out my career in radio at a small station on a big hill that was run by a guy named Kevin.

I was young and stupid and I had an English degree which meant I qualified to write the news, but for whatever reason I couldn't read it. Which is to say when I tried to read it I stammered and stuttered and sputtered and pretty much sucked.

Listeners commented that I had a voice for newspapers.

But now that I'm older and a whole lot dumber I thought I'd try to get back into the radio thing. Because since then I've done a whole lot more public speaking and reading and writing and to be honest, crowds don't bother me anymore (My speech on the back dock to the Columbia Falls firefighters a few years back purged me of all fear of speaking in front of crowds. Even they thought I was pretty good and they were ready to lynch me. I won't get into that here, but those who were there know what I'm talking about.)

So I've entertained the thought of dabbling in radio. Maybe pick up a part-time job or read an occasional essay on NPR like Dean Jellison or Ellen what's-her-name from Montana Wood Products Association or even be the commentary guy for basketball games. I can ramble on about sports, well, at least I thought I could.

That's until I made a horrible discovery the other day. A discovery that has no quick fix, like drinking another beer or taking one more shot of whiskey.

Here's my problem and please, please don't laugh.

I can't say free throw. It comes out free fro every time.

You laughed. Damn you.

Actually, I can say free throw, but I have to stop and think about it and look down at my lips and watch the words come up and off my tongue, like this: Freeee Throoow.

That would never do in radio. Those guys talk fast. Real fast. Even the slowest talkers do the news in just a couple of minutes. I couldn't keep up. The game would be tied and our guy would come to the line and I'd have to pipe up about how it's a pressure situation and this is a critical free fro and then there would be a long pause and then a snicker and then giggles, and then the audience would laugh and laugh and laugh at the idiot on the radio who just said free fro.

My colleague would look at me and I would look at him and that would be it. A guy named Kevin would come over, pat me on the back and give me my last check.

You're a good guy, Chris, but you got a voice for newspapers.

Buzz off, Kevin.