In Ireland they are quick to tell you that millions of people have kissed the Blarney Stone.
What they don?t tell you is that only a Boston Irish American named Freddie Roach has ever swallowed it whole.
Just like they don’t tell you that, after going upside down to perform the traditional osculation, he talked the worthy keeper of Blarney Castle into handing him the keys.
He doesn?t go to door to door. He doesn?t fly the Amway flag or wear a shirt which reads ?Lose Weight: Ask Me How.?
He doesn?t phone you during your dinner hour with a spiel about an amazing price on a set of encyclopedias or ?real, imitation like leather like Bibles? or try to move sofas and couches made in Naugahyde which have been taken from genuine Naugas.
Circuit City has called him to move those big screen TVs as they get ready to shut their doors.
Ponzi scheme punk Bernie Madoff would give his personal money to him for proper investment.
Arthur Murray would ask for dance lessons from him knowing of his exquisite fistic choreography.
If Public Enemy had mt him, their song would’ve been titled “Believe The Hype.”
Make no mistake, Coach Freddie Roach is a superb salesman.
Now he?s barking about the danger man Ricky Hatton and what the popular Brit brings to the table come May 2 against Roach charge Manny Pacquiao.
I?m telling you that Roach could sell surfboards in landlocked Iowa.
Roach could sell X-rated videos at a monastery.
The man could peddle air conditioners in Antartica.
Speaking of the frozen tundra, if Roach went there he would have no problem selling new tuxedoes to the penguins.
He?s that good. He?s become the New Generation Angelo Dundee, chirping away and doing what it takes to boost ticket and PPV sales.
If Pacman were to fight some cat with two left feet, Roach would go into a reasoned rap about how double southfeet are so tough to fight.
If Manny?s opponent were to come in the ring with one foot on a banana peel and the other on a roller skate, Roach would marvel at his balance.
Roach could lock a group of Evangelical ministers in a room and get them to put money into his basket.
The man is as smooth as R. Kelly at a Girl Scouts convention.
Forget being trainer of the year, the decade or the century. Roach is now the master of the 22-second TV sound bite.
Trouble Illinois Gov. Blagojevich would go bald if he could acquire Roach?s slickness in front of the cameras.
Roach not only floats like a verbal butterfly, he stings with analogies, similes and anecdotes.
Rumor is he walks up to reporters and hands them quote filled notebooks. Saves everybody time that way.
So, the lesson is that, in the endless run up to Pacman-Hatton, let?s take Roach?s ?danger ahead? and ?Manny must beware of? signals with a grain of salt.
Don’t lose sight of the fact that lefty Luis Collazo beat the Mancunian and never got a second chance.
Make that trillions of grains of salt and make it Morton?s.
Coach Roach doesn?t really believe all this palaver. He?s just the best pitcher in pugilism.
Roach is no sellout but he is a master salesman.
