No doubt, if you watch even a few minutes of sports-related broadcasting on TV in a week, you've seen those Coors Light commercials where former NFL coaches are featured in mock press conferences, answering questions from a trio of Joe Fan-types who want to know answers to beer questions, not football questions.

Can't miss 'em. They're on almost as often as those ads for those little blue pills, which will be the topic of another missive at some point.

Well, I was saddened earlier this week to see old friend Romeo Crennel, the former head coach of the Cleveland Browns and long-time member of the Parcells-Belichick "coaching tree," featured in the latest Coors Light ad.

Why saddened, you ask? You see, you can't be in them unless you've failed in your primary job - which is why we've seen the likes of Brian Billick, Dennis Green, Jim Mora, Mike Ditka and Herm Edwards in those spots. Only Bill Parcells and Dick Vermeil, who've also appeared in the ads, walked away from coaching by their own choice.

At least in a football sense, I'd think it would be kind of embarrassing for your labors of many years to eventually be trivialized into mere shilling for a watery beer. A couple of disclaimers here - first, I've got nothing against MillerCoors, the parent company of the Coors brands of beers. Indeed, I'm quite fond of Coors. When I went to college in the 1970s, Coors was still an urban myth to much of the nation, distributed to only a small region of the nation near the Rockies, yet its distinctive taste prompted thousands of people to "bootleg" the stuff home with them when traveling from the West, or to ask friends to do so. United Airlines' flights out of Denver to the east were called "beer wagons" because their baggage compartments contained so many cases of Coors.

The second disclaimer is very important. I know a large segment of the readership of this column is under the drinking age, so I want it made clear that in no way am I advocating underage drinking because I'm mentioning beer and beer commercials in this one. As the slogan says, "21 means 21."

With that out of the way, I suppose I shouldn't feel so bad for Romeo Crennel. After all, he had to agree to appear in the spots before they could be produced, and he's well-paid for it. So if he didn't want to make that icy cold Rocky Mountain coin, he could have just said "no," as former Steelers' coach Bill Cowher reportedly did.

But I still think it's maddening to see things that actually transpired taken and repackaged in a manner that makes a mockery of the individuals featured in the ads, as well as the profession that made the footage possible in the first place.

The NFL has a deal with MillerCoors that allows the brewer to use the recordings of NFL press conferences for advertising purposes once the coaches in them aren't coaching any more. The ex-coaches are approached for permission to use their likenesses and words from the original press conferences (for generous compensation, I might add), and once that's given, the ad agency shoots the footage of the mock press conferences and tailors the script to mesh with the actual responses to "real" reporters' questions in press conferences that may have taken place years ago.

The last step is to digitally remove the original backdrop behind the coach and replace it with one covered with Coors Light logos. The technology is such that you'd never think the film you're viewing isn't exactly as it happened, which is disturbing enough in its own right.

But then again, I've never been a fan of "green screen" technology being used in real-life circumstances, like those ads for pharmaceutical products or upcoming TV shows that appear behind the batter, catcher and umpire during baseball broadcasts. Fans in the stands see only blank screens while TV viewers are being bombarded by not-so-subliminal ads.

Admittedly, some of the Coors Light coaching ads have been funny, but that all depends upon how animated the coach may have been in his real press conferences. For that reason, I can't even begin to imagine Bill Belichick ever agreeing to appear in these commercials - but I suppose I should never say never. Fred Kirsch, the editor of Patriots Football Weekly, recently wrote that he could never see Tedy Bruschi taking a job in television upon his retirement, and the edition in which that editorial ran appeared for the first time on the newsstands two days after Bruschi had taken a job at ESPN.

What's more, if I was the account manager for the ad agency piecing together these commercials, Belichick would be my greatest challenge and my worst nightmare rolled into one. Belichick doesn't rant, and the most popular Coors Light coach ads have featured coaches who've ranted at reporters for one reason or another.

Think back to Spygate, and Belichick's constant repetitions of "We're moving forward," and "I'm only concerned about the San Diego Chargers." Nothing there to sell beer, is there? Another thing that bothers me about these ads is how the coaches' ranting responses were generated. Real reporters had to ask the questions that set off the coaches, yet I've yet to hear about the first dollar being paid to reporters for asking the incendiary questions that provided the ad agency with the can't-miss footage.

Who knows? One day I may see Parcells, Pete Carroll or even Belichick selling beer with the words they used to answer a question of mine, and they'll be sitting comfortably in the fishing boats they bought with the Coors Light loot while I'll still be shelling out $7 for a six-pack.

That just doesn't seem fair. Neither does the concept of becoming richer because you were fired from something, but I suppose that's one of the things that makes this a great country - and reason enough for me to stop crying in my beer over it.

MARK FARINELLA may be reached at 508-236-0315 or via e-mail at mfarinel@thesunchronicle.com. Read Farinella's blog, "Blogging Fearlessly," at thesunchronicle.com/farinella.