Evolution of a Nickname

Hi everyone, my name is Dale.

Dale was not the name I was given on my day of birth. No, like many nicknames, this particular handle was given to me much later in life. The first time somebody called me Dale, I just knew it would stick. Nicknames are funny that way.

What’s in a name? Not much. What’s in a nickname? A whole hell of a lot.

I’d always hoped my nickname would be something cool. Perhaps a reference to Johnson size, something like the Hammer maybe. But see that’s the thing about nicknames…you can’t pick them. In high school, I thought it made sense that my nickname would be D-Mac but it just never materialized. See our high school already had a D-Mac.

So until that unforgettable day, my name was simply Dave.

It was a day like any other in high school. Early in the semester, students were all eager to make a good first impression with their newest lot of educators. David MacDonald was no different. As I walked into that English class, my goal was simple. Keep a low profile. Get in and get out type of thing. The attendance sheet made its way around the room and I found myself temporarily distracted by the soothing baritones of the teacher as she set the stage for what sounded like a terrifying semester. The attendance sheet skipped by but my seat mate, let’s call him the Ram Man (Another excellent nickname story) assured me that my name had been recorded.

It came time for the first call out of the year. A question was posed to the scholarly gathering, a question that I knew I could not answer. The inquisitor glanced down at the attendance sheet in front of her and stalked her first victim.

“Dale” she said sternly…

I was off the hook. I had dodged the impending embarrassment and some poor sap named Dale was now on the hot seat.

“Dale” she repeated, this time with an intensity that made me pity poor Dale.

It was the first day of the semester and the new kid (I didn’t know any Dales at this school) had been called on to answer the most complicated of questions. Poor, poor Dale. As I glanced up from my desk, reality hit me like a high-speed locomotive. You see, that bull of a teacher was looking at me. That’s impossible I remember thinking. My name is David, Dave perhaps, but Dale?

“You are DALE!” she barked out her eyes locked directly on me.

You see the Ram Man had hoodwinked me. When filling out the attendance sheet, he had written DAVE with that V on an extreme angle giving it the appearance of an L. Yep, I was Dale and it was pretty clear I would be from that point on.

The name has evolved over the years. Dusty Daley…Dusty…Daley Double…Ding Dong Daley…LaDale. But in the end, among the Lads anyway, my name is Dale and it seems pretty clear it will be from here on out.

Like Yeamax, D wreck, Skeet, Bert, CC, White Ron, Dumpy, Hook, Latsy, Dirk, Anus, Clinger, Savs, Mick, Brode, Jules/Buckpitt, Stinky, Petey, Donzo, Smitty, Howie, Jammer, Foss, Dodd Dogg, Vonner, Kelvy, JWo, AM Radio, PermaBone, Dinkson, Zogs, Kaner, Cormer, the Big Sleeze, Ram Man/Crash Man, and the Hurricane all found out, the name you are given at birth rarely sticks.

Fat Cats Fever

The Ottawa Fat Cats are headed to the Intercounty Baseball League Finals. With last night’s 8-5 win over the Barrie Baycats, the Fatties completed a four game sweep of the hapless Baycats and now await their next victim in the championship series.

Fat Cats second baseman and Birthday Lad Chris Latimer paced the attack for the home side, collecting a couple hits and two huge RBIs which came off a clutch, based-loaded, two out hit early in the game. Following Latimer’s knock, both dugouts emptied over an alleged spitting incident. Despite a lot of tremendously tough talking from the Baycats, cooler heads prevailed and Ottawa cruised to victory.

In-game entertainment was top notch as always, with Grape delighting the 3,400 fans in attendance. The tax-man took a tennis ball directly off the neck and can-of-pop won the Concession Stand Race. And in perhaps the highlight of the afternoon, the team’s GM attempted to snag a foul ball hit into the stands but instead spiked it off the head of an unsuspecting elderly gentleman seated in front of him. LOLs were had by all.

With a 26-9 record, The Baycats were the league’s top team over the course of the regular season but had no answer for the hard-hitting Cats. This post was extremely difficult to write considering both teams are called the Cats. I’d like to propose that Barrie change their name to the Barry's Bay Baseballs or the Fat Cats become the Latches. Either way.

Stay tuned for more information on the IBL Championship Series as it becomes available.

Fat Cats Fever. Catch it!

The Dustiest

The grizzled veteran of the blog scene. Think George Foreman before he got all hung up on grills for some reason. I was bloggin' before most people even knew what a blog was. There is a good chance I invented blogs and just haven't got around to taking proper credit. To think, this could have been called a Dale.

But enough about me, let me tell you a little bit about myself.

I'm here to keep everyone up to speed on the city's 2nd most popular sports franchise, the Ottawa Senators. Despite the departure of key cogs like Jarkko Ruutu and Alex Kovalev, the Senators are scheduled to ice a team this coming fall. Stay tuned.

In order to properly prepare to participate in this blog, I spent the majority of the afternoon googlin' the word latch I think I'm pretty much up to speed. Latchford is a small town on the shores of Bay Lake and the Montreal River. They recently lifted the boil water advisory which is great news. Twitter tells me there is a Big Latch-On this weekend. Probably gonna sit that one out.

My contributions will be limited to times when I am hungover. I find that's when I do my best work.

Think you're having a rough day? Beers for none, LOLz for all.