I was reading a synopsis of the history of Gus Macker’s tournament last week on Macker’s official website. Tournament founder Scott McNeal put together a 3-on-3 hoops tournament in his family’s driveway in 1974, as the website states, and it has continued to grow over the past 35 years. McNeal, who stands not much taller than me (I am 5-foot-7 at the correct angle under the sun) is nicknamed “Gus Macker,” and the tournament is named for his nickname.
I started to think, how does a person named Scott McNeal earn the label Gus Macker? I get the “Mac” portion of Macker, but what about the rest? Gus? Is there some secret decoding or anagram here? Let’s just chalk up McNeal’s alter ego as some inside information.
Other nicknames are natural, albeit trite fits. Ever met a person named Smith who wasn’t called “Smitty?” Know any Jones’ affectionately called “Jonesy?”
I like the use of a hyphen as it creates a nickname out of an abbreviation. J-LO, A-Rod, K-Fed, K-Rod, and P-Diddy come to mind. Wait, I must correct myself, I’m not exactly sure what Sean Combs is calling himself these days, and I’m not 100 percent sure if he even has a hyphen.
Combs has achieved such a high level of importance, he arbitrarily changes his nickname and renames himself about every three or four years.
In sports vernacular, few were better named than Lou Gehrig (The Iron Horse), Julius Erving (Dr. J), and Joe Louis (The Brown Bomber) to name three of many.
Other great athletes assumed the nickname as their first name: George Herman Ruth became “Babe,” and in our era, Eldrick Woods is identified as Tiger. Few have ever shown the steeliness of Woods, although I would not go so far to say he has “The Eye of the Tiger,” nor would I ever be comfortable cheering for an Eldrick.
Around here, one of my good friends was called “Rocko” growing up, and to this day, his good friends call him that name. Rocko is not short for Rocky, and Rocko – as near as I can tell – has no Italian blood running through him. I asked him one time why he is called Rocko, and he didn’t know the origin. Perhaps this column will stir the memories of Rocko and his friends.
Growing up, I had a few nicknames, many of which were due to the errant pronunciation of my last name. Others are not suitable for print here, although a buddy of mine, “Bubba” no less, began to call me sheik. No, it wasn’t my sartorial splendor or my élan. I was wearing a goatee at the time, and he likened my dark complexion and facial hair to that of a middle eastern male.
