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The 2020 MLB Draft is over, and that quite obviously means it's time to rank the most aesthetically pleasing names of all those who were selected over a pathetically abbreviated span of five rounds. This tradition -- which dates back to 2012 and which no one asked for in the first place -- typically entails ranking 20 or 25 names on basis of phonetics and righteous implications. Because this draft was a shorter and also perhaps because the author has flat run out of jokes, this year's edition contains just 15 names. Gather your blessings where you find them. 

So we have vetted the entire database of draftees to arrive at what we consider, with some level of time-tested authority, to be the most soaring of draft names. We're also listing each young man's draft position, so that if you wish, you may verify that, yes, this person exists and lives and breathes among us, thus making us better as a people. We have also taken the liberty of telling you what each name evokes within the imagination -- i.e., what each name sounds like. We come not to mock, but rather to celebrate and perhaps envy. 

Now, with apologies in advance, let us begin ...

15. Baron Radcliffe, No. 146 overall, Phillies

Sounds like: Legal term for passing a highway patrolman using the shoulder of the road in a thrice-repossessed station wagon while leaning over and fishing through the glove box for a soft pack of Kent 100s just as the odometer hits 300,000.

14. Joe Boyle, No. 143 overall, Reds

Sounds like: Idiom for when someone is left permanently in need of an eyepatch over a mini-baccarat debt of exactly $88. "You hear about Clyde Bonanza? Poor sum buck got Joe Boyled in Reno."

13. Alerick Soularie, No. 59 overall, Twins

Sounds like: Paris arrondissement known for cobblestone boulevards and an overabundance of persistently desperate, brawling cheesemongers.

12. Blaze Jordan, No. 89 overall, Red Sox

Sounds like: Union colonel who singlehandedly won the Battle of Snake Bible Ridge using only a set of fireplace tools. Now the name of a leading brand of deodorant for the backs of catchers' knees.

11. Petey Halpin, No. 95 overall, Indians

Sounds like: Fifth grade ne'er-do-well at Chuck Mangione Elementary School. At recess proved that drinking Coke with Pop Rocks in it will not, in point of fact, cause your stomach to explode and kill you. However, he broke both legs and his collarbone in the process. Grew up to become last living person nicknamed "Swifty."

10. Emerson Hancock, No. 6 overall, Mariners

Sounds like: Drive-time DJ at AM radio station devoted to national anthems of U.N. member states. 

9. Cade Cavalli, No. 22 overall, Nationals

Sounds like: On-the-brink chocolatier who's 45 seconds from making the worst mistake of his life.

8. Jimmy Glowenke, No. 68 overall, Giants

Sounds like: Beloved former shooting guard at Hudspeth County Community College. Across two seasons averaged 20.3 points per game on 24.6 percent shooting with 1.1 rebounds per game and four total assists. Now appears in poorly lit local TV spots for Pig Brothers Mortgage Originators. "Tell 'em Ol' Jimmy 11-for-38 sent ya!" he says before pointing and smiling, but not blinking, at the camera for 11 interminable seconds at the conclusion of each commercial.

7. Tink Hence, No. 63 overall, Cardinals

Sounds like: Title of a zen koan that, if recited by the pure of heart, teleports you to the nearest open liquor store.

6. Burl Carraway, No. 51 overall, Cubs

Sounds like: Motor Trend Getaway Car of the Year for 1977. Features breakaway hood; combustible rear tires; and gear slots for the column-mounted shift stick that read "D," "N," "R," and "Watch This S---."

5. Stevie Emanuels, No. 157 overall, A's

Sounds like: Petey Halpin's best friend at Chuck Mangione Elementary School. At recess, he pushed Halpin out of the oak tree and onto an exposed drainage culvert 30 feet below as he drank Coke with Pop Rocks in it. Later made amends by giving Halpin his headless Hercules Massacre action figure (see below). Managed to pull a C in Mr. Fernsby's science class by perpetrating a scaled-down version of the Spanish Prisoner confidence scam.

4. Spencer Torkelson, No. 1 overall, Tigers

Sounds like: Real name of pro wrestling heel Hercules Massacre. Lost the United States of America World Heavyweight Championship to Frankie Outstanding. Was able to steal belt back at Violence Bash XIV by dressing up like Frankie Outstanding and pinning himself.

3. Daxton Fulton, No. 40 overall, Marlins

Sounds like: Six-foot-11 Lubbock wildcatter who negotiated for the subterranean drilling rights of every Whataburger property. Standard contract reads: "What lies beneath this Whataburger soil belongs to Daxton Lard A'mighty Fuller. Herein fail not." Dropped off the map in the winter of '93, but he'll back. Don't you worry about that.

2. Dillon Dingler, No. 38 overall, Tigers

Sounds like: Local bad seed banned from state fair for allegedly selling werewolf meat corn dogs. Appeal hearing before the Oklahoma Board of Corn Dogs is pending. 

1. Clayton Beeter, No. 66 overall, Dodgers

Sounds like: Industry parlance among used car salesmen for a Datsun pickup with dried boogers affixed like limestone stalactites to the underside of the driver's seat. 

People, this has been what is had been -- no less and certainly, surely no more.