Kornheiser, Wilbon form perfect pair on ‘PTI’

How can it be that Tony Kornheiser, who contributed to the ruin of "Monday Night Football" last season, be so miserable in the booth yet perfect on ESPN's "Pardon the Interruption"?

Is it that "Monday Night's" late starts are simply past his bedtime? Or that he just couldn't stand Joe Theismann last season? We may know by next week when Ron Jaworski, the former Eagles quarterback whom Kornheiser and others affectionately call "Jaws," joins him in the prime-time booth.

But on "PTI," which airs here at 2:30 on ESPN (30) and at 3:30 on ESPNEWS (321) each weekday afternoon, Kornheiser is superb. Teaming with Michael Wilbon, who doubles as a fellow columnist at the Washington Post, he's totally in his element. He's confident in a way he hasn't been yet on Monday night.

The show, which is in its sixth year, emerged from the newsroom banter the two engaged in at the Post in the early '80s. I was writing a TV column there and would hear Kornheiser kvetching and the equally quick-witted Wilbon running his mouth. No one knew they'd ever be on television.

Kornheiser, 59, would probably describe himself as very smart and quasi-neurotic. Wilbon, 48, would no doubt count himself a sports knucklehead, a term of endearment he gives to his viewers. But deep down he must also know he's one sharp customer. In reality, the show doesn't work if either man can't be on the air.

"PTI" draws about a 1.0 rating -- almost a million households. The number has grown each year since the show's debut and is seen by about a third as many viewers as a typical college football game on ESPN.

Why does it work? Because it's fast, funny, smart, current and honest -- in that order. And because it has Wilbon. So strong is the Kornheiser-Wilbon chemistry that the show would have a hard time staying on the air without both of them.

In "Mail Time," Wilbon draws "letters" out of a silly mailbox. They often engage in a good-cop, bad-cop routine in which they put police officer hats on their bald heads. They then proceed to defend or criticize the actions or statements of sports figures.

A bell rings every 90 seconds or so to end a discussion, whereupon Kornheiser and Wilbon routinely ignore it for a quarter-minute more to get final comments in. An occasional "Toss Up" section requires them to take opposite sides of an issue announced by a producerlike "voice of God" that suddenly comes from on high.

Mostly, Kornheiser and Wilbon just have a good time. They ignore any argument they lose. And they dump on each other as only male friends can.

A few months ago, when the "D.C. madam" case was headline news, Wilbon opened by chortling and needling Kornheiser. "You're worried, aren't you?" he said.

"Not worried," Kornheiser shot back. "I always used your name."

Sometimes the shtick is arranged. Not long ago Kornheiser came on and announced, "No guests today, or as Don King might say."

The camera cut to Wilbon, waving small American flags on either side of his beaming face. "Only in America can get you no guests," he chortled. "It's unanimous -- and magnanimous!"

Last week Wilbon opened a show as follows:

"Pardon the interruption, but I'm Michael Wilbon. Dalton Carriker hit a home run to win the Little League World Series. Tony, did you ever do anything that cool when you were 12?"

Kornheiser responded, "I'm Tony Kornheiser and, yes, I did, but I promised Mrs. Mandelbaum I'd never tell."

Wilbon straightened. "Really! OK, I got to ask ... was this cool or was this scandalous, 'Tone?"

"Very cool from my point of view," Kornheiser said. "Scandalous from the neighborhood's."

By now Wilbon couldn't resist. "What did Mr. Mandelbaum think about this whole episode?" he asked.

Kornheiser responded with a perfectly straight face: "Doesn't know. Never knew. Doesn't know now."

Even the show's guests sometimes get into it. Last Thursday, Phil Mickelson proved he could play along. Told there was a report that the PGA Tour would test for performance-enhancing drugs next year, he said with a perfectly straight face:

"Well, I think I'm going to have to cut back now. I think it's obvious this has been directed towards me."

"And stop steroid use?" he was asked.

"Well," Mickelson said with mock seriousness, "I thought it was flaxseed oil."

Watch this show. It's required viewing.

Bill Taaffe is a former award-winning TV-radio sports columnist for Sports Illustrated. His "Remote Control" column appears Tuesday. He can be reached at taaffe-reviewjournal@earthlink.net.