All language subtitles for Extended.family.S01E12.TGx+SYNCOPY.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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Okay, Saint Patrick is up.

Let our annual official
celebration begin.

All hail everything Irish.

Grandpa, is it true
that Saint Patrick's Day

is a legal holiday in
Boston because Irish people

are all alcoholics and the government

doesn't want kids
walking home from school

through rivers of Irish puke?

100%.

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Listen, Jimmy, you
are an Irish American.

That means uninformed people
are gonna say untrue things

about your heritage all your life,

especially on Saint Patrick's Day.

They're gonna say
your people are drunks.

Pug-faced potato eaters.

Humorless, uptight Catholic girls.

Leprechauns who hoard
yellow moons, blue diamonds,

and green clovers.

Mouth-breathing knuckle draggers

looking for a fight.

- Your job...
- Is to punch them in the face.

No.

I want you both to always remember

that you come from a great people.

And for the record, March
17th, Saint Patrick's Day,

it marks an event called Evacuation Day.

Where Bostonians celebrate Saint Patrick

by evacuating their stomachs?

No, it's the day that British forces

retreated from Boston,

giving George Washington
his first victory

of the Revolutionary War.

Why did they retreat?

Because of all the puke?

There was no puke.

The British were beaten.

Until they puked?

- Hey, y'all.
- Hey, Trey.

- Hey, Trey.
- Jimmy Jr. forgot his backpack in the car.

When he was little, Mom and Dad

used to leave him in the car.

Hey, who's the "Lord of the Rings" fan?

I love me some Gandalf.

That's who he reminds me of.

Thank you, Trey, for reducing

Ireland's beloved Saint
Patrick to a senile warlock.

Dad loves Saint Patrick's Day.

I love Saint Patrick's Day too.

The Celtics have always had

a Saint Patrick's Day fundraiser,

and this year, for the first time,

I get to host it.

We got A-listers, big-money donors.

We're blowing it out for the
Higgins Hospital for Children.

This year, I'm telling you right now,

the Celtics are gonna
own Saint Patty's Day.

Saint Patrick's Day.

That's what I meant.

You said Patty, P-A-T-T-Y,

which is a nickname for Patricia.

However, Paddy, P-A-D-D-Y,

is a nickname for Pádraig, or Patrick.

Well, what's the difference?

What's the difference between
the letter T and the letter D?

You dell me, Drey Daylor.

Douché.

Okay, I stand corrected.

Saint Paddy's Day.

But look, we're gonna have top-notch

Irish-themed
entertainment and catering.

Is there such a thing as
top-notch Irish catering?

I've never even come across
mid-notch Irish catering.

Well, we're gonna have
shamrocks and green balloons

and gift bags with bottles of Jameson

and Irish Spring soap.

We're gonna have family-sized boxes

of Lucky Charms.

We're gonna get paddy wagon photo booths

so everyone can have their own mug shots

like Irishmen of yore.

And check this out.

We hired a local band
who released a track

that a chatbot wrote
after scouring the internet

for the answer to the prompt,

what does it mean to be Irish?

Take a listen.

♪ Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey ♪

♪ Oh, too-ra-loo-ra-lay ♪

♪ It's how we end the evening ♪

♪ And how we start the day ♪

♪ Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey ♪

♪ Oh, too-ra-loo-ra-li ♪

♪ We can't live without it ♪

♪ So we'll drink until we die ♪

I think I've heard enough.

But there's eleven more verses.

♪ Fighting, fighting ♪

♪ Oh, too-ra-loo-ra-loo ♪

♪ If you had your Irish up ♪

♪ You'd be throwing punches too ♪

♪ Talking, talking, talking ♪

♪ Oh, too-ra-loo-ra-lee ♪

♪ We can talk your ear off ♪

♪ So come have a drink with me ♪

♪ Drink and fight and talk all night ♪

♪ And dum-dum, diddle-diddle-dee ♪

♪ Have another swig
and do an Irish jig ♪

♪ Get your Irish up like me ♪

See?

Perfectly beautiful Irish song.

I'm gonna get a phone call.

You're not gonna get a phone call.

So I imagine you were
surprised to get my call.

Jim, if this is about

the "Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey" song...

A song that should be entitled

"Reductive Stereotype in the Key of C."

You got Gandalf and
the cereal leprechaun

and the paddy wagon.
The only thing you left out

- was "Danny Boy."
- I love "Danny Boy."

Written by a butter-loving Englishman

about an Irish father who
will never see his son again,

probably because of the English.

Jim, I understand how you feel.

As an Italian-American, I used
to be proud of Columbus Day.

Right, but if it is ever
revealed that, like Columbus,

Saint Patrick went to foreign
lands to terrorize the locals,

then I will stop honoring him.

