Every night on Qatari television it is possible to be reminded of what we, in Britain, are missing.
“That was the hors d’oeuvre, now welcome to the main course. You’re watching the mighty beIN Sports with me, Richard Keys.”
Eleven years since
he and Andy Gray were defenestrated by Sky, Keys is back where he has always reckoned he should be: at the centre of things. He is bringing the World Cup to 23 countries across the Middle East and Asia. And to watch him in action is to be reminded that the smugness quotient on British sports broadcasting has been significantly diminished by his departure.
Take his discussion with his panellists about
Japan’s penalty shootout with Croatia. Gray, Ruud Gullit and Gary Neville sat there admitting that in their careers they avoided involvement in shootouts; the walk from the halfway line to the spot was way too psychologically daunting, they agreed.
“You see I don’t understand that,” said Keys in response. “I take the line of my old friend Matt Le Tissier who said penalties were a free shot from 12 yards. I’d walk from the halfway line with my chest out letting the keeper know I was about to get a free shot from 12 yards. I wouldn’t be nervous, I’d be looking forward to it.”
There was a pause as the panel took in this assessment. Then Gullit spoke for many when he said: “How would you know?”
This is, of course, harsh on a man who gives the appearance of knowing everything. And of having his finger on every pulse. When Brazil's players unveiled a banner with the ailing Pele’s face on it, Keys was quick to point something out:
“Of course we were offering our prayers here five or six days ago when we first heard the news.”
That’s Keysy: first with the prayers.
'Far more than a mere presenter of football'
Though it would be unfair to suggest the veteran presenter is not capable of making a decent point. During the lengthy golf club bar ramble that constitutes his show, he delivers several. The viewer invariably knows when he has because the camera cuts to his face, looking, as he pouts his lips in delight at his own sagacity, as if he were savouring the tasting menu at a Michelin-starred eatery.
“Why didn’t he just smash it?” he added in incredulity to Gullit over footage of a Japanese player tamely tapping his shot into the chest of the Croatia keeper. It was a neat, if perhaps unconscious, reminder to the great Dutchman of another occasion they were together in a studio. The time at Sky when, as Gullit stared distractedly into his phone, Keys used exactly the same phrase to Jamie Redknapp. Though then it was not to describe a football. But a woman.
As he has always thought of himself, in Qatar Keys is far more than a mere presenter of football. He has cast himself as the principal propagandist for the tournament. Routinely he refers to it as 'The People’s World Cup' which is an interesting definition of something organised by the partnership of a mediaeval theocracy and the least accountable sporting corporation in the world.
He tells his viewers that this has been the perfect competition, superbly organised, wonderfully delivered, with absolutely no litter on the metro. The only thing that has disturbed its loveliness is the “wrong-headed” protests by players. He had a lengthy go at Neville about footballers using their platform to stand up for human rights. “What do they know?” he asked. Neville, for once in his life, looked nonplussed.
So far so good. I’m sure somebody will find something to complain about but I’ve been greeted with warmth & whisked into the stadium ahead of schedule. All systems go…
@beINSPORTS_ENpic.twitter.com/lcNHVZjM4C
— Richard Keys (@richardajkeys)
November 20, 2022
“I tell you another thing about this World Cup in Qatar: no touts,” Keys continued. “I think we can all agree they are a scourge on the game and they are all over football in Europe. Here? You just don’t see them.”
This is self-evidently not true, as anyone who has made the trip to Fifa's ticketing office in Doha’s West Bay will know. Here, in a square in front of the building, chaps wander around shouting into mobile phones: “three category A’s at 500 dollars each? No problem.” The other day, there were so many of them plying for trade there, a push-me-pull-you scrap broke out as to who would assist two women in search of tickets to the Brazil game.
But then Keys is probably unaware of this. He doesn’t appear to get out much. While Gary Lineker and Mark Pougatch have spent the tournament presenting for BBC and ITV live from the city’s various stadiums, Keys does his turn from an old-school central studio.
There is much to commend beIN’s output, like Peter Drury’s commentary or Carrie Brown’s empathetic post-match interviews. But their studio coverage is several generations behind what we have become used to in Britain since Keys left. Neville, for instance, must have wondered why, in his four hours sitting there, not once was he provided with the kind of analytical tools he is used to at Sky. All he could do was join in the relentless chat, the chortling, the smothering sense of self-satisfaction.
Still, it gave Neville pertinent evidence of how much better things are at Sky these days. Not least how good a presenter Dave Jones is in comparison to the man who used to sit in his chair.
For a start Jones, a facilitator rather than someone anxious to be cast as the centre of attention, never talks over his guests in the way Keys routinely does. But then, as Keys would doubtless tell you himself, when you are the cleverest, funniest, sharpest man in the room, your opinion matters.
www.telegraph.co.uk
