So many weighty issues looming over the sport right now. Is Roger Federer the best ever? Are Rafael Nadal and Ana Ivanovic doomed? What the heck is Andy Murray wearing?
I’ve been thinking the last few days about something less topical: player names. A couple of events led me there, besides the fact that, like any sportswriter scrounging for a pun, I enjoy a good name. One was a recent post I did where I contemplated the inexplicable stutter in Roger Federer’s last name. Another was a book I finished a little while ago about the Pittsburgh Steelers in the 1970s by Roy Blount, Jr., called Three Bricks Shy of a Load. Its most entertaining chapter consisted of the author reflecting on what he considered the greatest names in sports history. He finally decided that his favorite had belonged to a football player whom he’d known while attending Vanderbilt University. Snake Grace was the name—I have to admit, it’s a tough one to beat. Blount Jr., was in the same fraternity as Mr. Grace. He says that every time the lanky QB would appear in the distance and start walking toward a gathering of people, “Someone would pop his head up and yell, ‘Snake!’ for no real reason, and everyone would feel good.” I love that story—it makes me feel good just imagining the scene. A friend's name can do that to you.
The third reason is that tennis has, and always has had, the best names in sports. How couldn’t it? It pulls them from all over the world, it includes women as well as men, and unlike, say, soccer, there’s no dopey team moniker to get in the way of matching an individual's personality to his or her name. I’ve always found it perversely satisfying to hear local sportscasters botch and then mock the fancy, multi-syllabic foreign monikers they’re forced to (mis)pronounce three or four times a year. It makes me feel like being a tennis fan, like being a tennis player, is something you have to earn.
It’s worth it, of course, because this is the sport that, if it has done nothing else, has given the world names like Gabriela Sabatini, Vitas Gerulaitis, Slobodan Zivojinovic, Jean Borotra, Pat Cash, Virginia Ruzici, Cedric Pioline, Andre Agassi, Hans Gildemeister, Lew Hoad, Torben Ulrich, Jack Kramer, Pancho Gonzalez, Wotjek Fibak, Tony Roche, Ion Tiriac, Althea Gibson, Ken Rosewall, Evonne Goolagong, Arthur Ashe, Adriano Panatta, Ellsworth Vines, and hundreds of other two word poems. As well as, of course, the very finest and most mellifluously fitting name in the history of any sport: Ilie Nastase.
Who keeps up this tradition today? It’s a wilder world than ever out there, especially if you’re an Anglo like me. These days even a name as iconic as Venus Williams can seem a little too easy, and a name as normal as Andy Murray can begin to sound almost exotic in its plainness. Scrolling down the Top 50 on the men’s and women’s sides today, these are the names that caught my eye. Keep in mind, for whatever it's worth, that it's a Stateside eye.
Rafael Nadal: It's decent. Rafael sounds noble to an American ear—though is it just the Spanish equivalent of Ralph? Nadal, aside from being original in tennis, suits him. The “d” looks and sounds appropriately bold at the center.
Roger Federer: As I’ve said, Roger is comfortably old-fashioned and friendly, but Federer, while it will one day be immortal the way Laver and Tilden are, makes me feel like I’m mumbling.
Dinara Safina: Gets points for first-name originality, but Marat is a tough one to follow.
Novak Djokovic: Highly original, and the first and last names flow well. If only we could get the last one right. He told me once that it’s pronounced “Dj-yuk-ovic.” Not “joke” or “jock”—as far as I can tell, there’s a tiny “y” sound in there that doesn’t come naturally to English-only speakers, so I guess he lives with the imperfect pronunciations.
!In Juan Martin del Potro: Again, there’s a noble and ancient cast to this name, like a character from Don Quixote. Apparently it doesn’t come naturally to Americans either. Standing in line for a night session at the U.S. Open last year, a buttoned-down young man looked up at the big screen to see that del Potro was still on court against Murray, and that the gates wouldn’t open until that match was over. He spun around and yelled at no one in particular, “Flub it, Du Pont!” (I’ve told this story before, but I only have so much material, so please forgive me.)
Victoria Azarenka: The first name captures her hauteur, the last name her sharp and sometimes grating edge.
Fernando Verdasco: So perfect that if it were a movie star’s name, you would know he made it up. His real name would be Fred Ventura.
Urszula Radwanska: Hard to untangle when you say it, but it's great to read—or at least look at. Like a Thelonious Monk (speaking of great names) composition, it gets points for thorniness.
Jo-Wilfried Tsonga: The first name is fancier than our Joe Willie, and the second syllable of the last name seems to rebound off my tongue.
Sabine Lisicki: Sabine is very nice, and I like the harsh way the second syllable of her last name sounds when it’s overemphasized.
Fabrice Santoro: What else could someone with this name have been other than a tennis player?
Aravane Rezai: Yes, there’s a French theme here; they do names well (though is Rezai Iranian by ethnicity?). Whatever the origin, Aravane is so smooth, simple, and original, it’s a shame she isn’t a better player.
Igor Andreev: Even better when you pronounce it "Eye-Gore," Young Frankenstein-style.
Sorana Cirstea: Dense, rhythmic, symmetrical
Dudi Sela: Heh, Dudi
Fabio Fognini: Preposterously good, but kind of like “Mardy Fish,” it’s hard to imagine anyone with this name taking himself seriously enough to become No. 1 in the world. Parents should have thought of that.
Gael Monfils: As Michael Wilbon of ESPN’s PTI proved during the French Open, it’s fun to say “Monfeeeeeees!!!” Extra points for the feminized nickname, La Monf.
Marcos Baghdatis: Born to be a goof
Drumroll, please, as we’ve come to what I would contend is the best name in the current Top 50:
Yes, it belongs to . . . Potito Starace: The first name is comic and musical, and the second must be pronounced correctly to get the full, multi-syllabic Italian effect: It’s stah-RAH-che. Both names just better the more you exaggerate them.
I’ll be back Friday with Wimbledon previews. Of the players, not their names.