Canned Crowd Noise on TV: Cheers or Boos?
With the possible exception of baseball, which apparently would prefer to hit itself in the head with a Louisville Slugger, sports are inching toward a return to action. Auto racing and golf, which have the advantage of social distancing—motorized and non-motorized divisions—are already back.
With spectators likely to be banned for Coronavirus safety reasons, a debate is arising about the use of fake crowd noise. It would be similar to the laugh track used by sitcoms to enhance the viewing experience for TV audiences.
Purists say that would be heresy. Joe Buck says it’s pretty much a done deal for NFL games.
German soccer already is using canned reactions—to mixed reviews. The Premier League also will use artificial crowd noise. But that’s soccer. My only experience with soccer noise is a Greyhound bus-station-like din, punctuated by a guy blowing one of those annoying horns incessantly. And an announcer shouting, ``Go-o-al!’’ and making it last as long as possible because there’s only one goal every hour or so.
What about football, basketball, hockey?
I mentioned this to my Tuesday foursome. And being crotchety old guys like me, they immediately took the conspiracy theory and ran with it.
``Who’s going to be in charge of it?’’ the Packer fan said. ``If it’s the home team, they could make it so loud the visitors wouldn’t be able to hear their signals.’’
``Even if it’s the league or the TV people, do they make it favor the home team?’’ the Bears fan said. ``That’s how it would be if there were fans there.’’
``It wouldn’t matter for Trubisky,’’ the Packer fan said. ``He doesn’t know how to audible.’’
``Maybe the Bears taught him this off-season.’’
``There was no practicing because of Coronavirus. How would he learn?’’
``Well, then it would be the Bears’ advantage when Rodgers tried to audible in Chicago.’’
``If the Packers left Khalil Mack unblocked, then Rodgers would be out of the game and that rookie Jordan Love would go in. And then the crowd noise wouldn’t matter. Because he wouldn’t know how to audible, either.’’
It was a such a fascinating conversation that I decided not to speculate on whether the fake crowd noise would be heard by the TV audience—but not the actual football players.
Next Tuesday. Maybe.
Here’s the thing. I have mixed feelings about crowd noise, fake or real.
For fans, there’s nothing better than a crowd that’s ear-splitting loud. For sportswriters, it’s a mixed bag.
I covered the Blackhawks in the old Chicago Stadium when fans liked to cheer their lungs out during the National Anthem. Listen to that a couple or three nights a week and you could wreck your ear drums.
Believe me. I have the hearing aids to prove it.
By contrast, one of my favorite moments on the hockey beat came at a notoriously quiet rink. The old Montreal Forum was always packed, but fans there were so serious about their hockey. It was like they were going to the opera or the ballet. They dressed up. They sat quietly, for the most part. They showed their appreciation with polite applause.
So one night, a nasty fight broke out between the team’s two toughest guys. And they were really mad at each other. So mad that they kept shouting angry words at each other, even after they were locked up in their respective penalty boxes.
Finally, referee Andy van Hellemond had heard enough. He was about to drop the puck, but instead skated over to the penalty box and pointed at the two yappers.
``You! And you! Shut the Eff up!’’
Because the Forum was so sedate and proper, we could hear the Eff word on press row, a raised catwalk on the other side of the ice. Everyone else in the quiet arena apparently heard it, too.
The gasp from the crowd was more startling than the reaction to a go-ahead goal.
Honestly, I never liked that ``We will, we will, rock you!’’ mayhem. It was obviously very unsettling for visiting fans. But I considered it an obnoxious and over-the-top display by the home crowd.
I’ve never been a fan of ``Jump Around’’ either. They play that song at the end of the third quarter at my alma mater, Wisconsin. And everyone jumps up and down at Camp Randall Stadium. It’s like an earthquake in the press box. Despite reassurances from the Engineering Department, I feel in danger. And the song sounds likes pigs about to meet their maker at the slaughter house—not my kind of, um, music.
If the fake crowd noise for spectator-less games is going to include ``We will rock you!’’ and ``Jump Around!’’ I am definitely against that.
By contrast, if you’ve ever been to that first game of an NCAA tournament quadruple-header, or the opener at a conference basketball tournament, the sound is similar to a large train station during a lull in arrivals and departures. Undramatic? Yes. But also soothing.
Then again, that’s the view of a crusty old scribe. Fans want noise, drama, excitement—even when there isn't any. TV networks want to give it to them. And I’m curious enough to think that really bad fake crowd noise might be unintentionally amusing on TV.
And it if isn’t, there’s always Mute Button. Which is often my preference, anyway.
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