OK, what does that headline mean? Well, you figure it out.
It's time to distract the nay-sayers and the speakers/writers of the umpteen iterations of "it's a small sample size and I know I shouldn't be concerned but ... " with another round of Anagramatics. The subject? The 2004 Blue Jays, of course.
We haven't visited this turf in quite some time, so quickly ... this is all about personal anagrams, which can tell you everything you need to know about a person in that same quirky way The Magic Eight Ball works in Washington, D.C.
The rules for personal anagrams are simple: start with the letters in a name as it is used every day and rearrange them to reveal true meaning. If nothing works very well ... cheat.
Add in a middle name, use a full first name, add the middle initial or full middle name ... any combination until you find something you like. Er, until the Great Truth is Revealed.
And so, on to examine the current Jays -- anagramatically speaking.
Your managaer, Carlos Tosca ... well, it seems a lot of fans concerned about the slow start are already crying "Scoot, Rascal!"
But be careful what you wish for about key figures leaving -- a certain cleanup-hitting first baseman appears destined for Chavez Ravine. Is that you, Carlos Delgado? That's right, "L.A. Dodger? SoCal?" And is Kevin Cash predestined to "Hack Vines" at Wrigley Field in Chicago some day?
Toronto fans sure do love their O-Dawg, but it's a little premature to put Orlando Hudson in the Hall of Fame and scream at Yankee fans "A-Rod? Loons! Hound!" Keystone partner Chris Woodward is a fan favorite, too, as each time he makes a play, "Crowds Whir Ado."
Concern may reign about the glovework of one Eric Hinske, but look back on the trade that brought him to Canada -- "Nice Risk, Eh?"
Does DH Joshua Lee Phelps need a personal trainer? One who can motivate him while telling the manager he needs to "Shape Up; He's Jello." If Phelps is at all concerned that a current teammate might perform well enough to run him out of town, he probably should discount the threat of Reed Johnson -- he's "No Josh Ender."
Poor Frank Catalanotto; he continues to play well and not get the recognition he deserves. Turn on any talk radio sports segment, and you can be sure "Talk Ran Not of a Cat." It's more likely that speculation might run about whether or not Vernon Wells III is benefitting from SkyDome or whether or not he'd be "Livelier in Snow."
On the hill, HLH -- you do know what that stands for by now, don't you? -- inspires grateful cries as he busts another inside fastball: "Holy Radar! Yeah, a Rally!" But will that all come crashing to an end when Justin Speier trots in from the bullpen to try to close it out? Will the Blue Jay Cheer Club have to report its "Input is Jeers"?
So there you have it ... the starting lineup, a starting pitcher and a reliever and the manager. Who else gets a personal anagram this year?
And have you figured out that headline yet?
It's time to distract the nay-sayers and the speakers/writers of the umpteen iterations of "it's a small sample size and I know I shouldn't be concerned but ... " with another round of Anagramatics. The subject? The 2004 Blue Jays, of course.
We haven't visited this turf in quite some time, so quickly ... this is all about personal anagrams, which can tell you everything you need to know about a person in that same quirky way The Magic Eight Ball works in Washington, D.C.
The rules for personal anagrams are simple: start with the letters in a name as it is used every day and rearrange them to reveal true meaning. If nothing works very well ... cheat.
Add in a middle name, use a full first name, add the middle initial or full middle name ... any combination until you find something you like. Er, until the Great Truth is Revealed.
And so, on to examine the current Jays -- anagramatically speaking.
Your managaer, Carlos Tosca ... well, it seems a lot of fans concerned about the slow start are already crying "Scoot, Rascal!"
But be careful what you wish for about key figures leaving -- a certain cleanup-hitting first baseman appears destined for Chavez Ravine. Is that you, Carlos Delgado? That's right, "L.A. Dodger? SoCal?" And is Kevin Cash predestined to "Hack Vines" at Wrigley Field in Chicago some day?
Toronto fans sure do love their O-Dawg, but it's a little premature to put Orlando Hudson in the Hall of Fame and scream at Yankee fans "A-Rod? Loons! Hound!" Keystone partner Chris Woodward is a fan favorite, too, as each time he makes a play, "Crowds Whir Ado."
Concern may reign about the glovework of one Eric Hinske, but look back on the trade that brought him to Canada -- "Nice Risk, Eh?"
Does DH Joshua Lee Phelps need a personal trainer? One who can motivate him while telling the manager he needs to "Shape Up; He's Jello." If Phelps is at all concerned that a current teammate might perform well enough to run him out of town, he probably should discount the threat of Reed Johnson -- he's "No Josh Ender."
Poor Frank Catalanotto; he continues to play well and not get the recognition he deserves. Turn on any talk radio sports segment, and you can be sure "Talk Ran Not of a Cat." It's more likely that speculation might run about whether or not Vernon Wells III is benefitting from SkyDome or whether or not he'd be "Livelier in Snow."
On the hill, HLH -- you do know what that stands for by now, don't you? -- inspires grateful cries as he busts another inside fastball: "Holy Radar! Yeah, a Rally!" But will that all come crashing to an end when Justin Speier trots in from the bullpen to try to close it out? Will the Blue Jay Cheer Club have to report its "Input is Jeers"?
So there you have it ... the starting lineup, a starting pitcher and a reliever and the manager. Who else gets a personal anagram this year?
And have you figured out that headline yet?
