All those mimics, on late night TV, street corners, and in bars went mute along with him. Cosell was not only sui generis, he also faded quickly from public consciousness once he was pushed off the air. The industry barely had room for Keith Olbermann, his nearest kin in brilliance and insecurity. Naively (he often accused me of being naive), I thought he would spawn a brave new generation of tell-it-like-it-is and tell-it-like-it-should-be broadcasters who would bring sports journalism at least up to the shaky standards of the rest of television news. Almost alone on the small screen, to this day, he was able to relate games to the surrounding culture. Sure, he shilled for sporting events-football, boxing, baseball briefly, the Olympics, and some made-for-TV reality games-but he also delivered thundering jeremiads against greed, exploitation, racism, and the spurious use of tax dollars and eminent domain to build stadiums that would enrich the owners with whom he loved to mingle. He was encouraging to me, personally and by example he used his radio and television pulpit to become the most important commentator on sports-related news in the country. I didn’t always like Howard Cosell, but I did love him. Didn’t that mean he was the only sportscaster? One year, in the same poll, he was voted both the best-liked and most–hated sportscaster. Howard Cosell once said to me, “Bobbin, you have a face for radio and a voice for print.” It was inspirational! Despite a bad toupee and the most irritating voice on the airwaves, this self-righteous stork was one of the main reasons why ABC was no longer the Almost Broadcasting Company, Monday Night Football the blockbuster hit of prime time, and a white sports audience came to understand Muhammad Ali’s persecution.
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