Name calling

We have a penchant for giving leaders, celebrities and athletes another name or title, coined to either praise or despise them. No one does it better than the media, especially in sports.

Playing has a way to reveal character and style that athletes earn a unique moniker for. Mark Philippoussis was called The Scud for his blinding aces. Strangely, his service missiles didn’t earn him a slam. Martina Hingis was nicknamed the Smiling Assassin for showing her pearly whites while playing. Up close though, she only smiled half the time. It’s either she grimaces or just opens her mouth. But she is best remembered for her brilliance that worked best for an otherwise mental game until the sister act of Venus and Serena brought power to women’s tennis and sent her packing to retirement. She called it foot injury though.

Hingis won five slams minus the French Open. Ironic, its slow surface should have been ideal for her tactical game. Twice she was close. The first final she lost to injury and the other to a lady named Steffi. A set and a break down, vintage Graf turned the match around to win her 22nd slam with a little help from the French crowd who schooled Hingis on respect and boundaries. Vera Zvonareva at least disrespected no one but herself each time she vents frustration, but her antics crowned her Tantrums Queen just the same.

Usain Bolt, the fastest human in history, retired as Lightning Bolt, what else. Merlene Ottey was minted Bronze Queen for her string of runner-up finishes in the Olympics and the worlds, then Dowager Queen for her longevity. Others were not named but should have been. Tennis Siren is perfect for Maria Sharapova to mirror her looks and echo her grunts.

Some call June Mar Fajardo the Kraken for his extraordinary size. I’d call him the Mammoth from the South as testament to his enormity and origin. Way before him, Ramon Fernandez was proclaimed El Presidente for his court supremacy, Robert Jaworski the Big J for his never say die grit, Noli Locsin The Tank for his hefty trunk, Johnny Abarrientos the Flying A for defying gravity and Vince Hizon was crowned Vince the Prince for looking more regal than the royals.

But the ultimate accolade is to be immortalized as the goat. Not the military academy graduate tail ender, but the greatest of all time. In basketball, Michael Jordan is. Right after retirement, he was exalted as the best there ever was, the best there is, and the best there ever will be. Nothing else describes him any better. Others may disagree but let’s all leave it to history. Someone from the future will be born to rewrite it.

 Just as notorious world leaders go down in history as tyrants, dictators, thieves, murderers or plunderers. Oddly, not all people punish them for such heinous crimes against humanity, some are too forgiving they take them back like nothing happened. But the short memory of others does not change the victim’s history or herstory. If no one tells, fate will. The truth from the past haunts the forgetful present to redirect the future. That’s why we should live our lives to better others, in whatever way possible, big or small. Many may call acts of kindness charity. I call it legacy.