Testimony to a man you admire.....and then forget.

BY IAIN TURNER

While ITV’s status in TV land becomes ever smaller, it can boast a mini renaissance in the quantity of its football coverage. It will always draw familiar criticisms regarding the quality of pundits Andy Townsend and to a lesser extent Robbie Earle, but the same cannot be said of its presenter, Steve Ryder. Unlike Arsenal’s tepid performance last night, Ryder gave us a masterclass in understated live TV presenting.

Watching Ryder is like watching a ghost. When the programme finishes you do not remember him or his words. He fully acknowledges that the sport is the main event and he is a means of complementing it. He is simply a facilitator where any introduction of opinion or his personality are not necessary; in fact they would be a distraction. This is in complete contrast to many of his contemporaries: how many times do we need to know that Gary Lineker and Alan Hanson go golfing together, or that Adrian Chiles is a West Brom fan, or that Adrian Chiles is a Brummie, or that Adrian Chiles is dreadfully ugly.

(For those wanting to know , Ryder is a Charlton Athletic fan, and he’s not ugly).

Ryder can be considered to be the last all-rounder in British sports presenting working today. His is a link to a different era, rising through the ranks of regional sports coverage in the 70’s and all the way to Grandstand in the mid 80’s. For most of his career at this iconic programme he played number two to Des Lynam. Like a pre-car-crash Carlo Cudicini – a safe and more than adequate back-up.

He was Watson to Lynam’s Holmes.

In the 90’s Ryder came in to his own, becoming the mainstay of Grandstand, golf majors and the Olympics. For a time, in American Football terms, he was the BBC Sport’s ‘go-to guy’. He was Lynam, without the sexual potency.

When Lynam left the BBC, sports coverage on the channel started to fragment. Ryder was no longer heir-apparent. He found himself surrounded by the rising star of Lineker, the dogged determinedness of Hazel Irvine and the varnished tan of John Inverdale.

In the end, Lineker , not Ryder, inherited the lion’s share of Lynam’s roles, while B-listers such as Ray Stubbs and Sue Barker lurked like hyenas to fight over the remaining scraps. Ryder was now a bit-part player, seemingly overtaken and undervalued.

A move to ITV, presenting Formula One, resurrected his career and coincided with a resurgence of interest in the sport, thanks mainly to the success of Lewis Hamilton during his debut season. In the paddock, wearing a crisp white shirt, Ryder’s cool and effortless delivery proved to be still intact as did his winning smile. He was once again Lynam, without the sexual potency.

Now the face of ITV Sport, Ryder’s unassuming demeanor and well-timed delivery show beyond doubt that past sporting achievement is not the integral qualification needed for a quality sports presenter.