This article appeared in the August 10^th, 2009 edition of American Baseball Perspective

Nicknames.  They infest the Planetary Extreme Baseball Alliance.  They are everywhere.  It seems one can’t swing a bat these days without running into a “Sparky” or “Moose” or “Widowmaker”.  Most of the time they seem harmless enough, explained away on a lazy late August afternoon by the home team color man somewhere between the seventh and ninth inning of an 11-0 shellacking.  But having conducted an exhaustive fifteen month investigation, we have discovered an unsettling truth about PEBA nicknames: many of the most cherished nicknames in the league’s lexicon have a “public” explanation and – often disappointingly – another more prosaic story behind them.

What follows is a discussion of some of those nicknames.  What you will learn may shock and amaze – or, as is often the case, make you lose any respect you may have had for the player in the first place.  This is by no means an exhaustive list; expect more information to follow.  Consider yourselves forewarned.

Kurt “Tempo” Thornton.  According to Gloucester , this nickname merely refers to Kurt’s ability to set the tempo in any lineup.  This explanation is usually peppered with the usual clichés regarding “hustle”, “playing for the love of the game” and being a “throwback”.  And there may be some truth to these descriptions, as this scrappy middle infielder does appear to have all of those traits.  However, when he was in high school, Kurt was known primarily for something else: his love for his 1987 Ford Tempo.  As a youth, Kurt was commonly seen cruising the berg of Garden Village, Michigan in that car.  If the ground effects, spoiler and 6 differently hued primer patches didn’t give Kurt away, then the REO Speedwagon he invariably cranked would.  Kurt reportedly cried the day the car died.  Unfortunately for him, this happened in front of many of his college teammates.  And the rest is history.

Víctor “Alibi” Matos.  The Arlington organization would have you believe that “alibi” relates to Victor’s childhood in Soap Lake, Washington.  The official story is that young Matos was nearly unhittable, even as a little leaguer.  As a result, even the best among his competitors would be given a free pass – an “alibi” if you will – from their coaches and overbearing fathers for going 0-5 when he was on the mound.  The truth is much more colorful.  It seems that as a young kid in the minors, Víctor had a taste for the company of the ladies.  As a result, his then-wife (second in a line of seven, and counting) was constantly calling teammates in order to keep tabs on him.  To counter this, and to ensure his large appetites were sated, Matos was always informing teammates what they were supposedly doing that evening (or had supposedly been doing when they were allegedly hanging out the night before) just in case his wife came around asking questions.

King “Boxy” Adams.  This highly-regarded recent Kalamazoo draft pick is among the best starting pitcher prospects in the game.  However, the story behind his nickname is something the Kalamazoo front office would rather not highlight because it makes Adams look like a fool.   Given the first name “King”, one would think that he has no need for an imposing nickname.  And one would be right.  Until recently, he didn’t have one.  The nickname came about when Adams was filling out paperwork to declare his eligibility for the PEBA draft.  A standard form requested Adams’s name and included a space for any applicable nickname.  When a confused Adams asked what to do if he had no nickname, he was told by a PEBA official to just check “Box E” indicating as much on the form.  Not understanding the instruction, Adams instead wrote in the word “Boxy” on the form's nickname space.  And now, perhaps for all time, he’s known as “Boxy”.

Jorge “Tattoo” Gallegos.  This Palm Springs hurler has one of the many (allegedly) “ironic” PEBA nicknames.  The story goes that Gallegos’s control is so good (just a few hit batters in three PEBA seasons) that he is never a threat to bean anyone.  Hence, like a fat man called tiny, Gallegos is called “Tattoo”.  Oddly, though he has had a recent growth spurt; Gallegos grew an estimated 12 inches between 1997 and 1999.  When he broke into the big leagues he was the shortest player in PEBA history.   Originally, Gallegos was merely a situational reliever whose pinpoint control and freakishly small size made him the perfect “chance of pace” specialist.  An enterprising AA announcer had the brilliant idea of flashing a video of Herve Villechaize on the screen whenever he waddled out of the bullpen, and he may one day enter the Hall of Fame as “Tattoo”.

Allen “Horse” Robinson , third basemen for the San Antonio Calzones of Laredo.  Ugh.

William “Soda” Patterson.   Members of the Reno front office feign ignorance when asked about the origins of this journeyman reliever’s nickname.  One suggested Patterson abstains from all alcoholic beverages, but following last year’s brawl at the Hooters just outside Palm Springs , that has been thoroughly debunked.  Even Patterson himself claims to have no idea about how he was tagged with it.  The truth is that as a young 17-year-old kid in rookie ball, Patterson celebrated his first pro outing by consuming an entire case of Diet Faygo Cola.  While this act of “celebration” was bad enough, he then commenced to brag about the feat every day for three months.  His decidedly unimpressed teammates began to call him “Soda”, right after they decided he was an idiot.

