WWE commentary is abysmal in the main. Corey Graves is quite witty. Tom Phillips is directed to play an indistinct, observant role, but in comparison to Michael Cole, he face f*cks the sh*t out of it.
Cole was once considered the worst offender, and with good reason; he is more spokesperson than storyteller, a wind-up toy with a string pulled by a man with such contempt for his audience he cannot trust them to remember what happened five minutes into the past.
It's Boss Time!
Here comes The Big Dog!
Repetitive, hollow, and repetitive those words may be, but Michael Cole is at least capable of the bare minimum required for the job: talking!
His former colleague Booker T was largely incapable of that, instead reacting to virtually every impact move by grunting out an "Mmmrgghh". It was a very strange sound. It was difficult to determine whether Booker was so impressed by the action as to be hungry, or descending fully into madness. Probably the latter. It's Booker T.
Booker T was the pits. Unable to string a sentence together, those loose collectives were pure, unadulterated nonsense. Over on SmackDown, Byron Saxton is simply weird - a strange hybrid of manufactured earnestness who switches from alarmed to carefree with the suddenness of a Big Show turn. He is an emulation of a human being with one glaring design flaw: the inability to register an emotion so that it comes across as genuine.
None of these men are even half as hapless as Jonathan Coachman, bloody hell...