In case you need a chuckle on this fine morning, here are a couple baseball jokes I came across to get you going! The second one strikes me as an actual, real-life story, which makes it all the more amusing.
A man is trapped in a house without windows, doors, or any other way of exiting. The house is on fire and has started to collapse, and the man has only a baseball and a bat. How does he get out? He swings at the air three times because in baseball it is one, two, three strikes and you’re out at the ol’ ball game!
On a spring break trip to Italy, my friends and I were standing just inside St. Peter’s Basilica, the second largest church in the world.
The tour guide explained, “This church is so large that no man on earth could hit a baseball from one end to the other, not Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth, or even Mark McGwire.”
My group stared in silence at the beautiful marble sculptures, intricate paintings, and glorious mosaics all around the enormous building.
Then one girl interrupted the silence with an astonished question: “You mean, they actually let them hit baseballs in here?”
Of course, this year’s Red Sox don’t quite work with this joke. Perhaps I should have replaced them with the Royals.
A couple recently got a divorce and they decided to move away from each other and go their separate ways. So, the father sat down and talked with his son and he said “Son, I think that it is best that you go and live with your mother.”
The kid said, “No, I won’t, because she beats me.”
Then, the mother came in and talked to the son, “I think it is best that you go and live with your father.”
“NO. NO,” he replied, “He beats me.”
So then, both the parents sat down and said to their son, “Well, if we both beat you, then who do you want to live with?”
The son said, “The Red Sox. They can’t beat anyone.”
I am overdue for posting more jokes on here. You can’t really blame me, though, most baseball jokes are honestly truly awful. The ones below are not exempted from that description, but sometimes cheesy can be a welcome change of tone.
A baseball scout found a remarkable prospect–a horse who was a pretty good fielder and who hit the ball every time he was up at bat. The scout got him a try-out with a big league team. Up at bat, the horse slammed the ball into far left field and stood at the plate, watching it go. “Run!” the manager screamed, “Run!” “Are you kidding?” answered the horse. “If I could run, I’d be in the Kentucky Derby.”
Did you hear the one about the fast pitch?
Never mind. You just missed it.
Did you hear the joke about the pop fly?
Forget it. It’s way over your head.
The Yankees really are a popular target. I’m no Red Sox fan, either, but somehow, I still struggle to feel bad for the Yankees.
‘I am a Yankees fan,’ a first-grade teacher explains to her class. ‘Who likes the Yankees?’
Everyone raises a hand except one little girl. ‘Janie,’ the teacher says, surprised. ‘Why didn’t you raise your hand?’
‘I’m not a Yankees fan.’
‘Well, if you are not a Yankees fan, then what team do you like?’
‘The Red Sox,’ Janie answers.
‘Why in the world are you a Red Sox fan?’
‘Because my mom and dad are Red Sox fans.’
‘That’s no reason to be a Red Sox fan,’ the teacher replies, annoyed. ‘You don’t always have to be just like your parents. What if your mom and dad were morons? What would you be then?’
‘A Yankees fan.’
The Red Sox get into the Series thanks to the fact that the Yankees – who were leading the American League championships three games to none, and have all-stars at every position, not to mention a payroll larger than the gross national product of Sweden – chose that particular time to execute the most spectacular choke in all of sports history, an unbelievable Gag-o-Rama, a noxious nosedive, a pathetic gut-check failure of such epic dimensions that every thinking human outside of the New York metropolitan area experiences a near-orgasmic level of happiness. But there is no need to rub it in.
~ Dave Barry (2004 year in review)
Continuing with the bass theme…. it’s just too easy.
My mom and I recently returned from a week-long trip to Saskatchwan (hence the sporadic posting lately). Honestly, I’m still exhausted and recovering from our little jaunt, but promise to get back on the ball with my posts pretty quickly.
For now, here is a little joke to help tie us over. Poor Yankees — though I imagine, in a lot of ways, they and their fans might get a kick out of being hated so much.
Two boys are playing hockey on an inlet on a pond in suburban Chicago when one is attacker by a rabid Rottweiler. Thinking quickly, the other boy takes his stick and wedges it down the dog’s collar and twists, breaking the dog’s neck. A reporter who is strolling by sees the incident and rushes over to the boy. “Young White Sox Fan Saves Friend from Vicious Animal,” he starts writing in his notebook.
“But I’m not a Sox fan,” the little hero replied.
“Sorry, since we are in Chicago, I just assumed you were,” said the reporter, and he began writing again.
“Cubs Fan Rescues Friends from Horrific Attack,” he continued writing in his notebook.
“I’m not a Cubs fan either,” the boy said.
“I assumed everyone in Chicago was either for the Cubs or the Sox. What team do you root for?” inquired the reporter. “I’m a Yankees fan,” the child responded.
The reporter turned the page in his notebook and wrote “Little Bastard from New York Kills Beloved Family Pet.”