Ozzy Osbourne and the 75 Seconds That Broke Wrigley Field
It was August 17, 2003. A Sunday. The sun was beating down on the ivy-covered walls of Wrigley Field as the Chicago Cubs hosted the Los Angeles Dodgers. For most fans in the stands, the 7th-inning stretch was supposed to be a familiar ritual—a moment to stand up, stretch the legs, and sing along to a song every American knows by heart.
Then Ozzy Osbourne walked into the broadcast booth.
Clad in a blue Cubs jersey and his signature tinted glasses, the "Prince of Darkness" looked like a fish out of water. Or maybe a bat out of hell. He was there with Sharon Osbourne, largely to promote her upcoming talk show. What happened next wasn't just a bad performance; it was a cultural reset for MLB’s celebrity guest tradition.
The Lyrics That Weren't Exactly Lyrics
Ozzy started strong. He’s a professional, after all. He grabbed the mic, leaned out over the railing, and screamed, "All right, Chicago! I want to hear a real, real crazy crowd start singing with me! Are you ready?"
The crowd roared. They were ready. Ozzy was not.
As the organ kicked in, the wheels didn't just come off—the whole car disintegrated. Instead of "Take me out to the ballgame," Ozzy leaned into the microphone and delivered something that sounded like a transmission from a different dimension.
"Let's go out to the water... let's go out through the... take me I don't remember what I do..."
It wasn't just the slurring. It was the complete lack of structural integrity in the English language. He replaced "peanuts and Cracker Jack" with a rhythmic series of mumbles and "da-da-das." Sharon was standing right next to him, laughing and trying to keep the beat, but even she couldn't bridge the gap between the actual song and whatever Ozzy was inventing on the fly.
💡 You might also like: Why Feria: The Darkest Light is Still One of the Weirdest Shows on Netflix
Was it an Act or a Genuine Flub?
For years, the legend was simple: Ozzy was just "Ozzy." This was the peak of The Osbournes on MTV. The world was used to seeing him shuffle around his mansion looking for the "bloody remote," so a lyrical meltdown at a baseball game felt on-brand.
However, some people who were actually in the room have a different take. Steve Stone, the legendary broadcaster who was in the booth that day, recently shared a theory that changes the narrative. He claims the whole thing was a calculated performance.
According to Stone, there were lyric sheets taped right to the monitors in the booth. Sharon was glancing at them. Ozzy, despite his reputation, is a seasoned professional who has performed in front of millions for decades. Stone suggests Ozzy chose to lean into the "confused old man" persona because he knew it would be more entertaining than a standard, boring rendition.
"Ozzy was nothing if not a showman," Stone told 670 The Score in Chicago. He noted that after the cameras stopped rolling, both Ozzy and Sharon were incredibly polite, walking around the booth to thank every technician and staffer individually.
Why We Are Still Talking About It in 2026
If it was a "bad" performance, why do we love it?
Since the death of Harry Caray in 1998, the Cubs have invited everyone from Bill Murray to Jeff Gordon to lead the stretch. Most are forgettable. A few are genuinely good. But the "disasters" are the ones that live forever in the digital archives of baseball history.
Ozzy’s rendition was voted the "Most Bizarre Moment" of the 2003 season by MLB fans. It wasn't just a mistake; it was a moment of pure, unadulterated chaos in a sport that is usually defined by rigid rules and statistics.
How to Watch (and What to Look For)
If you go back and watch the clip today—which you definitely should—don't just focus on Ozzy. Watch the players in the dugout. You can see guys looking up at the broadcast booth with genuine "what is happening?" expressions.
Notice the timing, too. Ozzy finishes the song about four bars before the organist. He just decides the song is over and starts yelling, "Let's get some runs! I'll see you tomorrow!" while the music is still playing.
Lessons From the Prince of Darkness
Honestly, there's something to be learned from how he handled it. He didn't look embarrassed. He didn't stop and apologize. He committed to the bit until the very last second.
If you ever find yourself in a situation where you've completely forgotten the task at hand, just do what Ozzy did:
📖 Related: Why the Adventures in Babysitting Trailer Still Feels Like the Ultimate 80s Fever Dream
- Double down on the energy. If you can't be accurate, be loud.
- Lean on your partner. Sharon's presence made the whole thing feel like a family joke rather than a solo failure.
- Know your exit. Even if the middle was a mess, he nailed the "One, two, three strikes you're out" part because he knew that was the big finish.
Next time you’re at Wrigley and a celebrity starts to struggle with the high notes, remember Ozzy. He didn't just sing a song; he created a landmark in Chicago sports history by being exactly who he was—even if he had no idea where the "peanuts and Cracker Jack" were supposed to go.
Check out the original broadcast footage if you can find it; the reaction from the fans in the bleachers tells you everything you need to know about why this remains the gold standard for "so bad it's good."