The point, I think, is that there are

knowledge gaps on all sides.

Right, But you never hear

about the Irish understanding gap.

They're always, you know,
doing shots and hurling insults

and rolling in clichés.

Including lots of Irish people.

I mean, look at this place.

Okay, my dad may not be as sensitive

to this issue as I am.

Green beer coming through.

Faith and begorrah.

But because he's Irish, that's okay.

I mean, if he was
hosting the Celtics gala

on Saint Patrick's Day,
he could stand up and yell,

"Welcome, ya Guinness-swilling,
short-tempered

peat-moss burners,"
and no one would care.

But he's not hosting. You are.

I think Jim may be
actually trying to help you.

No.

No.

I mean, you skipped your pickleball game

to have this conversation.

- I did.
- Mm-hmm.

- And I love pickleball.
- You do.

I mean, you could be competent

the very first time you play.

I did skip it to be here.

Like a friend would.

Oh, my God.

I think she's right.

Mm-mm.

Is it possible that
we might be becoming...

friends?

I mean, it doesn't feel like friendship.

But it does have the markers of it.

I mean, here I am, sitting here,

listening to you for the first time

like your opinion matters.

This is a big moment.

Okay, okay, so I have a new friend,

but I still got a problem.

The gala is six days away,

and I see that it's full of land mines.

And I might not be the right person

to know how to defuse them.

Well, what if we built
on this new friendship

and Jim brought his wealth

of cultural and historical knowledge

to help keep you land mine-free?

You'd do that, Jim?

Interesting idea.

Don't just criticize.

Pitch in.

I don't know that I've ever tried that.

I've never seen you do it.

Okay, I got to admit
that I was triggered

by most of your party plans.

But maybe that's the
problem with this world.

So you'll help, Jim?

On one condition.

I want to be named

special envoy to the Boston Celtics.

- Special what?
- Envoy.

- It's like an ambassador.
- No, I know what it is.

I just couldn't believe
that you said it.

I don't want to be just a consultant.

I mean, the world is
lousy with consultants.

Grant me that dignity, please?

Special envoy it is.

I want in on a business card.

No one uses business cards anymore.

So it shouldn't be a problem.

"Special Envoy Jim
Kearney" on a business card.

Okay, if his name on a piece
of paper is what gets his help,

- then deal.
- Cardstock, the good stuff.

Welcome aboard,

Special Envoy Jim Kearney, friend.

Ah.

Thank you very much, friend Trey.

Whoa, whoa.

Oh, my God.

Did we just come up with
our own special handshake?

I think we just did, friend.

This day has taken an unexpected turn.

It's a simple idea, really,

and one that every
special envoy holds dear...

the truth.

In this case, the unadorned
truth of the Irish experience.

And what cuts more cleanly to the heart

and, since this is for
charity, to the pocketbook

than honesty?

Nothing, folks. Nothing.

Well, Mr. Taylor told us to do

whatever Special Envoy Kearney said.

Good. And what's the budget?

$500,000.

That'll work.

Ugh, I know.

That happens to me in elevators too.

No, that's not what I mean.

I just realized I gave Jim Kearney

$1/2 million to do this thing,

and I have no idea what he did.

Decided not to micromanage,

and that might have
been a macro mistake.

Oh, my God, honey.

This place looks amazing.

I knew he'd nail it.

My friend Jim.

Oh, dia dhuit, my friends.

Dia dhuit, Mr. Kearney.

- Dia...
- Dhuit.

It's hello in Irish.

- You know Irish?
- Just dia dhuit.

Irish, the national language of Ireland

until England started
killing everyone who spoke it.

Jim, you look so great.

- Oh.
- Yes.

And thank you so much for
helping me out with this, man.

I needed someone to have
my back, and you had it.

I appreciate you.

Helping you restage this gala

has been a gift for me.

And it has been staggering to discover

not only how many
people want to help share

in the Irish celebration

but also just how much money can buy.

I mean, you know, now I know
why you guys are so happy.

Whenever a problem comes up,
you just chuck money at it.

Then the problem goes away.

Dude, I know.

Well, listen, I got to set some levels

with the tech director.

Oh, oh, and thank you for the suit.

Apparently I bought him a suit.

And he looks great.

Let's go work the room, shall we?

Can you do me a favor and
tell me everybody's name twice,

just in case I don't remember?

Copy that. Ah.

Lana Telsup.

Uh, Telsuit?

Telsup with a P, Harvard professor,

one of the only ones
who still has her job.

Best-selling book, "Women Empowered."

- Tell me that again.
- "Women Empowered."

No, not the book's name, her name.

Lana Telsup.

- One more time.
- Lana... she's too close now.

