Like I was the first time the crowd at the Mosconi Cup started to do "Sweet Caroline." I had no idea that was a thing.
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Say it ain’t so, Bob, say it ain’t so. I never watched the Moscini Cup before last year. I loved the electricity and boisterousness in the crowd. If there is an event that might be able to attract the casual viewer to pool, that would be it.
However, if at any time, I would have heard “Sweet Caroline” while watching, I’d have horked my Thanksgiving dinner all over the living room. Thank heavens I missed that. Every dawg-gone wedding reception I will ever go to, or my children’s children will ever go to, will have a cadre of drunken louts in sorta unison and wholly off key chanting, “SWEET CAROLINE! Bum Bum Bum!” I can see the bridesmaids with their highball glasses and dirty knees elbowing their ‘besties’ excited for THE sing-a-long.
I’m sorry for the tangent, but the thought of being awash in a mass of people pretending they actually enjoy that garbage so they can feel they are part of the group makes my insides churn. The only thing worse is the thought of a campfire rendition of American Pie sung in rounds.
