You always play for the touchdown. That’s what Dave Pasch insisted with Arizona State on the verge of punching its ticket to the Big 12 championship game in late November at home.
“You win the game if you get in the end zone,” Pasch said on the ESPN broadcast. “Go score.”
Yet with the ball inside the 10 and a narrow lead over BYU, Arizona State quarterback Sam Leavitt went backward. Head coach Kenny Dillingham chose to run out the clock rather than end the game with a touchdown. The conservative choice felt out of place in Tempe, where Dillingham had overseen one of the most surprising seasons in college football.
Opposite Pasch in the booth, analyst Dusty Dvoracek played Sun Devil’s advocate.
“They put themselves at no risk whatsoever,” Dvoracek said.
Dillingham’s strategy backfired as Leavitt misfired his throwaway and gave BYU the ball back for a final play. But not before the Arizona State faithful stormed the field and had to be cleared back into the tunnel by star running back Cam Skattebo, with those standing on the outskirts of the field standing in for a fanbase ready to embrace their team.
At the same time, the ESPN booth stood in for the debates in living rooms throughout Arizona and Utah. Dvoracek wanted fans to understand Arizona State’s strategy, while Pasch saw an obvious path toward victory. Their debate helped fans see the messy ending clearly, but set them apart on air.
“If someone’s listening, they could be like, ‘That’s going to be an interesting car ride to the airport,’ but it wasn’t,” Dvoracek tells Awful Announcing about a month later. “What I thought it did was give a very full, well-rounded broadcast.’”
Bizarre finish in Tempe.
Part 1:
Leading 28-23 with seven seconds left, ASU elects to have QB Sam Leavitt throw the ball away, thinking it will run the clock out.
When he does, the fans immediately storm the field. pic.twitter.com/UjvCuPXrYy
— Awful Announcing (@awfulannouncing) November 24, 2024
The basic job of an announcer in that situation is to explain: the game situation, the strategy, the stakes. What Pasch does feels more like evaluation. For 20-plus years on ESPN and Arizona Cardinals radio broadcasts, Pasch tells the story of the game while holding everyone competing accountable in real-time.
The Sun Devils did something puzzling with a shot at victory. So Pasch said so.
“I think that’s what makes a good broadcast,” Dvocarek says. “Dave isn’t questioning me, he isn’t questioning my thought process, he’s questioning that situation. And one thing about Dave is he is not afraid to give his opinion, and give it strong.”
That sense of authority sets Pasch apart and has served him well over a career that spans decades and many sports. Pasch is a prominent voice in the NFL and NBA as well as college basketball and football. He has called games with as unique a stable as anyone, from the beloved Bill Walton to Hubie Brown. When he booms out a huge touchdown call or hazards against in-game gaffes, fans listen. It earned him a spot calling the first-ever home College Football Playoff game at the University of Texas this weekend. But it isn’t the way Pasch learned to call games.
A powerful speaker by trade, Pasch found his way by listening.
Out of Syracuse, Pasch idolized the alums on the walls: Bob Costas, Ian Eagle, Mike Tirico, and Sean McDonough. He borrowed from them and buttoned himself up to get where they were. But in early stops with Fox Sports and Syracuse football, Pasch began to realize calling a great game meant chasing a moving target. That target followed the analyst.
“It took me a few years to realize that, and then once I did, a few years later Bill comes along,”
That would be Walton, the basketball icon who floated above games and called around them. In his second stint at ESPN, Walton settled in as the voice of the Pac-12, or the Conference of Champions, as he lovingly called it until he passed away this year at 71.
“I think early on he was even trying to see if they would fire him again by just saying things and throwing it out there,” Pasch says. “He would even take shots at me, and I didn’t get upset. I didn’t care or take it personally at first, and I think he was kind of surprised by that.”
Walton’s former teammates told Pasch he could take what he was dishing. So Pasch dished.
“He got me to a place where I could take what I learned early as a broadcaster … to now taking it to this level where now you’re not just adjusting to your analyst, you’re adjusting to a whole new way of broadcasting,” Pasch says.
Bill Walton educates Dave Pasch about the earth’s axial tilt and rotation around the sun. With props! pic.twitter.com/pyA3GVR77e
— CJ Fogler 🫡 (@cjzero) December 22, 2017
By that time, Pasch had nearly a decade under his belt with a different analyst who also had a heap of personality. In 2004, a former Arizona Cardinals fullback joined the radio broadcast, replacing John Mistler.
Ron Wolfley interviewed for the analyst job when Pasch took over play-by-play in 2001, and they clicked instantly. But the station stuck with the veteran Mistler for three more seasons before the two ultimately got to work.
Wolfley brings locker room hype to the headset. Arizona fans know him for bellowing sports takes over “Walk” by Pantera on his local radio show. It’s not much different on the Cardinals broadcast.
During a mid-December home broadcast of an Arizona win over New England, Wolfley is doubled up with a Cardinals polo and a Cardinals hoodie. The crowd’s energy pulls a stray “LET’S GO” from his mouth heading toward kickoff. Four minutes later, he growls:
“Someone give me a mouthguard.”
