Commentator without censorship: backstage, hate and inconvenient truth – Mateusz Święcicki

Święcicki explains that he has a simple 'patent': he lets his co-commentator know in advance, and then during the match he quietly counts the seconds. He believes that giving the audience a break is essential, and that German commentary’s extreme minimalism (up to two-minute silences) is also too much; he prefers an emotionally engaged style, so this is a middle ground.

He recalls a recent FC Barcelona match where a player was sent off amid chaos; his first instinct was to name the wrong player. Because he held back, he avoided an error that would have required an embarrassing correction. He generalises that an experienced commentator learns to separate immediate impulse from informed judgment, and that this skill separates good pros from great ones.

He says this ritual is borrowed from Lewandowski's mindset, whom he interviewed. The phrase is deliberately crude ('opierdolić' ~ 'fucking do it') to bypass overthinking and trigger a state of focused aggression. He contrasts this with the post-match comedown when confidence can vanish instantly.

He notes that this is a deliberate tactic, not shyness; he describes himself as generally silent at home, to the point his fiancée remarks that he comes home to rest from all the talking. The technique allows him to be present without draining his social battery.

He applied this to Włodzimierz Szaranowicz, a legendary Polish commentator he adored as a child. Święcicki only briefly met him but never pursued a deeper relationship, considering it the worst thing you can do. He extends this to other aspirational figures, preferring to leave them in the realm of imagination.

Święcicki receives many messages from teenagers asking how to succeed; he always responds by pointing them to Google. He lists numerous interviews with prominent journalists—Świąkała, Borek, Pełka, etc.—where all answers are already given. He refuses to spoon-feed because it would rob them of the essential skill of resourcefulness.

He argues that the first step actually requires the least experience and often happens with naive enthusiasm, whereas later obstacles demand composure under pressure, resilience after failures, and the ability to maintain quality when monotony sets in. This view comes from his own career: getting the first commentary gig at 21 was a matter of luck and help from mentors, but surviving in the industry for 17 years required constant adaptation, handling public criticism, and repeatedly proving his worth.

Święcicki explains that younger commentators often overcompensate to be noticed, especially when entering a new station that challenged an established player (like Eleven Sports vs Canal+). This 'look at me' energy can lead to premature judgments and unnecessary noise. With maturity, a commentator learns to wait for replays before evaluating incidents, to select moments for genuine excitement rather than constant hype, and to be confident enough to let silence speak. He cites Mateusz Borek as someone who, at 50+, set a new standard and influenced a generation.

He notes that many accomplished writers he knows now produce only video, and that the skill of writing, while still valuable for some like Łukasz Olkowicz, won't sustain a career on its own. The market demands video, so young journalists who neglect camera presence are outpaced by teenagers who have been running their own channels for years. He sees this evolution not as his invention but as an undeniable economic reality.

He applies the same principle to his idol Włodzimierz Szaranowicz: he purposely avoided close contact to prevent the disillusionment that often follows meeting heroes. The idea is that an unfulfilled dream acts as a permanent source of wonder, and that the worst thing you can do is meet your idols because the fantasy never survives reality. He acknowledges that this may change as he ages (he still has 12 years until 50), but for now he clings to this zone of mystery.

Święcicki explains that his father and mother instilled a 'duty first' mentality. When he got the call, he considered what his father would do and decided to go live. He kept the news from his co-commentator Sebastian to prevent him from being thrown off. The match ended 0-0 with a controversial penalty call; Święcicki barely saw the game, yet no viewer noticed anything amiss. He later reflected that facing a crisis of that magnitude proved that he could withstand almost any professional pressure.