Every sport fan thinks they could be a commentator, so I gave it a go

Telegraph

2 days ago

'Okay commentators… one minute until commentary…
'Commentators - 30 seconds until start of commentary - stand by…
'Cue count into the start of commentary in…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5 until the cue…4, 3, 2, 1…cue commentary.'
And with those words ringing in my ears at Ashton Gate – and after a brief moment where I thought I might have been in too deep – I pressed the microphone to my mouth, and my first experience of live commentary began.
It is worth clarifying two points at this juncture. Although I was commentating live on Bristol's victory over Harlequins last Saturday, in conjunction with TNT Sports, the audio was not available to the public; so everyone was spared my mumblings and mutterings during the instances when getting words out might have been easier said than done (more on that to come). Nor am I set to appear on TNT Sports's broadcasts any time soon – you're stuck with me at Telegraph Sport for the foreseeable!
Every fan across every sport has always questioned the difficulty of matchday commentary; a dream job for so many. So, the aim of this project was to find out just how tricky and demanding the art of commentary truly is by having an authentic experience in the role at a live fixture.
This all began earlier in the season when a senior executive at TNT Sports was explaining just how hard commentary and punditry really is. He was singing the praises of the likes of Austin Healey, Ben Kay and – more recently – Chris Ashton and Sam Warburton for how smoothly that troupe had turned their hands to punditry after hanging up their playing boots.
There was only one way to verify this. And, over a two-hour period commentating at Ashton Gate, I can confirm it really is incredibly difficult.
The timing is militaristic, the language is incomprehensible to the untrained ear (me), and the assault on the senses is ferocious.
While commentating last Saturday, with the match unfolding in front of me, I had nine voices in my ears, through the same pair of headphones: the television director, the producer, the PA (production assistant), the referee, TNT's actual pundits, my own voice, and the sounds of the crowd around the stadium.
It was like listening to a nine-part vocal harmony, all out of sync and, crucially, not in harmony, while also trying to offer clean and crisp commentary of my own.
Thankfully, I had been well prepped and briefed by the avuncular Ali Eykyn and the wider TNT team. I had done my pre-match prep, had been sent all of the broadcaster's preview material – detailing every stat under the sun, from the amount of caps a certain player has won almost to what car they drive and what they ate for breakfast – and I was ready to masquerade as a commentator for the day.
My notes were ready, but sadly I was unable to mirror the colour-coded fastidiousness of Eykyn's colleague, Nick Mullins.'I hope it goes well, mate,' Eykyn said just before the match kicked off. 'Just not too well!,' he added, jokingly. The last-minute advice from both him and the BBC's rugby correspondent, Chris Jones, was invaluable.
How it went, Telegraph Sport readers can be the judge. But one final plea, given it was my first ever live broadcast, with no dress rehearsal: please, go easy on me.
Charles's introduction
After all the build-up, being talked through my own miniature sound system to adjust the levels of all the different voices as well as making sure that my set-up was in order, the PA's countdown began.
I had a television screen with live footage to my right, my notes in front of me, my iPad giving me live stats as well as the scores from elsewhere on the Premiership's final day – an added, unique complication – as well as some notes from my chat with Eykyn. On that notepad read bits of advice like 'talk to the pictures' and 'the voices in your head will be complicated'.
I had listened to the director and the PA exchange phrases like 'is that 45 you're changing?', 'same again please but the bat cam' and 'cameras Mata and Randall we will back up' and now it was time for me to speak.
After a nervy start, with voice wobbling, I got into a sort of rhythm, but you can see in the below clip that I forgot one of Eykyn's golden rules: talk to the pictures.
When the Bristol starting XV flashes up, I am still banging on blindly about Bristanbul. For full disclosure, I do still manage to fit in a run-through of the Bears' line-up, but it is horribly rushed, with me giving my best impression of an auctioneer.
Bristol open scoring