Lana, Julia Mariano.

And this is Trey Taylor.

Of course. Good evening.

Oh, thank you for your support.

I just loved your
book, "Women Empowered."

As a woman, I felt so
empowered, Lana Telsup.

I felt empowered too.

Even as a man.

It's not for men.

Forget everything you read.

Hmm.

Oh, Lana, dia dhuit.

Loved your book. Felt very empowered.

Not for men.

Danny Walsh is here. Danny Walsh.

Danny Walsh? I know Danny Walsh.

- Trey!
- Danny! Hey!

Hey, love the thatched-roof cottage.

So Irish.

All we need now is some rain, huh?

- You remember Julia.
- Oh, you look fantastic.

Oh, hello. Good to see you.

Splendid.

Now, I'm gonna need you bidding big

in that live auction, D-Dub.

All about the kids.

I didn't come here to save money.

I'll see you later. I'll see you later.

Hoo-hoo! Danny Walsh is on the hook.

Mm. Jim, you really
classed this whole place up.

They are gonna give till it hurts.

"For the kids" on three.

One, two, for the kids!

I thought you said on three.

Well, yeah, it's 1,
2, and then you replace

the three with "for the kids."

- Should we try again?
- Yeah.

No.

All right, well, I'll see
you after the presentation.

- Yep. Love you, bud.
- Love you too.

Did Jim and I just say
we loved each other?

Well, you said love
you while walking away,

which is still saying more than see you,

but it's not I love you.

- Huh.
- Watch this.

I love you.

I see the difference.

Thanks for making him special envoy.

I needed him as much as he needed me.

You and me right now, "For
the kids" on two. Ready?

One.

- Two.
- For the kids.

See, it just doesn't make sense.

Yeah.

Can we all make some noise
for our special guest?

Boston Celtics legend
Paul "The Truth" Pierce.

- My man.
- Yeah. Yeah.

And at this point,
I'm gonna introduce you

to our master of ceremony
of this evening, Mr. Jim...

Special envoy.

- I'm sorry, what?
- Special envoy.

- Got it.
- Mm.

I'd like to introduce you
to the master of ceremony

this evening, my friend

and Special Envoy Jim Kearney.

Thanks, Trey.

I know I speak for the entire
Boston Celtics organization

when I say that there
is no holiday that is

more important to us
than Saint Patrick's Day.

Why?

Because Irish spirit is on our uniform.

It runs in our hallways.

It is in the very panels of
the parquet floor at TD Garden.

But a lot of people don the Celtic green

without knowing what
it really represents:

The spirit of Ireland.

If you'll allow me, I'd
like to show you what I mean.

There are virtual reality
headsets on your tables.

If you would please put them on.

Then we'll begin.

Behold the rolling green
hills of the Emerald Isle...

Ooh!

Beckoning you with lush tranquility.

Here is the true spirit of Ireland.

Look at the details.

It's so lush, so green.

Oh, it's so beautiful.

It's like it's all fairway.

Now see the stunning Cliffs of Moher.

So breathtaking.

Inhale the brisk, misty air.

Walk to the edge and peer over below.

- That's a long way down.
- Oh, whoa!

It's so real. Oh!

Now let's walk across the River Liffey

and through the famous archway
of Trinity College Dublin.

Hey, Hall-of-Famer Paul
Pierce, better watch your head.

I'm tall but not that tall.

Now flip through the Book of Kells.

Marvel in the detail.

And it's only a few steps
over to the lively pubs

of Dublin's Temple Bar neighborhood,

bustling with music and cheer.

See Ireland in all its glory,

from the Ring of Kerry
to the Bay of Galway

to Blackrock Castle
outside colorful Cork.

Okay, man, now, that's cool.

We're flying now.

Oh, my God, we're flying.

But wait.

What is that black smoke?

What's going on?

It's 1649, and the
marauders have landed.

And they want to kill you

because you answer to the pope.

Look behind you.

It's a family of nine,
very weak and gaunt,

and they're holding something.

A blighted potato.

No nutritional value.

It takes more calories to digest it

than it adds to your strength.

Do the arithmetic.

But you can't do the
arithmetic because the English

have burned your school to the ground

and dismembered your teachers,

your friends, your family.

Your entire country is starving.

It's 1847, and the famine is here.

Oh-ho, this is intense.

Let's go back to Temple
Bar and tie one on.

Now you're in the brig "Saint John,"

an overcrowded immigrant ship

teeming with cholera and death.

Fleeing the famine, the brig
will crash upon the rocks

just off the shore of Massachusetts

before it arrives,
killing 145 souls on board.

But here you are, swimming
in the frigid water

among the corpses.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Oh, my God, I need a Xanax.

Sharks!

Swim!

