Who's Got a Nickname?

Every kid secretly wants a nickname. Correction - every kid secretly wants a good nickname. Some of us were given monikers by our parents that - while endearing at the time - we were glad never made it into the public's consciousness. As a child my mom called me Shorty (you can imagine my relief when this died out). To be clear, my brother was very tall growing up, so stop snickering please.

 

 

Being a few years younger than my brother, his friends transferred his nickname to me, modifying it by adding the word Little (yes, yes, ha ha) in front of it. So I became Little Booge (origin unknown, but the oo is pronounced like the oo in oops - the e is silent). Eventually, after my brother moved on, my friends dropped Little (hallelujah) and interchangeably called me Booge, Bergy or Burglar (after a youthful indiscretion that included petty theft, a batting glove and a Montgomery Wards security guard).

 

 

Anyhoo, only Bergy followed me beyond high school. In fact, the nickname was so commonly used by friends in college that some people did not know my first name until well into our freshmen year. Even now, hearing my first name used by people that have always called me Bergy seems strange, as if they must be referring to some other Eric.

 

 

Not all of us were lucky enough to have a nickname we liked. Typically, it was appearance or circumstances that thrust an unwanted nickname upon someone. I still remember a Little League baseball game (maybe 5th or 6th grade) in which a teammate earned a nickname he never could shake. Our pitcher was struggling. The coach walked slowly to the mound to see if our guy could continue throwing. Apparently, the break was too long for our right fielder. He had turned his back to the mound, unzipped his pants and was happily watering the outfield grass. To this day I have no idea what his real name is because from that day forward he was known only as . . . Whizzer.

 

 

Good nicknames like that don't seem to be around much anymore. Most nicknames (like mine) are nothing more than a version of a first or last name - Karpy, Kal, Birdie, Bago. While they are meaningful, they lack the flair and individuality of a High Pockets, Wheels or Whizzer. Such nicknames imply an excellent story is lurking somewhere behind the label.

 

 

What follows are eight of my favorite nicknames. Many of these people are so interwoven with their nickname that their real name exists side by side with its more colorful counterpart.

 

 

Catfish: The Oakland A's star pitcher was given the name Catfish by A's owner Charlie Finley because he wanted the dry-witted Jim Hunter to have an Andy Griffith backstory. Hunter obliged after enduring a World Series loss with the classic line, "Well, the sun doesn't shine on a dog's ass everyday."







Shoeless: Joe Jackson, the immortal ballplayer who tormented Major League pitchers in the first two decades of the 20th century, played without shoes only once. Before becoming a big leaguer, blisters from new cleats had worn the bottoms of his feet raw during a townball game. Undaunted, Jackson stepped into the batter's box in stocking feet and promptly hit a triple. "Say it ain't so Joe!" 







The Greatest: Alternately called The Mouth That Roared early in his boxing career, Cassius Clay/Muhammad Ali called himself The Greatest before ever fighting a championship bout. Still, his anti-war convictions (Ali refused induction into the U.S. Army, memorably saying at the height of the Civil Rights Movement, "No Vietcong ever called me Nigger") cost him his title but made him more than a fighter, more than an athlete. He was transformed into a cultural icon for his willingness to lose everything - even his freedom - in order to keep his dignity and self-respect.   



Pee Wee: Harold Reese was a national marbles champion as a kid. Anyone who has ever had a bag of marbles knows what a pee wee is - synonymous with size and accuracy. The pint-sized shortstop of the Brooklyn Dodgers, circa 1940-50's, was a superb fielder and teammate. His abilities on the field pale, however, to his credentials as a gentleman ballplayer. Reese is forever linked to Jackie Robinson, a black man Reese could have resented (Reese was a southern-born Kentuckian), but who instead welcomed Robinson into the Dodger clubhouse, thus opening the door a little wider for the integration of professional sports.



Magic: Quick, how many of you know Magic Johnson's first name? If your answer was Earvin congrats. Now try to remember the last time you heard someone call him that. I can't either. While he redefined the point guard position in his playing days with the Los Angeles Lakers, his impact beyond the game has been immeasurable. The Announcement (I still remember exactly where I was when I saw him calmly and courageously tell the world he was HIV positive) changed for the better the way our culture treats people with AIDS medically and socially. Twenty-two years later he is still going strong. Magic.



Bubba: God love him, Bill Clinton just couldn't help himself. Whether it was his home state of Arkansas, his slow, southern drawl or how he just couldn't seem to resist trashy, young women - Bubba suited him. In the end, despite his record of achievements and boundless political gifts (charm the pants off you must have been coined with Bill in mind) he will probably be remembered for two things; squandering his Presidential opportunities by staining an intern's dress and being the first First Gentleman in U.S. history. You go, Hillary!



The Boss: Apparently, his concerts are unforgettable. I wouldn't know, but Bruce Springsteen and his E Street Band have been selling out venues since the mid-70's. He has been The Boss since his early days, before he hit the weight room and grew into his nickname. He is not for everyone - much like his idols Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie - but he has stood the test of time, like A Boss!



Chairman of the Board: I had to become an adult to appreciate Francis Albert Sinatra. Apparently, Ol' Blue Eyes was Elvis before Elvis. He redefined how songs were sung in the same way Marlon Brando changed the way actors acted. Sure a bit of a misogynist in his heyday (in a scene from the original Ocean's Eleven he slaps his girlfriend on the fanny and orders her to "go take a nap") but the entertainment industry back then was still an Old Boys' Club. Frank fit right in. Nonetheless, when the Chairman of the Board covered someone else's song it became his alone. Name another singer who could do that, ever? Fuggetaboutit!



No, I'm not about to dust off Shorty and try it on for size. I can, however, remove the mental block that has kept it buried in childhood for 35 years and smile when I think of it, and the mother who lovingly used it. After all, isn't that the beauty of nicknames? They can be expressions of love, inclusion, even admiration.

 

 

That goes for you too Whizzer.