Dave "Woozy" Wyman

A joy in my life is mindlessly listening to local sports radio for the first two or three hours of my shift at work, in what is mid-afternoon for most people, but mid-morning for me. I've now heard three versions of the same show and the only constant is the woozy voice of ex-NFL linebacker, Dave Wyman. Dave is one of those football players that no one will remember. A second rate linebacker on a dismal team, who never played a snap in a playoff game, and yet had a nine year career. The NFL is full of men like Wyman, who live for football, and indeed he is the soul of the game. I'm sure Dave would've played nine more years, if he could have, without ever seeing a Super Bowl ring, or a Pro-Bowl. And like many ex-jocks, he went behind the microphone when his career was over, but not without a stint at Merrill Lynch, and perhaps a stab or two at opening a car dealership. Dave also went to Stanford, where he may have been an All-American, and uses this to his advantage as being a "smart" jock. One day when Danny O'Neil went on about a geology class at the University of Washington for football players called, "rocks for jocks," Dave was quiet.

Dave works best as a color guy with insider knowledge, who can interject a good story from his NFL days, or offer real insight on the X's and O's of football strategy, and the good hosts defer to him on this. They also bring out the best of his old school attitude, while keeping his smarts intact. Danny O'Neil was the best fit for Dave, a Gen X sports host, who had real poetic insight when leading the show, unlike most sports guys. Danny was capable of having a big idea full of pop culture references that extended beyond sports, Dave and Jim Moore (more on him later), could keep up with, and the banter was charming. Then, Danny, Dave, and Moore, ended one day, and my heart was broken. I knew the new show could never be good, and so did Danny, who sounded heart broken at its ending. Danny was the pop culture loudmouth, Dave the woozy unrepentant jock, and Jim Moore, an old school newspaper guy, who had a penchant for gambling. Sure, Dave and Danny piled up on Jim Moore, because he was the kind of guy who should've had a sign on his back saying, "kick me," but Jim was the ultimate sports fan, and the more one listened to the show, the more likeable the old newspaper guy became, and the more it became clear that the trio had a schtick that worked. They used to call the show, "Misfit Radio," and it made sense.

Then, one day during a Friday Night Mariner game on location at Edgar's Cantina, Danny O'Neil announced it was their final show, and he was heart broken. It became Bob, Dave, and Moore, with Danny O'Neil going onto his own show, and the misfits were gone. "Who would've thought a guy with a stuttering problem, a football player whose taken hits to the head, and a color man who was a newspaper guy battling depression could make this work, but we did."


Bob Stelton is now talk radio's equivalent of a play by play guy and he's anything but a misfit; he's the kind of sports fan you'd meet in a bar and wish you'd never started talking to unless you wanted a recitation of the game you'd just watched. They stole the format of Danny, Dave, and Moore, but it had none of the same magic, save that Bob and Dave would pile up on Jim, but Bob didn't have the same love for him, that Danny did, and the show became mean. Still, the weight of Jim Moore and Dave Wyman created enough of an illusion that you were listening to Danny, Dave, and Moore, to make it a decent version of an oldie but a goodie, like a touring band with most of the members on stage, if not all, and it was good enough. Dave didn't have to say too much, and Jim Moore provided all the color, with his "Go Cougs" boyish charm and Zen like idiocy, that in some ways rivaled Bukowski at the race track. Sure, I wanted Danny O'Neill's penetrating mind as opposed to Bob Stelton's that was made of wood, but understood Danny may be too smart for most listeners, while Bob was right down their alley, and gave in to the new format.

A Week Later:

I let the show sit for a week, and it's toast. Dave can't lead a show as co-host, nor can he be the ass-hat Jim Moore was as a color man. Wyman is good at nostalgia and throwing in a story from his past like Coach on Cheers, but sports talk radio is not about jocks in the booth. It's about fans talking to fans. Dave loves the game but like a coach. I now only listen to Wyman and Bob to numb my mind.