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In 2003, renowned one-trick pony author Bruce Lansky published The Mother of All Baby Name Books, one of nine on the subject the obsessive Lansky has assembled over the years. Purported to have over 94,000 entries, there are certainly a variety of strange and unique names within its pages, possibly even those of the following celebrity progeny: Aurelius Cy (Elle Macpherson), Anais (Noel Gallagher), Apple (Gwyneth Paltrow) and Audio Science (Shannyn Sossamon). And that's just a mere fraction of the A's. Before long, some self-absorbed movie star is going to build upon Gallagher's work and select a certain anatomical vulgarity and really turn the kid upside-down — so to speak.
Other than the Jeeves/servitude connection, no industry benefits from appropriate human nomenclature more than sports. A well-chosen name can mean the difference between backup and All Star, plodder and speedster, wayward scrub and chicks-dig-the-long-ball stud.
The evidence is incontrovertible. Audio Science will never throw the winning touchdown pass in the Super Bowl, and although Aurelius might make a good Planet of the Apes orangutan military leader, there is no chance he'll strike out the side in the bottom of the ninth to close out the Series. Not unless he's willing to drop his lugubrious first name and go by the fantastic baseball name "Cy", which would instantaneously transform him into a first ballot Hall of Fame superstar hurler whom chicks can dig. Without the long ball.
With all that said, the following are five first names and their roles in the destiny of various sports figures:
William
Properly utilized, William (or derivations thereof) is a top-notch sports figure name. The key to predetermining a William's future is in the nickname. Willie is almost always fast — that's a general truism — and is typically an all-around wunderkind. Willie Mays, Willie Brown, Willie Stargell exemplify the name; even 19th century star right fielder "Wee Willie" Keeler fit the mould when pumping his tiny little midget legs around the base paths. Billy is similar to Willie except he's even faster, without an ounce of upper body strength whatsoever. Billy Beane, Billy "White Shoes" Johnson, and Billy Sunday are classic examples. Bill, on the other hand, is slow, laborious, intelligent and numbingly dependable: Bill Russell, Bill Matlock, Bill Bradley and Bill Mazeroski typify that iteration. Lastly, William itself is certainly workable, but only if the player is a mutant giant, as in the likes of William "the Refrigerator" Perry. A Willie or Billy had to be fast, or he would eat them.
Walter
Admittedly, it's not as ubiquitous as William, but it's an underrated name not solely limited to men aged 90 or above. Walter perseveres through self-perceived old man limitations and despite not dazzling the fans with blinding speed, he'll put numbers in the books. Walter Payton garnered over 16,000 total yards rushing, Walter Jones anchored the Seahawks' left tackle slot for a decade, and Walter Johnson utilized freakish torque to record 3,509 strikeouts over a 21-year career. Truncate it to Walt and he becomes instantly stronger, faster and meaner: Walt Frazier, Walt Bellamy, Walt Tkachuk and Walt Weiss come to mind. On the other hand, give him the impossibly idiotic nickname Wally and he has either a ludicrously short (Wally Pipp) or an improbably long career (Wally Joyner, Wally Szczerbiak, Wally Hilgenberg). Strangely enough, it has even less speed than the other versions of Walter. Either way, he's basically a dork — not that all Walters aren't.
Richard
One of the most versatile of names in real life, Richard is like an arid desert with a jagged, shrouded mountain in the middle. You'd think Richie would emulate Willie and connote quickness, but it's more of an anti-speed nickname like Wally except with freakish strength: Richie Ashburn, Richie Sexson, Richie Zisk, Richie Anderson. Shorten it further to Rich and guess what? There's nobody! On the other hand, Dick morphs him into a slow, white, 1960's pro football linebacker: Dick Butkus, Dick Cunningham, Dick Arndt and Dick Hart, for example. Lastly, back to the desert with Richard (nothing that matters), but climb quickly up the mountain with the serviceable-if-not-spectacular Rick/Ricky (Rick Monday, Ricky Watters, Rickey Dudley, Rick Adelman, Rick Barry).
James
James is a great name, appropriate in all circles and circumstances, whether whipping donkeys in a field (the Bible) or catching touchdown passes (James Lofton). Without utilizing its nicknames, it's exclusively a football name for sure-handed slot receivers or defensive backs (Lofton, James Adkisson, James Griffin), mediocre running backs (James Betterson, James Bostic, James Ford) and average calibre linebackers (James Allen, James Anderson, James Folston). Jimmy is tiny, fast and just a little bit crazy: Jimmy Allen, Jimmy Gobble, Jimmy Parades. But the manna from Heaven derivation in terms of sports name success is Jim. Jim will hit 30 homers, score three touchdowns, swish the three-pointer with one second left and throw that winning touchdown pass in the Super Bowl: Jim Thome, Jim Thorpe, Jim Paxon and Jim Plunkett. If you want a hero, name the kid Jim. Just don't spell it something abhorrent like J'him.
Tavaris
Being a real-life Seahawks fan, I am painfully aware of two quintessential certainties: the Seahawks will never win the Super Bowl, and they sure as hell aren't going to win it with a guy named Tavaris at the helm. Why is this name spotlighted? To wit: the name Tavaris cannot work for a pro football quarterback. This isn't to suggest current starter Tavaris Jackson didn't battle through injuries and game-manage to the best of his abilities during the 2011 NFL season. He did. However, that's akin to saying I belted out La Traviata to my utmost potential. I can't sing, I don't like opera and I don't know Italian. LIkewise, although a Tavaris may work adequately at wide receiver or on the defensive line, as a quarterback name it's a complete non-starter. Jackson will add ten years to his career by switching positions to wide receiver. Better still, by changing his name to Willie.
There you have it. Five first names and their possibilities with respect to sports careers. Whether it's Fred, Frank, Bubba or even Tavaris, there's almost always a requisite place for the uninitiated if care is taken toward finding the right slot. Word of advice: just don't name the poor tyke Myron. There's only so much one can do with that lump of soggy clay.
Walter McLaughlin - I am a 47-year old commercial banker living in the Seattle area. I am an avid sports fan, but also greatly enjoy writing satirical, ...
