While watching game one of the American League Championship Series on Friday night, I learned that the Tampa Bay Rays have a pitcher named Grant Balfour, an unfortunate appellation for one in his profession, akin to a surgeon named Ima Vivisectya or Chance O’Complications.
It’s not, of course, the first time one has possessed a name uniquely suited (or unsuited) for his chosen field. I have friends who know Lester Wang, a medical doctor specializing in urology, a line of work that former NASCAR driver Dick Trickle, lamentably, did not pursue.
Joe Strummer? Sounds like a coffeehouse singer. Shoulda been Joe Kingofthefreakinguniverse. Barry White? The Barry’s right, but no one of my hue has ever owned such a boudoir baritone. James Brown? Close, I suppose, but as his song goes, James Sayitloudimblackandimproud.
The phenomenon even strikes here at
Teenage Kicks. You know the only way to stop a certain middle-aged rock and roll blogger in a pickup hoops game? Trip McClatchy.
