Oh, boy. What is that child doing in there? You see him,
right? A male offspring has sprung. The
son
is rising. He’s following his
Master.

I weighed the headline writer’s words very carefully, and I
feel that they came up 2,000 pounds short. I cannot allow you to carry on,
wayward
son.
The full name of the trophy referred to in the article is
the Bill Masterton Memorial Trophy. It’s named in honor of William John
Masterton, a center who played for the National Hockey League’s Minnesota North
Stars in the expansion team’s inaugural season, 1967-68, and scored the first
goal in franchise history. On Jan. 13, 1968, in a home game against the Oakland
Seals, Masterton, 29, was checked by a couple of defenders. When he fell, the
back of his head hit the ice and he lost consciousness. (He wasn’t wearing a
helmet. In that era, helmets were not mandatory, and most players did not wear
them.) Two days later, the two-time NCAA champion at the University of Denver
died. Masterton is the only player to die directly from an injury suffered in
an NHL game. The North Stars retired his jersey in 1987, and when the team
relocated in 1993 and became the Dallas Stars, the honor remained,
even though he played exclusively for Minnesota. Masterton’s No. 19 hangs from
the rafters of Dallas’ American Airlines Center.
The headline’s middle word came undone when
ton became
son, but when it comes to errors, we’re not done. Tons more exist.
Well, not really. Just one. I’ll tell you about it.
Here goes.
When
goes grows,
an editor knows. As I gazed at
tgoes,
I knew an extra letter was the source of our woes. Which letter? If
g goes, we have
toes afoot. That doesn’t make sense.
G stays.
T goes. If we
trim that
goes t, what comes?
Goes.
Whenever you’re attempting to spell the present third-person
singular of
go, let me know. I’m your
go-to guy. I know we can’t have
goes
in the guise of
tgoes. My advice: If
you’re for
goes, forgo
t’s.
Irked by this run of puns?
Hey, on a blog, anything … well, you know.