Our ongoing quest, in the manner of a noble knight-errant, is to assign cool nicknames to players rather than indulge in the tired paradigm of assigning cool players nicknames. Before we launch the latest installment, however, a trip through our Hall of Honouur, which is so stately, so regal, so much itself a celebration of the Norman Conquest, that an extra British-English unstressed “u” is required for proper spelling. …
“Bad Miracle” – Wily Mo Peña
“Captain Black Tobacco” – John Danks
“$45 Couch” – Yuniesky Betancourt
“Liván Hernández” – Liván Hernández
“Frog in the Pot” – Carlos Zambrano
“Aqua Velva Man” – Chase Utley
“Victorian Sex Rebel” – John Axford
“Good, Round Friend” – Prince Fielder
“I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass” – Kyle Farnsworth
And the nickname now available for purchase? It’s “Interrobang”!
Denotations, Connotations, Implications, Intimations, and Incriminations:
What, who or why is “Interrobang”? It is the greatest and most neglected of punctuation constructs. It is represented by this: “?!” Or this: “!?” Or, on occasions most special, this:
As you can imagine, the interrobang poses a question — “What?” — followed by an exclamation and or whoop — “Shit, golly!” It is a moment — or a man, or a man and his moments — that is equal parts stupefaction and awe. “Did he just do that? Fuck my idiot face, he just did that!”
Prototypes from Baseball’s Gauzy Past:
Greatness with flair. Greatness in defiance of human limits. Ozzie Smith. Sir Dick Allen. Mike Schmidt. Pedro Martinez. Babe Ruth. Willie Mays. Bob Feller. And it need not be sustained greatness. Bo Jackson. Mark Fidrych. Or the opposite of Rico Brogna.
Guiding, Determinative Query:
What current major-league player should be nicknamed “Interrobang”?!
The convention floor, which is filled with gaping maws and Sans-a-belt slacks pooled around pale, hairy ankles, is open for nominations.
Print This Post