Except one thing stood out. For once (or maybe this was the second or third time ever) – Ozzie was right to have a fit.
Usually he’s playing tough guy / player’s best friend and defending the millionaires on the most mundane of issues. A beat throw. A missed tag. But Sunday was nothing short of quality management.
In honor of his spirited show, I wore my misspelled Ozzy is My Homeboy t-shirt yesterday. Yes, I paid money knowing it was wrong. It was well worth $15 to have all these Texans stare for they have no idea of the greatness embedded in my cotton shirt.
Together we have hope. Not the “it’s gonna happen” type of hope, but hope that Ozzie’s tirade can turn around an aged, streaky team with nowhere near the domination seen in 2005.
In my old home of Chicago, today was the day for head-to-toe green and corned beef and cabbage. While we enjoyed the latter yesterday (with homemade fish and chips to boot), I still plan on a Guinness with friends and the wearin’ o’ the green at the Dog and Duck.
If you’re Irish, enjoy your day. If you’re not, stop being so jealous.
Jokes courtesy of Uncle Don Goeres:
Murphy told Quinn that his wife was driving him to drink.
Quinn thinks he’s very lucky because his own wife makes him walk.
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The late Bishop Sheen stated that the reason the Irish fight so often among themselves is that they’re always assured of having a worthy opponent.
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An American lawyer asked, “Paddy, why is it that whenever you ask an Irishman a question, he answers with another question?”
“Who told you that?” asked Paddy.
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Question - Why are Irish jokes so simple?
Answer - So the English can understand them.
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Reilly went to trial for armed robbery. The jury foreman came out and announced, “Not guilty.”
“That’s grand!” shouted Reilly. “Does that mean I can keep the money?”
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Irish lass customer: “Could I be trying on that dress in the window?”
Shopkeeper: “I’d prefer that you use the dressing room.”
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Mrs. Feeney shouted from the kitchen, “Is that you I hear spittin’ in the vase on the mantle piece?”
“No,” said himself, “but I’m gettin’ closer all the time.”
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Q. What do you call an Irishman who knows how to control a wife?
A. A bachelor.
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Finnegin: My wife has a terrible habit of staying up ’til two o’clock in the morning. I can’t break her of it.
Keenan: What on earth is she doin’ at that time?
Finnegin: Waitin’ for me to come home
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Slaney phoned the maternity ward at the hospital.. “Quick!” He said, “Send an ambulance, my wife is goin’ to have a baby!”
“Tell me, is this her first baby?” the intern asked.
“No, this is her husband, Kevin, speakin’.”
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“O’Ryan,” asked the druggist, “did that mudpack I gave you improve your wife’s appearance?”
“It did surely,” replied O’Ryan, “but it keeps fallin’ off!”