And away they go.

In the booth, Pasch and Wolfley make a broadcast feel like doubles tennis, each reflexively finding openings where the other makes space.
After two major Cardinals injuries in the first three minutes including star linebacker Mack Wilson getting knocked out on-field, the two are jarred. They get positive updates from the producer in their ear and refocus on the game.
They patter between the television feeds in front of them and the game unfolding on-field. Wolfley mentions a near Chiefs loss to Carolina. Before he even has the chance to trail off, Pasch comes with a follow-up on Patrick Mahomes’ sprained ankle.
After a late second-quarter drive featuring multiple penalties that lead Arizona to settle for a field goal, Pasch declares “The Cardinals are falling apart.” When Kyler Murray lasers a pass into the endzone with no shot at the receiver’s outstretched hands, Pasch and Wolfley meet eyes and roll them in unison.
The Cardinals win an uninspiring game against the measly Patriots, 30-17.
Off-air, Wolfley is more reserved. Their closeness comes from mutual respect and a shared faith.
“It’s the baseline, it’s the foundation, it’s the respect that we have for one another because of the faith that we share,” Wolfley says. “It’s one of the reasons our friendship is so strong, is it’s built on that. Which is why we can say anything to each other and not get butthurt.”
The two share meals and jokes around games. Two days before the Patriots game, Wolfley attended Pasch’s daughter’s wedding. They have worked together throughout life.
Dvoracek has only four years with Pasch but has already forged a strong bond of his own.
“He’s the longest play-by-play person that I’ve worked with in my nine years at ESPN, and we’ve got the closest relationship with anyone that I’ve had a chance to work with as well,” Dvoracek says. “He’s made me a better person, a better man.”
Dvoracek came to his partnership with Pasch a bit green and very intense. A former defensive tackle, he comes from the Wolfley school of hits and rah-rah.
During games, all that nervous energy has to go somewhere. So Dvoracek jitters and sways. Once Pasch noticed and needled him on it, Dvoracek accepted his mission.
“I’ve got a lot of juice, I’ve got a lot of energy. Probably Dave is a little more subtle,” Dvoracek says. “He can kind of be a little bit more level, and I think I have a tendency to amp him up and bring him up. I force him to try to match my energy and my juice on a daily basis.”

The weeks in unknown cities throughout the fall and winter can be dispiriting. Learning from each other and caring is an antidote. Where Pasch laughs at Dvoracek’s nervous energy, Dvoracek pesters Pasch about his impressive susceptibility to the cold. The play-by-play man wears long-john pants and sweats under his suit pants in particularly cold cities.
Traveling around the country calling these college football games, Dvoracek and Pasch have become movie buddies. From the James Bond saga to Three Amigos and Airplane, they meet in a hotel room and cook up popcorn like kids at a sleepover.
This is the pattern with everyone Pasch works with. The great Hubie Brown emphasized the importance of chemistry to Pasch.
“He is a big believer in the chemistry you build off the air is what leads to a great broadcast,” Pasch says. “That’s one of the things among many that I agree with him on. I think it’s really important to having a great show and being connected with your broadcast partner. I think the more time you spend with the person you’re working with leads to better chemistry on the air.”
From movie nights to weddings to dinners with Hubie, that work is equally as important to Pasch as a gameday. Walton doesn’t get sole credit for that embrace, but Pasch may not have been ready for it without him.
Walton’s passing came quickly this year. The cancer took over suddenly. Pasch didn’t know their last broadcast would in fact be their last.
The timing was surreal, given the dissolution of the Pac-12 the same summer.
“We just assumed we would continue on together in some way, shape or form, so when Bill passed, it was like, ‘wow this is really over,’” Pasch says.
Dave Pasch shares memories and stories with Rich Eisen of working alongside longtime broadcasting partner Bill Walton. 🎙️❤️
(via @RichEisenShow) pic.twitter.com/il0eWzpTpS
— Awful Announcing (@awfulannouncing) May 29, 2024
Looking past the “bittersweet” feelings of celebrating 20 years at ESPN while saying goodbye to Walton and continuing a career without him, Pasch is thrilled at the opportunity to be involved with a historic first CFP in Austin this weekend.
“Theres nothing like doing a playoff game. When it’s do or die, win or go home. And we’ve got one,” Pasch says. “It’s the most excited I’ve been for an assignment in a long time.”
Looser now, there’s one discomfort Pasch hasn’t shaken all these years.
The chip on his shoulder.
There’s nothing like a playoff game, yes, so best to nail it.
“I still feel like every game I do, I have to prove that I belong,” Pasch says. “I feel like a lot of play-by-play guys probably feel that, because you’re really only as good as the last game you did.”
But what does that mean when being good can be uncomfortable? When being great means evolving?
Calling games becomes about openness and giving, rather than perfection.
The audience hears what Pasch creates with his partners, with his brothers, giving back what Walton entreated him.
The last game is decided between them; in hotel rooms with popcorn or over a nice steak. The work is measured in how much of himself he gives.
“I’ve always got to keep proving that I belong in the seat that I’m in.”