Myrtle, Fortuna, and Pigpen Make for a Good Time

Some athletes are blessed with perfect names.

Take Rance Mulliniks, of the Toronto Blue lays. If my name was Rance Mulliniks. I wouldn't ask for anything else out of life.

Most athletes, however, aren't so lucky. Their names lack that little spark so essential to a successful sports career.

George Herman Ruth would have been a loser; Babe Ruth will never be forgotten.

And just about the only exciting thing on the Red Sox this year is Oil Can Boyd--his name even more than his admittedly fine pitching.

Nicknames are an integral part of all sports, whether at the professional or amateur level.

So while baseball fans all across the country scream for "Yen-Yen" Moreno, fans right here in Cambridge have their own bevy of fun nicknames cheer--those of the Harvard softball team.

"Nicknames make people feel like part of the team," Co-Captain Ann "Trees" Wilson says. "If your nickname happens to annoy you, what can you do?"

"I think it's nice because it helps bond the team, when we're all calling each other names that we have picked," pitcher Janet "Lefty" Dickerman says. "It's funny, though, because all nicknames come from stupid things."

Contrary to Dickerman's claim, however, not all nicknames have "stupid" beginnings--some are downright intellectual in origin.

Mary Paul and Lisa Rowning were in "Art and Politics" lecture one day when they saw slide of the Goddess Fortuna. Paul began calling her teammate "Fortuna," and the name stuck.

"They only saw," Co-captain briefly," Co-Captain Joan Cunningham, explains. "It was probably a goddess-like figure, and it probably had blonde hair." Rowning (a blonde) concedes, "I couldn't do much about it."

Another nickname partially related to hair color is pitcher Gerri Rubin's.

"One day she wore red Vuarnets, and a batting helmet, and she was running around like a blonde bombshell," Paul says. "We call Gerri 'Bomb,' and sometimes that turns into 'Cherrybomb.'

"I was just being crazy one day at practice," Rubin protests.

Other nicknames reveal character--of a sort.

Jane McHugh has earned the tag "Tact and Decorum", or "T&D" for short. "Jane has a habit of saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time--in a cute way," Wilson explains.

Cunningham is fondly called "Joan of Arc" by her teammates, because of her habit of leading them in large arcs around the outfield when the squad runs between the foul lines to warm up.

"Joan doesn't run straight lines," freshman Callie Huber says. "You know how Joan of Arc was a martyr--that's what she makes me think of."

Center fielder Hanya Bluestone is called "Bad Ass". "She is fearless. She just wants to have fun, and she has no inhibitions," Paul says.

From Bluestone's nickname sprang another term of endearment.

Shortstop Sharon Hayes heard people calling Bluestone "Bad A" one day, and was confused She didn't know if they were saying Betty, Benny, or Penny.

In retaliation, in squad began to call Hayes "Betty".

Furthermore, the top four hitters in the lineup--Bluestone, Mary Baldauf, Gia Barresi and Trisha Brown--are known as the Killer B's.

Hayes bats fifth in the lineup, and one day Coach John Wentzell complained that her last name didn't begin with a B as well, to fit into the pattern.

Since then, it's been "Betty Bayes".

Some nicknames reflect playing style, as in the case of aggressive "Pigpen" Baldauf.

"She's always in the dirt," Huber says. "Even on a dry day, she can find places to get dirty."

"We've called Mary Baldauf every name in the book at one time or another, mostly having to do with the fact that she was filthy," Cunningham adds.

Sometimes the players look to ethnic association for inspiration in name-giving.

Catcher Barresi is "Paisan," defined in the dictionary as an Italian countryman. And freshman Suzanne Cocca is "Paisan, Jr." -"Because she's Italian, too," Huber says.

Some names come directly from other names. "Last year's captain asked me what my middle name was," notes Wilson. "I said 'Terese', but she thought I said 'Trees'. They still call me that."

"Also, she's such a good hitter that we say that she'll reach the trees," Paul emphasizes.

Initials, too, can spawn nicknames; P aul is M.P. while Brown is T.B.

My own mother, whose first name is Vivian, balks at being identified by her initials, but the courageous Brown insists that she is not afraid of being confused with a disease.

"All my friends at home call me T.B., too, "she insists."

The initials themselves are sometimes transformed with J's often becoming H's.

Thus McHugh becomes "Hane" instead of "Jane", and Cunningham's "Joan" is mangled beyond recognition into "Hoanawanafusco".

"I don't know why, we just call her that," Paul explains. "It turns out she went out with Scott Fusco's younger brother in grade school."

Even the mysterious world of the subconscious can contribute to the treasury of nicknames.

"One name that stuck more than she would have liked is Mary MacKinnon's--'Myrtle,'" Cunningham says.

While the team was at spring training in Myrtle Beach, S.C., MacKinnon's roommate heard her mumble in her sleep, "Myrtle, what a stupid bird." The next night she did it again.

In addition to being permanently tagged "Myrtle". MacKinnon was lucky enough to receive an ugly, black bird as a present at the team's post-season banquet.

On a team with three Marys, however, nicknames are practically essential. "When John [Wentzell] calls 'Mary, the ball is coming to you,' three people would turn their heads," Wilson explains.

"It's fun if people have nicknames but you can't force it," Cunningham says. "We had a lot of spontaneous nicknames popping out."

Paul agrees: "It's the same principle--we say anything that comes to mind, but we always know who we're talking to."