Then climbing ashore,
surviving the wreck.

But your life in America will not be

the paradise you'd hoped, because...

what's that smell?

That's smoke. More flames.

You're an Irish immigrant in America,

and your textile mill is on fire.

You run for the windows
to try to find escape,

but they're nailed shut.

You try to find something to break it,

but there's nothing.

Use your fists. Use your fists.

Use your head. Use your friend's head.

Break it. Break it. Break it.

Get us out of here!

I want to live!

You try to climb through
the shards of glass,

and people push you.

Get off of me!

You can feel your
skin being sliced apart

while people are bleeding on you.

- Oh, it's so real.
- It's terrible.

This is the worst
gala I've ever been to.

Feel that?

It's no longer the mist.

It's tears.

Irish tears.

Oh!

I don't want to be Irish anymore.

Me neither.

Man, I'm out of here.

Wait, what?

The Red Sox would never
do something like this.

Don't beat yourself up, son.

You did your best.

It's not your fault your
best wasn't good enough.

It's absolutely my fault.
How is this not my fault?

I'm trying to cheer you up.

It's not my fault I failed.

I failed the Celtics, the charity,

the kids, Paul Pierce, Julia,

and Irish people everywhere.

Oh, and I failed my new friend Trey.

Trey?

You met a new guy named Trey
and you made friends with him?

No, no, our Trey.

Our relationship had
kind of turned a corner.

We even had our own handshake.

But now we'll be back to
a perfunctory chin nod.

Well, let me get you a beer.

In the tradition of our people,
you can drown your sorrows.

- Not helping.
- Not hurting.

- Hey, Jim, Jim.
- Mm.

Trey, Trey, before you say anything...

No, I need to say...
I need to say something.

- No, I need to go first.
- No, let me go first.

No, I'm so sorry about tonight.

I thought I was doing a good job.

I thought I was being
thorough and trenchant,

but I totally went overboard

and slaughtered the golden geese.

- Can I talk now?
- Please do. I'm out of words.

Okay, all week long, you pounded me

about what the Irish have been through.

I know, and I'm so sorry.
And just let me say that I...

You said you were out of words.

It was a temporary condition.

I thought I understood.

I didn't, until I saw your VR thing.

And it moved me.

It also moved Danny Walsh.

Danny Walsh was last seen

dry-heaving at the valet stand.

Danny Walsh recovered.

Special Envoy Kearney.

Yes?

I wanted to come by myself to tell you

how the rest of my night went.

Well, first I puked my guts out.

But any Irishman will tell you,

that's a good way to clear your mind.

Then I had my driver drive
me to Mount Auburn Cemetery,

where my Nana Méabh is buried.

She and my grandfather emigrated

from Dublin in August 1922.

I went to her grave, and I...

I poured a fifth of Jameson over it.

I keep a couple bottles in the trunk.

I said, Nana, please forgive me.

I've taken you for granted.

I mean, your heroic struggles.

And I now understand that if
it wasn't for you and Grandpa,

I wouldn't be here, you know,

raiding companies and
laying off thousands,

crushing their families.

But that's not important right now.

Mm.

And then I realized,
maybe there's some kids

in Higgins Hospital
that should get a chance

to be a hedge fund
monster themselves, right?

So you know what this is?

A restraining order from Paul Pierce?

No, it's a check for $4 million.

4 mi... did you say mi...

Yeah, he said mi.

It's the most money
the gala's ever raised.

So the presentation worked?

It worked, Special Envoy Jim.

I don't know what to say.

Say it's the luck of the Irish.

Pretty sure you shouldn't say that.

And you really were a special envoy.

Well, thank you.

- Trey?
- Hmm?

You take this. You're used to it.

I can feel my fingers melting.

Jim, you got a business card?

As a matter of fact...

Nice cardstock.

Mm.

Let's get this place hammered.

Hey, barkeep!

Rest of the night, the drinks are on me.

Wow.

I mean, that was a win,
a win-win, a win-win-win.

Hey, "Win-win-win" on three?

- Oh, yeah!
- Nope, never again.

Ladies and gentlemen,
the Shot Glass Sullivans.

♪ Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey ♪

No, I had nothing to do with this.

I tracked the band
down. I love these guys.

They may not look Irish, but they are.

♪ Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey ♪

- ♪ Oh, too-ra-loo-ra-li ♪
- Come on, sing along.

You know you want to.

♪ Without it, so we'll
drink until we die ♪

♪ Paddy, Paddy, Paddy ♪

♪ Did someone call my name ♪

♪ Get on the paddy wagon ♪

♪ It's our only claim to fame ♪

♪ Fighting, fighting, fighting ♪

♪ Oh, too-ra-loo-ra-loo ♪

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