“Please stop forcing me”: Neil Diamond pleaded with fans to stop forcing him to sing ‘Sweet Carolina’ because……
Neil Diamond pleaded with fans to stop forcing him to sing ‘Sweet Carolina’ because they are ruining sport
I don’t have anything against Neil Diamond. I enjoy his work more than other people. I like it so much that other people might think it’s uncool.
I don’t even mind the song, Sweet Caroline. Or, more specifically, I did not dislike it before. My problem, and it is a very strong one, is with the obscene overplaying of Sweet Caroline in public places.
You cannot avoid it. When you go to a football game, they play it at halftime, so loud that you can’t talk to the person next to you. During the chorus, the DJ (who decided we need DJs at football games?) turns down the level after Neil sings the titular phrase, allowing sundry fans in the audience (who are these people?) to shout the missing horn part (bom, bom, bom).
The level is then turned back up so Neil can sing the following line: “Good times never seemed so good.” The level is then turned down again, allowing those who are still having fun (who are these people?) to interject the words “So good, so good!”
You cannot avoid the song by sitting at home and watching the match on television. You can still hear it in the background, booming loudly over the PA. If you change stations, you’ll undoubtedly end up watching an advertisement for a certain kind of bourbon in which Sweet Caroline begins playing in a tavern. A rowdy singalong follows, complete with numerous agonizing “so good” and “bom”s.
The ad’s message appears to be that if you drink enough hard liquor, you may discover that you appreciate being forced to chant “bom bom bom” in a social situation. However, I am not seeking for methods to enjoy saying “bom bom bom”. I just don’t want to say it, no matter what.
Furthermore, there isn’t enough time between the song’s opening bars and the chorus to start drinking from scratch. So, what’s your suggestion? That we should all walk around with a permanent skinful just in case a Sweet Caroline scenario occurs?
How did this ridiculous tradition start? Apparently, it began in Boston in 1997. At Fenway Park, home of the Red Sox, the music director knew someone who had recently named their newborn Caroline. The song was performed as a tribute. The crowd seemed to enjoy it. That group has a lot to answer for.
If that girl in Boston had been named Jolene, Dolly Parton would probably be driving us crazy every week. If the child’s name was Bruce, it would be ELO.
But the child’s name was Caroline. The rest is history, except that it hasn’t yet ended. Globalization at its worst. Caroline is born in Boston, and 27 years later, I can’t have a civilized half-time conversation with my football friends without being forced to join in on a mass Neil Diamond song.
Good times are inherently good. They do not need to be artificially improved.
fantastic times have never seemed so fantastic. Actually, Neil, they looked a lot better just a second earlier, before some unseen twerp started blaring out Sweet Caroline. They’ll look good again in 30 seconds when the song finishes. But right now, I’m having an incomparably worse difficulty than before.
Even in America, the land of questionable taste, Red Sox fans noticed that Diamond’s song began to fade after several million repeats. A reaction set in. “Sweet Caroline sucks,” one Boston journalist said.
I understand what he meant, but I believe his conclusion requires some revision. Sweet Caroline wasn’t always bad. It does not suck intrinsically. It only started sucking because certain entertainment executives, who actually suck, began playing it on an unholy frequency so that certain other individuals, who possibly also suck, might tell themselves they were having fun.
When asked which song should replace Sweet Caroline at Fenway Park, one Bostonian wag said, “Anything.” I disagree. Sweet Caroline should be replaced with nothing. Sports competitions do not require a musical score. If the ball goes over the sideline, let’s see if we can all handle 10 seconds of silent reflection before the game resumes. Allow discussion, a fading art, to thrive at halftime.
Good times are inherently good. They do not need to be artificially improved. That’s what stinks: the very American idea that if you’re watching one type of entertainment, other forms of amusement must be crammed into every nook and corner of the action, lest people with short attention spans die of boredom or demand refunds.
Am I implying that we’ve hit Peak Caroline? Dear God, let us hope so. Imagine if we hadn’t. Consider a future in which we are bombarded with unwelcome renditions of Sweet Caroline from all directions.
We can avoid such fate by working together. Let’s not sing “bom, bom, bom” in public the next time some grinning DJ urges us to. Let’s yell something different, like “Enough!” or “Shut it off!” etc. “If you can’t begin to know when it began, why do you keep telling me about it?” Or, as Neil exclaimed in another context, “Good Lord!”
