Talk is cheap, unless it’s the NFL: Kuechly and Tomlin are latest to cash in

The first NFL games are in the books, and admit it, you, too, were surprised that Mike Tomlin could smile that much on set. Perhaps even, you counted how many times Luke Kuechly would work in “Bam!” as part as his new schtick as a national broadcaster. Or, feared that, at any minute, Pat McAfee would invade your screen as part of his one-man takeover of football broadcasting.

Only in the NFL can the caked-up talent in the booth command as much attention as the showmen on the field. And, in some cases, just as much money. For that, their game — analyzing randomness and violence and doing so without offending our intelligence — has become as important to the American audience as The Game.

Wild, right? Because if any sport could get away with pairing some guy who peaked in Pop Warner with just a chirping sound of a smoke detector on low battery, it would be the NFL. The numbers reveal America would watch anyway. Last season, across the league, an average of 18.7 million viewers watched regular season games, the second-highest figure since 1988. Shoot, put me in a booth with a leaf blower, and I’d bet we’d still get five million to tune in.

So, did NBC’s “Sunday Night Football” really need to enhance its coverage with Tomlin, the former Pittsburgh Steelers coach known for sprinkling his ‘Tomlinisms’ throughout his no-nonsense press conferences? Not at all, but that didn’t stop the network from presenting him with a backloaded contract, presumably worth eight figures, that’s intended to keep Tomlin on air for years to come.

Although networks must understand that the audience could truly just press the mute button and watch in silence, the contracts for these broadcasters keep getting sillier and sillier. One day, defensive end Maxx Crosby, the Las Vegas Raiders’ highest-paid player in annual salary, can truly say he’s made it once he starts pulling in Tom Brady money. Just as Fox’s lead analyst alone, Brady, also a minority owner with the Raiders, makes $37.5 million a year, compared to Crosby’s $35.5 million.

McAfee, who’s on ESPN more times than the actual letters E, S, P and N, reportedly is in talks with the network to increase his pay to north of $60 million a year. This fall, McAfee adds “Monday Night Countdown” to his growing list of side hustles. Great, anything to keep him from dropping another album.

Also, Joe Buck, who calls games for $15 million at ESPN, will be in line for a major raise once his contract ends this year. Considering how networks keep printing money, then expect Buck to set a new standard for every silky-voiced baritone out there. Just make sure they’re calling NFL games, because few modern-day broadcasters from other leagues hold such cultural weight.

For far too many years, the most popular NBA analysts ran off vibes and nostalgia (correct pronunciation of foreign players’ names, not included). And several of the traditionalists who still talk about MLB can be so protective of their game that they might advocate for a bench-clearing brawl if anyone dared to break one of their unwritten rules. For their audience, however, the rich guys on the set for NFL games do offer the rare consistency of entertainment and enlightenment.

They’re educators. At their best, they might hold the audience’s hand while sharing a peek behind the curtain, the way Brady did last season when he shared the secret to quarterbacks throwing the ball in windy games. Or, they might even split the audience into a love-hate crowd but still hold our fascination, as Cris Collinsworth has perfected with his easy-to-impersonate obsession with Patrick Mahomes. These calls, made by men of no consequence to the actual game, trend on Twitter as much as the highlights on the field.

On Wednesday night, when the Super Bowl champion Seattle Seahawks hosted the New England Patriots, Tomlin earned positive headlines because he was charming enough during his TV debut. Again, just the fact that Coach looked 10 years younger, and happy (!), made for decent television. He also offered just enough candor, like when he admitted how he would not have chosen the San Francisco 49ers’ travel plans ahead of their game in Melbourne.

That matchup, played Thursday night on Netflix, introduced a freshly minted Hall of Famer, Luke Kuechly, to the world.

For those observers with trained and patient ears, or just those trained to root for anyone doing color other than Romo, Kuechly passed the test. He employed his vast knowledge during replays. He only goofed up once by saying “Puka Nakooey.” He showed hints of chemistry with his booth partner Noah Eagle — although whenever Netflix went with a two-shot, the still-hulking linebacker swallowed up the frame and looked as if he’d give the diminutive Eagle a wedgie and shove him into a locker. He also, and this is the most important element for any broadcaster, didn’t go viral.

Kuechly stayed in his lane, sometimes not even speaking at all after Eagle set him up. Almost 27 seconds of silence passed after Eagle called the game’s first touchdown, 27 seconds in which Kuechly could’ve said something, anything, as a way of analyzing Kyren Williams’ rushing touchdown. Instead, we heard a Rams lineman screaming “Let’s go!” from the end zone, and the Melbourne Cricket Ground loudspeakers playing “The Next Episode” by Dr. Dre in honor of L.A. At least Kuechly didn’t step on the call, the way Tony Romo infamously did in Super Bowl LVIII.

Since football’s here again, we can theorize whether or not Romo will ever win back his $18 million-a-year job at CBS. Or, we’ll marvel at Al Michaels mocking the president’s executive order on Prime and telling viewers to “read the news,” because he’s 81 years old, paid $15 million annually, and just doesn’t care anymore. But we care, simply because every little thing in the NFL keeps us utterly captivated, whether it’s a leaf blower or a Hall of Fame linebacker telling us about third-and-short run defense.