Broadcasters' silent partner is never short of fast facts

Just six outs to go. The New York Mets were cruising into the World Series, rolling toward a showdown with the New York Yankees. A Subway Series - first in 44 years - loomed.

As the TV screen filled with the face of Met Manager Bobby Valentine, announcer Joe Buck delivered the perfect historical connection: Valentine, Buck noted, is married to the daughter of Ralph Branca, the old Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher. Interesting, yes, but relevant?

Wait, Buck had more: Branca was the starter in the '47 World Series, the one that began the last great New York baseball epoch, with seven Subway Series in 10 years.

The author of the anecdote was actually sitting to Buck's immediate left, invisible to anyone watching or listening to the game on TV, and had fed it to Buck a few seconds before its broadcast.

Officially, Steve Horn is an editorial consultant for Fox's World Series coverage, Fox's Sunday NFL show and NBC's NBA game of the week. Unofficially, he's the man behind the men behind the microphones. He's the guy with the fast fact, the historical analogy, the vital data point that helps Buck or NBC's Bob Costas illuminate what's happening on the field. If the announcers sound omniscient at times, score one for Horn.

Is Roger Clemens losing something off his fastball? Horn knows because he's talked to the scouts about it. Is Paul O'Neill's hamstring acting up? Horn probably had a conversation about that with the Yankees' trainer that morning.

Broadcast pros like Costas and Buck do their own research and have plenty of sports smarts. But they rely on Horn for that little something extra. Costas, who has worked with him since 1982, calls him "an enhancer - he's another set of eyes, a different perspective. He's the guy I want nearby when something happens and you're asking, `Has that ever happened?' Or `When was the last time that happened?' "

The lanky Horn, 50, who has the flowing hair of an aging rock star, usually stations himself next to Buck or Costas during a game. Horn rarely talks with the announcer; he communicates instead by hand gesture, head nod and sometimes, he says, "by telepathy." About once an inning, Horn will pass an index card scrawled with a handwritten comment - prompts for "themes" or story lines that Horn has previously discussed with the announcers.

A card with the word "Mantle" on it might suggest a little story about the late Yankee slugger Mickey Mantle. A controversial play could inspire Horn to cue color commentator Tim McCarver to recount a similar incident. The trick, Horn says, is knowing just the right moment to step in, and when to stay back.

"It's a sui generis sort of thing," Horn says in a gravelly, irregular cadence that demonstrates why he's not an announcer himself. "The guys I work with would thrive without me. That's got nothing to do with modesty. If I drop dead, they aren't going on the unemployment line. Ultimately, they integrate whatever I give them and make it better. It's easier to contribute to something that's already good."

Horn mines his tidbits and sporting intelligence through monklike workaholism. He works seven days a week and never vacations. Once baseball season ends, he's on to football. When that's over, he's researching basketball. When the seasons overlap he'll do both.

Single and childless, Horn lives in his native St. Louis, working out of a crammed home office that would, he acknowledges, attract the attention of a fire marshal. Much of the week he's on the road.

"He's totally married to this," says Buck, who has worked with Horn since 1994. "If you go to his hotel room, you'll find the Do Not Disturb sign on the door and one room-service tray after another. He'll have every edition of every local paper inside."

Says Horn: "I have a tendency to overprepare a lot. I don't want to be caught short on the air."

Horn's quick mind beats a quick computer any day. Although he has an Internet-ready computer at his fingertips during games, Horn relies primarily on a prodigious memory and printed sources, such as the Baseball Encyclopedia.

"A lot of times on the air, 8 seconds is a long time to wait for a piece of information," he says. "I can't call up the right (Web page) in 8 seconds, but I can flip open a book to the right page."

Horn has an extensive network of contacts to pump for information: players, coaches, general managers, scouts.

Neither Costas nor Buck can recall an instance in which Horn was inaccurate, a considerable achievement given the speed with which he must come up with a pertinent fact.

"The great thing about Steve," Costas says, "is that he knows the difference between facts and insights. Any information drone can give you facts. Facts are everywhere. . . . What's really valuable is that he helps you make connections."