As the ad-free quarter is being hyped, let’s look back at NBC’s most audacious NFL broadcast ever: an event without announcers.

It claims that on Saturday night, when the NFL game airs on Peacock, NBC Sports will make broadcast history by showing the fourth quarter without any commercial breaks.

Instead, more than 12 minutes of “game-related content” will be shown during the Buffalo Bills vs. Los Angeles Chargers game from SoFi Stadium, according to NBC. This content will include “content takeovers” from different segments of the broadcast, including sideline reporter Melissa Stark, booth jockeys Mike Tirico and Cris Collinsworth, and feature content that has been planned well in advance.

It’s a lovely gesture for fans, who really don’t need to be reminded yet again that they may have their way at BK or else they run the chance of becoming parents if they don’t get the right house insurance. Additionally, it’s a creative approach to draw attention to a game that will be the first playoff game to be exclusively streamed a few weeks after it airs on a subscription service.

However, this is neither the first nor the most egregious instance of NBC tampering with the NFL’s sacred airwaves.

It also doesn’t compare to the day that NBC decided to remain silent.

NFL STATS CENTRAL: Up-to-date NFL schedules, stats, odds, and more.

Don Ohlmeyer, a trailblazing TV sports executive, first proposed the concept of a game broadcast without announcers in 1980. Before he would make that move, there were a few requirements, chief among them being that the game had to be worthless, or at least as useless as an NFL game could be.

Enter the 4-11 New York Jets and the 7-8 Miami Dolphins, who would play their final game of the season on December 20 with little bearing on the postseason. (And, sure, young people, you used to be able to complete a 16-game season before Christmas and a whole season before February.)

It was a more sedate time in many respects.

It was very much an unofficial niche activity, fantasy football. There was no NFL Network, and ESPN, which had only been around for a year, instead of an ocean of commentary based on the previous week’s game results, wallpapered its weekday programming with fishing, collegiate sports, and other random events.

Uwe von Schamann, the placekicker for the Dolphins, set the stage and launched Ohlmeyer’s experiment onto American television screens in this very setting.

Watching the game aired now, in all its low-definition beauty, still overloads the senses, as if the lack of a Don Criqui or Dick Enberg on the mike somehow improves the viewer’s other senses. Even though only 41,000 spectators turned out to watch the teams play out the string at the Orange Bowl, the ambient crowd noise never goes away. Efforts to capture more pad-popping and trash-talking with on-field microphones were unsuccessful, but the rhythm of the game flows with the anticipation of the crowd before every play.

Since the public address announcer’s voice is coordinated with the broadcast, closing your eyes will make it seem as though you’re strolling down the concourse, hot dog in hand, and making your way back to your seat quickly. The PA speaker and the on-screen visuals, which are rudimentary by today’s standards, work in bizarre unison to inform us that Ed Taylor’s interception of Richard Todd was his third of the season and that the return was good for 14 yards.

No commentator tells us that “when the Jets got to midfield, you just had a feeling they’d take a shot down the field in the passing game” when Todd finds Wesley Walker for a 47-yard completion that sets up the first score of the game.

Is this loss tangible?

In a game played without commentators, Richard Todd and the New York Jets defeated the Miami Dolphins to close up the 1980 season.
Still, the project received mixed responses even if it was declared a success. As stated by the Washington Post, “the telecast required too much work from viewers, who couldn’t unwind and look away from their sets, or walk away if they wanted to stay on top of the action.” In a foreshadowing of sorts, Enberg—who, five weeks later, would call Super Bowl XV on NBC—said, “They made the same mistake we announcers often make; they didn’t give us enough flashes of the score and time remaining in game.”

Of course, that issue would be resolved a quarter of a century later with the introduction of the “Fox Box,” which made it possible for fans to always know the score, the inning, and the time on the clock during almost every sports telecast.

This raises the question of whether the “Silent Game” was innovative for its period.

Imagine that arrangement in the high-def era, where Fox’s score bug provides the quarterback’s stats in addition to the score. Replays happen quite quickly. Moments after a play ends, graphics are recreated and have the ability to convey a tale.

Game presenters are frequently forced to merely repeating what is displayed on the screen—Patrick Mahomes is 5 for 5 on throws that fly more than 25 yards in the air, for example—because networks can become fixated on “next-gen” analytics and similar information.

That is not to imply that the seven-figure jobs held by the Tiricos, Collinsworths, and Kevin Burkhardts are at risk or ought to be. Even while social media has made it possible for viewers to voice their disapproval of what they see on TV in real time, a dispassionate analysis by Greg Olsen will reveal far more to laypeople than what our unaided eyes could possibly see.

Nevertheless, the sector is changing. The Manningcast version of “Monday Night Football” has received positive reviews and is a refreshing take on traditional broadcasting. Fans will have a variety of ways to watch the 2017 College Football Playoff, including an all-22 view without commentators. (If marching band music is your thing, this feed is for you.)

Additionally, viewers who already choose “second screen” experiences that either enhance or detract from the broadcast can benefit from less noise.

Of course, there’s also space in the middle. Bryant Gumbel, the studio host, plays the role of consigliere during the 1980 “Silent Game” broadcast. He periodically stops by to provide a breakdown of the score and reassure viewers that they are not witnessing a disaster akin to the War of the Worlds without broadcasters.

There is nothing keeping networks in this day and age from insisting that a Gene Stertzer should always be on hand to define a catch. When necessary, a sideline reporter could also step in to provide context for a crucial play, performance, or injury.

Remember that on Saturday night, when a gift to the audience—no advertisements—will lead to a lot more chitchat. The coalition of viewers who are eager for more Collinsworth in their lives will be ecstatic about the extra material, which will undoubtedly be thoughtfully planned and produced.

However, be aware that on a Saturday afternoon in December, something much more radical once took center stage—an experiment whose time may yet come.