The Voice of the Ivy League on ESPN+

Keanan Clark and Tommy Lindeman settled into their padded chairs at the announcers’ desk, donned their headsets and began their mic checks.

“Check one, two, check one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and so on and so forth.”

For their second year in a row, Clark and Lindeman announced the home races for all the Princeton rowing teams on Lake Carnegie. A seven-week commitment, the pair were what some of the more ignorant in the league would call “seasoned veterans”.

Clearing their throats, the two Princeton alumni began their vocal exercises before go-time. Unfortunately for this journalist, Clark and Lindeman were on vocal rest, and so could not answer any questions.

But the fans provided enough context for us to write this story.

“We love tuning in and watching the chuckleheads every week,” said one international viewer from Montenegro. “It seems like every time a boat heads down the course, they’ll have some sort of back-and-forth that gets them tied up with chuckles for a large portion of the race, before remembering they have to get back to commentating.”

The widely watched “giggliest announcers on ESPN” didn’t start with commentating on the biggest broadcaster of sports.

Clark has been providing play-by-play commentary for the Princeton Tigers for several years, though it began as more of a “pirate radio” broadcast run by the rowing programs. Eventually, the University saw the huge viewership numbers and decided to work out a deal to get the pirate on ESPN.

With the elevated reach, Clark knew he wasn’t up to the challenge to do it himself, so in 2023 he tapped former colleague and former expert, Lindeman, to join him in the media launch every week. In wind and rain, they drove alongside the racing crews, providing inaccurate insights and the occasional tidbit of knowledge.

With this new platform came a repositioning. No longer referring to themselves by name, they began presenting themselves as “The Voice of the Ivy League on ESPN.” They hired former Princeton coach and namesake of the Gartland Goblet race, Joe Gartland, as Director of Branding. Gartland pushed them to think outside the box, to reach for new heights, and, most importantly, to expand the brand. With the guidance of their “Third Voice,” they did.

But still, the fans clamored for more, and the University answered. With 2024 came an increased budget, additional support staff, and a full level-up in technology.

No longer sitting in the launch on the water, the duo were moved to the University’s broadcasting booth in the basement of Jadwin Gym. Replete with chairs, a desk, monitors, and cough buttons, Clark and Lindeman finally hit the big time. The biggest change was realizing at the end of the day they were still dry.

The Princeton coaches have enjoyed the increased investment as much as the fans at home.

“Clark and Lindeman are great,” said one coach anonymously. “They almost always get the event names right, and are able to read the schedule near-flawlessly. It’s pretty close to being better than the alternative, which is dead air.”

Another coach also had nothing but praise: “Good for them! I know they both need a reason to get out of the house.”

Commentating for Princeton began when T. Heebink, the Tigers’ boathouse administrator, invited Clark to commentate from the media launch. The maestro behind all the regattas on Lake Carnegie. Heebink coordinates scheduling, travel logistics, quippy insights, even the Jersey Mike’s lunch order for volunteers at the end of the day. He was happy when Clark brought on Lindeman as his co-host since the increased popularity it brought led to a higher budget — and he also benefited from this year’s upgrades.

“It’s really hard to see when your head is in the clouds,” said Heebink, referring to his new role of cameraman in the Ford Family-sponsored hot air balloon. “But the fans seem to love the new angles. And as I always say, if you have to crash, make sure you can get up to crash again.”

Clark and Lindeman have developed a rapport over the last two seasons: Clark provides the play-by-play, and Lindeman provides the color commentary. Lindeman’s commentary is largely unprepared; he cannot seem to pronounce most of the rowers’ names, and even the “Johns” and “Smiths” give him trouble when trying to provide color. Clark is terrible at providing readings of distance between boats. Between the two, they are the only rowing announcers in the league that cannot reliably give accurate margins.

Somehow, it works for them.

A recent interview of the Princeton coaches by the IRA Rowing Insiders Podcast had the interviewers asking, “Where did you get commentators who refer to your rowers as ‘The Mailmen’ because they keep ‘sending it’?” The praise keeps coming from all sides.

Now that the season has finished, the fans have spoken: they want more. So look ahead to next spring for more commentary from Clark and Lindeman. Or, go visit their houses unannounced, where you’ll find them constantly providing commentary on other events, off-the-air. The very special VIP “narrowcasts” are reserved for only the lucky few, and see the pair giving play-by-play on things such as The Eras Tour (Taylor’s Version), WWE events, and each other’s performance in Rock Band 4.

What’s next for The Voice of the Ivy League on ESPN? They have already turned down several requests to cover other events, including the IRA National Championships this June.

Will we have to wait an entire year to hear from them again on ESPN?

Time will tell.

From the Archives: As the Prospect of Superpowers Comes Closer to Reality, Lindeman Hopes for the Best

Originally published August 1, 2011

On the morning of August 1, Tommy Lindeman, will be receiving a bone scan. The scan is a long process, beginning with the injection of radioactive dye into Lindeman’s system. Lindeman hopes that the addition of radioactive material to his system will result in the acquisition of supernatural abilities.

“Lots of great superheroes received their powers through radioactive materials,” said Lindeman on July 31. “Bruce Banner became The Hulk through gamma radiation, Matt Murdock became the Daredevil, the Fantastic Four were hit by cosmic radiation. Heck, even Alex Mack could turn into goo.”

