I just press the button. I dunno what the channel is. Anyway, Channel Whatever hired and promoted somebody called 'Duck' to call football games. At his most urbane this Duck fellow is mute. (It doesn't happen often enough but it will happen.) The genius who hired Duck to express endless *smile* bitterness retained Bruce to add some class to the commentary. And maybe to try to teach some class the this Duck gibberer.
What evolved, and will continue, is that Duck talked less.
And this other bitter creep. This BT, with his endless snivelling and negativity, was to be elevated by the presence of somebody who can read and write. This BT sniveller will deadset *smile* on the windows of the commentary box because he thinks that's the contest.
This Duck and this BT. If you or I were in the commentary box with them we might just douse em with the fire extinguisher. Then get some HazMat specialist to take em away. Bruce couldn't do that. He had to carry them.
Ibsen died with Alzheimers. I read once that not long before he died a family member found him at a typewriter, pressing random keys. And Ibsen looked up and said "I used to be a great writer, you know."
It doesn't matter who you are, God's gunna cut you down. But it was men who set the dying Bruce impossible tasks when he was at his weakest. And the poetry is in that - he went okay.