We'll get to Cris Collinsworth in a minute, but first let's talk about imperial Rome. Contemporary depictions emphasize the debauchery of the era, usually by illustrating either competitive or persecutory bloodsport in the Colosseum. Ridley Scott's 2000 Oscar-winner for Best Picture suggested however that the thrill in watching another human being die was not without a thin thread of morality woven into the gladiatorial exhibition. The pollice verso, the emperor's turning thumb, offered a defeated competitor reprieve from death if his performance was judged by the spectators to be conducted with skill and valor. Usually this just meant a gladiator earned himself another day or two of living. But I'm guessing that when you were on your back with a sword to your throat, watching that thumb go up must've felt like being Caesar himself.
Modern sports fans would point to MMA as our version of bloodsport, but this is mostly due to the fact that blood makes regular appearances and also that 1988 kickboxing movie. But MMA isn't actually bloodsport—if it were, submissions wouldn't end fights. Nobody, except psychopaths, really wants to see a death in the ring or octagon.
Motorsports fans live with the reality they may see a death at any time, though these are almost always accidents and not a process of competitive spirit (Kyle Busch excepted). Wrecks are celebrated by some NASCAR fans not for the danger but the spectacle of a dozen objects moving very quickly while on fire.