Monday, February 4, 2008
Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim
Anderson, Garrett – Officially, Garrett Anderson is somewhere between 54 and 73 years old. Remind him of the cold, grim reality that the Hand of Death will soon be fist-bumping Garrett’s soul by wearing an authentic Grim Reaper outfit under your replica Anderson jersey. If security won’t let you bring in a scythe, a large foam finger will have to do.
Aybar, Erick – Dude always looks stoned. Use it.
Figgins, Chone – Evidently pronounced “Shawn”, Figgins’ first name is a glory to behold. Rhyming it with “cone” (as it should be, since this is America, goddamnit!) is a good start, but getting a little creative with it can’t hurt. How about “che-hone-ay”? Or perhaps “see honey”, but in the tone of an effeminate pimp.
Garland, Jon – A longtime favorite of the ladies, remind him of another heartthrob who always made the ladies swoon: Rock Hudson.
Hunter, Torii – While the repeating vowels of his first name may seem an enticing target, stay away from making too much of it. Who are you, the Grammar Police? Instead, focus on the androgyny of it, playing it up with fun characters who share the same name. Say, the leather-jacket-wearing, continuity-destroying Tori Scott of Saved by the Bell fame. Torii probably won’t know who you’re referring to, but you’ll be a hit with the under-25 crowd.
Escobar, Kelvim – Since it’s a well-known fact that Kelvim was named, albeit one-letter off, after the Northern Irish physicist who introduced the groundwork for the “absolute zero” scale of temperature measurement, bring your mittens and chuck verbal snowballs of taunt about the inability of Escobar’s parents to distinguish between an “m” and an “n”. Highlight the fact with repetitive recitation of the lyrical “ellemenno” section of the alphabet.
Guerrero, Vladimir – To make him sob, just remind him of the lean years of his childhood, when he was unable to wear the leather batting gloves he can now no longer do without. If it happens to be one of the 162 times a year when he isn’t wearing batting gloves, simply hurl the same prepared insult, but in a sarcastic tone, leaving those within earshot under the impression that you were being ironic.
Kendrick, Howie – Any “Howie” heckles begin and end with references to the great Howie Mandel and his well-publicized bout with OCD. As such, make sure to wear plastic gloves when taunting. Also, if you remove the “r” from his last name (maybe sending it over to Casey one entry down) it spells “Kendick”. That’s pretty funny.
Kotchman, Casey – While he obviously doesn’t need any more reminders that he has a first name which can be used for either a girl or a boy, what Casey does need is someone to remind him he’s only one letter (an “r”) away from having the greatest latest name of all time. Pepper your heckles with the addition of this letter to get the point across.
Lackey, John – Let’s be honest: John Lackey looks like he’s dumb. While we have no information either way about his intellect, play the odds and inquire about his IQ score. If his answer is above what you expected (i.e. triple digits), wonder aloud to your colleagues why Gatorade went to him, of all players, when looking for a pitcher that Derek Jeter could steal on under the prodding of Harvey Keitel. Are they saying that Lackey lacks a quality pickoff move?
Matthews Jr., Gary – Whatever you do, stay away from making fun of the amount of money he’s earning despite low production and an ample time spent sitting on the bench. He’ll only laugh in your face.
Napoli, Mike – Since that last name is as Italian as you can get, it’s best to start off with a few racial insults about the general state of Italian politics and body odor, both of which stink to high heaven! (Zing!)
Rodriguez, Francisco – Odds are, while you reading this, he walked someone. Quick. Make fun of that!
Santana, Ervin – Long in the doghouse of the Angels, it doesn’t hurt to bring up two of his namesakes who are much better at him at everything in the world: Ervin “Magic” Johnson and Johan Santana. Suggest that, while you’re not a gemology expert, you imagine it’s kind of like the two superstars had a child and, instead of obtaining their athletic genes, they got the “shit” ones instead. It’s kind of like Twins. But with AIDS.
Saunders, Joe – You have two options at your disposal: If he can’t beat the above-mentioned Santana for the final rotation spot, he must suck. If he does beat him out, still, that’s not saying much.
Shields, Scot – Just imagine Shields is one of those professional maids-of-honor, who just can’t seem to land herself a man while all of her best friends find “Mr. Right”. Continue the scenario by mentality envisioning that Shields (the bridesmaid) just spread a nasty rumor through the crowd at the wedding reception that you contracted herpes from a sibling. If you’ve worked yourself into a state of ample frenzied hatred, go ahead and pronounce to the crowd how you really feel about Shields (the bridesmaid). Just make sure to substitute the phrase “you’ll die alone” for “you’ll never be a closer”.
Weaver, Jered – While his brother Jeff may be a worse pitcher by far, he could still hold young Jered down and force him to smell his farts like he did all through grammar school. Can you still smell them, Jered? Do they still haunt your nostrils?
Posted by Rick at 8:54 PM