We love the sarcasm, quick wit of the humorous one-liners

     I always have held an appreciation for one-liners. Sarcastic. Clever. Pithy. Concise.

   So I bellylaughed recently on the basketball court when I was playing like an inept old man – fumbled passes, missed all my shots including an airball, threw a lame pass that was intercepted.

    Then I made a heartening play. I knocked down a hard baseball pass that would have led to a sure basket. It was a speeding bullet that produced a loud slap when it hit my hand; the ball seemed to be emitting vapor trails.

  Before I could congratulate myself, a teammate weighed in. “Did that hit your shooting hand?”

    “Yeah.’’

    “Good!”

    That shot was not aimed at the rim, but rather targeted my lousy shooting. It was a verbal cease-and-desist order.

    Those are the wisecracks that linger around gyms and bring you back for more games, more exercise, and another chance to prove yourself despite pushing 69.

    My morning game always has included a resident smart-aleck with a quick wit.

      Jimmy Nunn, who I dubbed Nunn-sense, has scripts seared into his memory.

   “Jimmy, what’s the score?’’

   “It’s 17-11.’’

 “Who’s ahead?’’

  “17.’’

  He never stops. “Jim H, how was your matchup?’’

   “6-foot-3 and slow.’’

    “Oh, so it was like looking in a mirror.’’

   Before his reign of rejoinders, my game featured Randy The Ref, who referred to my missed shot as a “Scud missile,’’ and suggested guys my age wear sneakers with “Velcro’’ laces. He saved his best shot for a morning when his sidekick Mike was there.

   I arrived on court wearing my 2018 Hammond-Morristown alumni basketball game jersey. My nameplate was emblazoned across the back with a giant 75 for the year I graduated from MCS.

   “What the hell is that about?’’ Mike derided.

   “It’s gotta be his age,’’ Randy asserted. “It’s too high to be his IQ.’’

   Sports are loaded with these lines. When I criticized a weak hitter on another high school baseball team, MCS Coach Fran Holleran thought I needed a little ego adjustment. Before a schoolbus filled with teammates he declared: “Hey, Mr. Bigmouth. You didn’t knock down any fences this spring.’’

    On a couple of occasions, I’ve warned unruly basketball fans: “It’s hard to watch from the parking lot.’’

   I’ve always appreciated comedians like Steven Wright: “My grandmother is insane; she’s got pierced hearing aids.’’  And Rodney Dangerfield, Mr. I Don’t Get No Respect: “I was such an ugly kid that when I played in the sandbox, the cat kept covering me up.’’

    I’ll probably reach the front of the line for hell for needling my wisecracking  friend Finucane from County Kerry in church, but the opportunity was too rich. Just before I delivered the opening hymn at a sparsely attended Wednesday morning Mass, I announced: “Today’s song will be … and John, God will be happy if you just hum along.’’

    St. Patrick’s Day has come and gone, and my resident Special Olympian, Kathleen Holleran, surprised our 110 party-goers with her rendition of The Wild Rover. Katie  never lacks confidence or enthusiasm, never ceases to remind people of her abilities, not her challenges.

    “You know, Kate, since your brother works for The Voice, maybe you want to try out for that show?’’

   “Not this year, Dad, I’m still working on my breath control.’’

   You can’t make up this stuff.

    My new favorite one-liner was directed at me last month. Someone who knows me well, who knows my family refers to me as “Short Story Made Long,’’ couldn’t resist.

   “Be careful, Holleran. You talk so much your tongue will get sunburned.’’

Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/