The doctors’ ultimate goal for the bone scan is to take pictures of Lindeman’s skeleton and see if the dye has accumulated in any cracks or fissures in his bones. Lindeman’s ultimate goal is to become an immortal superhero. “I probably won’t fight crime or anything,” said Lindeman. “I’ll just live my life normally, keep my abilities secret, and use them whenever they could be advantageous.”

“Heat vision, flight, super strength, super speed, telekinesis, the ability to breathe underwater, regeneration, the Force,” said Lindeman, listing off just a few of the powers he’d like. “Shapeshifting, invisibility, those are cool, too. But I don’t want to talk to animals, that’s beneath me.”

Lindeman believes he could easily disguise his abilities if they are not too obvious. “I’m already pretty amazing now,” said Lindeman. “The powers would add to that, but to everyone else, they would just seem like a natural evolution. Also, I’m pretty easy to pick out of a crowd. It’d be too ridiculous to assume that the most visible person was hiding a secret identity.”

“I’m even open to the idea of having a drastic transformation of my body,” said Lindeman. “I’m not against becoming something totally unrecognizable, like The Lizard, The Thing, or Beast. I mean, sure, that’d be pretty inconvenient, but at least it’s something. Right?”

Lindeman must wait three hours between the radioactive dye injection and the actual scanning of his bones. He said that he’d probably spend the in-between time napping in his car.

“If the the mutation—in addition to giving me some sweet powers—happens to turn me insane,” said Lindeman, “that’s okay, too. Sure, I’ll go crazy and probably kill a bunch of people, yeah. But I’ll also have enough power to actually have the capacity to do something like that. Pretty awesome if you ask me. Not for the other people, though.”

Bone scans are a type of nuclear medicine that have been in use since the 1960s. Between then and now, there have been no cases of supernatural abilities being instilled in the patients of this procedure.

“Ultimately, I just want powers. Powers, and immortality. And a sidekick could be cool, after my adventures start getting stale. You know, to keep it fresh. So just powers, immortality, and a sidekick. That’s it. And maybe a kind of secret base or something.”

This will be Lindeman’s second bone scan. The first, though successful in diagnosing a broken rib, did not yield him any super powers.

From the Archives: Lindeman Develops Sunglass Tan

Originally published July 18, 2011

Five weeks into his 2011 summer vacation, Tommy Lindeman, knew he had a problem. “Something was up,” he said in an interview over the phone, “but it took me a while to put my finger on it.” Despite being out of school since the beginning of June, he didn’t realize his issue until he saw his reflection on July 16th. “I’ve got a sunglass tan.”

The contrast between the tan skin and the lines is as stark as the differences between night and day. “It’s pretty bad,” said Stephen Lindeman. “It is actually ridiculous. I didn’t like leaving the house with [T. Lindeman] before, but now I actively avoid it.”

T. Lindeman works as a lifeguard on the Jersey shore, spending time on the beach from 9:30 AM to 5:30 PM. “It’s really optimum bronzing time,” said Lindeman, “but obviously that can backfire.” He explained that a veteran guard tried to tell him the lines were a sign of pride. “He told me that when people see the lines, they’ll understand we’re guards and we’ve earned the funny looking skin tones. He’s wrong, though. People just see them and laugh, pointing and whispering behind their hands.”

“I should have seen the signs,” said Lindeman. “People began giving me funny looks as I passed by at night. Kate [Baker] started calling me ‘Raccoon Eyes.’ Some guy even came up to me and said, ‘Hey, you’ve got a really bad sunglass tan.’ I really did not see this coming.”

Along with the crazy face tan, Lindeman also has a dark tan on the front of his legs, but the backs of his thighs are very pale. “I sit on a lifeguard stand all day, there’s no way to turn over onto my stomach. If I lean forward, I can get my back in the sun, but the backs of my legs haven’t seen the sky all summer. And it looks pathetic.”

Lindeman forwarded a picture of his face to interviewers midway through the phone call. “What do you mean it’s not tan?!” exclaimed Lindeman when the interviewers commented on the color. “It totally is! That can’t be a sunburn!” After studying a mirror, he retracted that statement.

“It’s definitely all burn. I look like I’m constantly embarrassed. And I’m not. Well, not constantly. Actually, on second thought, it’s pretty constant. Probably an all-the-time sort of thing. Maybe it’s not actually sunburn, maybe I’m just embarrassed. Nope, some skin just came off, definitely burnt.”

Sunburn is a constant threat on the beach. T. Lindeman uses sunscreen with an SPF of 70. “We all make fun of him,” said Jack Lindeman, a fellow lifeguard. “Everyone else uses SPF 30. He waltzes around with zinc on his nose like a complete dork. He looks like a loser.”

Sunglass tans, also known as “raccoon eyes,” have become a sign of shame. They are commonly viewed as being tangible examples of “softness,” and they showcase an inability to take heat from the sun. People who sport this unsavory fashion are frequently regarded with disdain.

For Lindeman, there does not seem to be an end in sight. At the end of the phone call he began to break down. “It’s just so bright. All the time.” Interviewers quickly hung up because “it was just too damn depressing.”