Each year here at the MLBlog/Seventh Inning Scratch, we run out a list of baseball’s worst broadcasters. And each year, we meticulously document the myriad retardations of its perennial honorees: Joe Morgan’s inability or unwillingness to acknowledge that the game has changed since 1976, Eric Byrnes’ loopy “Forrest Gump” act that apparently isn’t an act, Tim McCarver’s compulsion to express the same thought 32 different ways (“see, he pivoted off his left foot. If you look at his left foot, right there, you can see he pivoted off it. The pivot came off his foot—the left one.”).

Well, no more. We’re done complaining about inept and indifferent baseball broadcasters, analysts and in-studio nudniks like Morgan, McCarver and Byrnes. There’s no point in wasting our breath. Why? Four reasons:

1. Thanks to MLB.com’s broadcast package, we realize that Morgan et al are no worse than the other dummyheads working their magic before a home-market audience: My God, have you ever heard David Cone attempt to explain why a pitcher is throwing from the stretch with no runners on base? Thirty seconds into the oft-repeated monologue, you can practically hear his booth partners strangling themselves with their microphone cords. Or how about Ken “Hawk” Harrelson, who likely had to be treated for cardiac arrest in the wake of his “yes! yes! yes! yes!”-gasm following Mark Buehrle’s perfect game? We have no problem with so-called homers; we have a big problem with homers who count coining catchphrases among their primary job responsibilities.

It is hard to call or comment on a baseball game in a way that appeals to a wide range of fans. We get this. It’s still amazing how few of the 90-odd guys entrusted with the job simply don’t bother to do their homework.

2. We’ve come to expect so little from them: Years of mangled names (ever hear Ralph Kiner attempt to pronounce “Tom Paciorek”?) and David Eckstein worship (he makes up in heart what he lacks in height, strength, instincts and athletic ability, etc.) have numbed us. There’s literally nothing a baseball broadcaster can say—about how clutch hitting is a skill that can be taught, about how clean-up hitters should be asked to bunt, whatever—that will rouse us from our low-expectations coma.

When we come across a broadcaster who not only has opinions but can express them without shrieking or blaspheming a major world religion, we’re pleasantly surprised. It’s like spotting a polar bear, or a Democrat, in Texas. Ron Darling, take a bow.

3. We don’t need them as much as we used to: We can get real-time commentary on the web from pundits and fans who are articulate, obsessive and enormously well-informed. We can get trade scoops and anecdotes via Twitter. Similarly, Johnny Tech-Enabled Fan and Jimmy Tech-Savvy Pundit are more than happy to point us in the direction of smart commentary and wildly entertaining video clips that we might not have found on our own. The spirit of sharing, as much as anything else, has made this the best time in the history of the sport to be a baseball fan.

4. Steve Phillips has usurped all those other guys as the game’s preeminent media ass-monkey: Phillips has long been ESPN’s gimmick guy, the one used as the point man during fake press conferences and asked to debate himself on a range of inanities. We were fine with him in this role: whenever he headlined a segment, we went elsewhere.

But then the network had the tragic idea to place him in the Sunday night broadcast booth, alongside earth-is-square mainstay Joe Morgan and glutton for punishment Jon Morgan. Since then, he’s uttered any number of phrases and unleashed any number of “explanations” that were comically stupid and completely irrelevant at the same time. My favorite was this gem about Carlos Beltran, which came during a Phillips monologue gently criticizing him: “In his own world, he’s a very good player.” Yeah. It’s that bad. For a much more thorough Phillips deconstruction, click here.

That is all.