The divine David Vine

If James Burke wore the most distinctive specs in TV science, then the sports equivalent surely belonged to David Vine. The likes of David Coleman, Des Lynam and Frank Bough may have beaten him to the biggest gigs but for thirty years his open features, rhythmic voice and capacious frames graced our screens.

He became synonymous with sport-based entertainment shows and I first remember him as the host of the BBC’s Quiz Ball. I doubt I was allowed to stay up late enough for this 1966 edition but I have fond memories of some of the top contemporary footballers and managers testing their knowledge (or lack of it) on primetime TV. Five decades on, I still remember Arsenal’s Ian Ure and West Brom ‘keeper John Osborne as being particularly adept. However, if David Vine needed more than two minutes merely to explain the rules, something was wrong with the format.

In 1970, the Beeb widened the scope of questions and guests in A Question of Sport and guess who sat in the questionmaster’s chair? The programme was right up my street, even at the age of nine, Dad and I testing ourselves against Cliff Morgan, Henry Cooper and their team-mates every Monday evening. For many, the programme’s golden era featured Emlyn Hughes, Bill Beaumont and David Coleman’s V-necked sweaters. However, Vine presented 75 editions, creating the foundations which have sustained Q of S for fifty years and more than 1,200 programmes. It’s no longer required viewing for me, the cosy triumvirate of Barker, Dawson and Tufnell breeding contempt through over-familiarity. Yet for all his TV appearances in the Seventies especially, I never felt the same about David Vine.

I’d forgotten that he preceded the overpowering personality of Stuart Hall as host of It’s a Knockout then, from 1973 to 1985 he presented with Ron Pickering the multi-sport competition Superstars. It wasn’t quite as light-hearted as Knockout but it was essential viewing in our household. There were many amusing moments, usually triggered by the over-competitive nature of sportsmen (boxer Alan Minter’s canoe careering off course, Kevin Keegan’s bike crash, etc) but I religiously recorded the final scores and joined in the one event possible to do in the living room: the dreaded squat-thrusts. I was especially delighted if I actually achieved more than some cyclist or golfer, but such successes were rare. It wasn’t only about Brits like David Hemery, Brian Hooper and Brian Jacks; otherwise little-known Swedish pole vaulters, German motor racing drivers and Dutch hockey stars became household names, their performances dutifully covered by Messrs Vine and Pickering. In the Eighties, the format was tweaked for Superteams which was also very popular.

I always hankered after a revival of the concept but the twenty-first century reboots proved unexpected disappointments. What worked fine as a one-off Comic Relief extravaganza just lacked atmosphere and excitement as a sporting series, It had simply become outdated, long past past its sell-by date and, of course, lacked the Devonian tones of David Vine.

Back in the Seventies, he also became the face of three hitherto minority pastimes which became hugely popular televised sports. I’m not saying that’s all down to David but he seemed to be the right man for the job at the right time. The first was showjumping. Presumably boosted by British Olympic successes, the Beeb often broadcast live from major events like The Horse of the Year Show. Genuine equestrian experts Dorian Williams and Raymond Brooks-Ward provided the plummy commentaries, but the reliable Vine linked the proceedings, part and parcel of autumn/winter evenings after the News.

In 1978, the stars were aligned one more. Freed from his Question of Sport commitments, Vine was the man with mic and fur-lined anorak seen across the Alps in BBC2’s new Ski Sunday series. Aided again by Ron Pickering, it became part of our winter Sunday teatimes for two decades. Snooker was also on the verge of its golden era. Earlier that year, the World championships were first transmitted daily and David was the obvious choice as anchorman. Helped by characters like Higgins, White and Taylor, BBC2’s audiences soared to heights Pot Black could never dream of attaining. His vocal tone and timbre seemed perfectly in tune not only with the theme music but also the hushed ambience in the Crucible Theatre and Ted Lowe’s commentary. He remained at the helm of BBC snooker transmissions well into the Nineties but, twenty-odd years later, I still register mild surprise at seeing Hazel Irvine and not her illustrious predecessor welcoming us to the programme.

As the ultimate safe pair of hands, David Vine could also be entrusted with presenting mega-audience non-sporting showpieces such as Miss World and the UK commentary on Eurovision in ‘74. However, he lacked the twinkle of Terry Wogan, and the excitability needed to succeed as a football commentator. He was not necessarily bland and boring, though. As a journalist and reporter he wasn’t afraid to ask awkward questions, such as when he challenged John McEnroe after his “You’re the pits” outburst at Wimbledon in ‘81. Nevertheless it was as an unassuming sporting anchorman or quizmaster for which I most fondly remember the divine Mr. Vine.