This try came at the end of a set of Bristol phases where, until George Kloska had barged over, Harlequins did well to stifle the Bears' momentum and slow them down.
All of my energy and flow for the Bristol attack had been used up earlier in the move, with one of those dashing first-phase plays which the Bears love so much.
Thankfully, by the time Kloska drives over, I remember I need to sound excited again. There is a real ebb and flow to commentary; it can go from a high to a low very swiftly.
Murley scores wonder try
This was the clip I was most concerned about re-watching. That is because I realised that, when you are commentating on something of this ilk – a wonder score – in the moment, you never think or realise that the conclusion of the play might end up being a try of the season contender, with the footage replayed over and over again. And there is no chance of re-recording it.
You only get one shot. So, before re-watching and listening, I just hoped I had done Cadan Murley justice. I think I just about did, even if there was a little bit of hesitation in my voice as I tripped over a word when Murley rounded the last Bristol defender.
And the delivery of 'out of nothing' sounds like an Alan Partridge impersonation, which was not too encouraging.
For reference, here is how the real thing sounded...
Scorch marks, EVERYWHERE 💨
Harlequins aren't done yet as Cadan Murley produces one of the finishes of the season 🃏 #GallagherPrem | #BRIvHAR pic.twitter.com/2qYIRZA2bu
— Rugby on TNT Sports (@rugbyontnt) May 31, 2025
Bristol score again
If my voice went higher than this in the whole game, then I'd like to hear it. One contender might have been when Quins broke from the restart in the second half to continue a spirited if temporary fightback, when it looked as though the visitors might blow the play-off race wide open, but this was certainly up there in terms of drama, after a sweeping Bristol attack had taken the Bears to within metres of the Quins line.
Then, inexplicably, when Bristol actually score, I decide that that is the time for nonchalance. Admittedly, it was a walk-in for Gabriel Ibitoye, but come on, Charles, where is the excitement?
This was also the try that launched Ibitoye back into the reckoning for the Premiership's top try-scorer, too, which I simply just... forgot to mention at any point. Sorry, Gabriel.
Mixing up 'minutes' and 'metres' is a real blot on the copybook, too. Schoolboy.
Bristol kill the game
Well, I am pleased that I managed to correctly identify James Williams in this score but unfortunately that came after spending most of the first half getting mixed up between him and Noah Heward (of course, I know the difference between the two, but from a distance, with just one crack at it, with no replays, there was sometimes guesswork at play).
I also apologise to Harlequins fans for totally writing them off at this stage – that was just sporting instinct. That try felt as though it was the end of a Bristanbul part-two dream, but if the visitors had come back there would have been a significant amount of egg on my face.
Play-off line-up confirmed
Eykyn's advice is prescient once again. Max Lahiff looks delighted, Pat Lam hugged his assistant coaches, Bristol fans clap their side off after semi-final rugby is secured – and I mention none of it. I didn't even mention The Wurzels!
I also said 'south west' twice but the second time was supposed to be 'west country' but the phrase just escaped me entirely at that moment. At least I got the Bears' play-off opponents correct, however.
What I learnt...
Reflecting on my afternoon at Ashton Gate, the experience undoubtedly opened my eyes to the complex and arcane art of commentary, giving me a newfound appreciation of the mental and verbal juggling.
While I was commentating on live action, the PA would be informing both myself and Ali that there is a replacement on the way, giving the numbers of the departing and arriving players. Then, seconds later, the director would say that Austin needed to talk through a try at Exeter, who were hosting play-off-hunting Sale that day, before coming back to Ben to talk through a maul intricacy at Ashton Gate. Then the referee will be having an interesting chat with Harry Randall about the cleanliness of the ball he is receiving at the ruck, and you'd have to both identify that and, crucially, shut up.
There is an awful lot going on, but the experience was exhilarating (and equally as mentally fatiguing). I might not be the next John Motson or Barry Davies, but my afternoon with the mic will stay with me for many years to come.