Lowell “Jellyroll” Tolbert.  There are a million reasons one would suspect that this Fargo pitcher has been nicknamed “Jellyroll”.  Being from the South he could be a huge fan of Jelly Roll Morton.  Being one of the best looking men in the PEBA, it could be the result of his love of the ladies.  Given his stats, it could be a reflection of his talent on the field.  Unfortunately, none of these are the case.  It seems that Mr. Tolbert hates the blues, is not interested in women, and is not known for having an especially smooth delivery.   Indeed, after contacting over a dozen past and present teammates, it appears that this nickname is a complete fabrication.  Tolbert admitted as much, and claims it was all a big misunderstanding.  However, given the fact that we could not find a single instance where Tolbert was referred to (by fan, teammate or foe) as “Jellyroll”, it does not appear that this discovery will change anything.

Leland “Hammer” Tatum.   This young pitcher in the Kentucky Thoroughbreds organization is allegedly named “Hammer” as a result of his signature fastball.  However, it does not take much more than an inning of Tatum’s work to see how laughable the claim is – the pitch usually tops out at a measly 90 miles per hour.  As usual, the truth is a little less dramatic.  Indeed, Tatum’s father recently informed us that the nickname comes from Leland’s love – which started as a young child but continues to this day – of MC Hammer.  It would seem that Tatum is a sucker for weird stretch pants, gold-plated glasses, and twirly dance-moves.  His affection for all things MC Hammer was also on display when he was recently heard yelling – to nobody on particular – “Please Hammer, don’t hurt ‘em!” after striking out an opposing hitter.

Juan “Vulture” Suárez.  This newly-minted Aurora closer is allegedly named “Vulture” because of his demeanor on the mound.  At a gangly 6’3”, his presence marks the end of days for any opponent.  Yeah, sounds good to us too.  Too bad it is utter bunk.   As many of his former teammates know (and his new ones are doubtlessly learning), Suárez eats Kentucky Fried Chicken 15-20 times a week.  Every week.  But his love for the Colonel’s secret recipe (he considers extra crispy to be blasphemous) is so deep that he literally flies into a rage if he sees that anyone in the restaurant does not finish every piece of chicken visible to him when he is done eating.  As you may have guessed, he cannot rest until he himself picks every last shred of chicken from every bone in the restaurant, regardless of who was previously eating it.  Hence, since 1999 he’s been known as the “Vulture”.

Chance “Scandal” Tidwell.  Perhaps the forefather of the (allegedly) ironic nickname, Bakersfield brass swear that his nickname comes from the fact that his ability is so profound – and his performance so weak – it is scandalous.  While all true (well, the weak performance part, at least), it has nothing to do with how he got the moniker.  It is a little known fact that Chance was once a promising young male pageant contestant.  Indeed, he has often stated that pageantry is his true love and baseball is simply something to pay the bills.  What Tidwell has never explained, however, is that he may still be on the pageant circuit if it was not for an event involving his parents, $1 million in German bearer bonds, a crooked judge and a 12-year-old Chance’s (tarnished) title as “Mr. Junior – Cleveland Heights”.  The scandal drove him out of the pageant world forever.  To everyone’s dismay, including anyone that has watched him play.

Danny “Spaceman” Young.  The only member of the Canton Longshoremen organization with a nickname, it seems to be self-explanatory.  Really, the Canton press office assures us, he’s just like Bill “Spaceman” Lee (save even the brief splash of stardom or ability, of course).   Canton is so paranoid about the validity of this, their only nicknamed player, that they even provided us with a 14-slide PowerPoint presentation of the myriad “kooky” things that Young has done throughout his career.  These include playing an entire college season with two left-footed shoes, dry-cleaning his hat after every game and refusing (for six years running) to ever take off his eye black.  Were it only so.  Not only do we have good information that none of these tales are true, we also have gotten to the bottom of the nickname.  It seems that in his first day in the big league camp, Young insisted on taking a locker tucked away in the corner of the clubhouse.   When asked about this by Canton press, he quietly stated, “Hey, I like my space, man.”  From that moment forward, a Canton organization desperate to bestow a nickname on anyone decided that Young – an apparently entirely normal man – would be called “Spaceman”.

Andrés “Genocide” Díaz.  Much like Mr. Suárez with Aurora, this Charleston pitcher’s imposing nickname is meant to terrify opponents.  With a 12-5 record, a sub-3.00 ERA and WHIP hovering at an even one, there’s plenty of reason to believe that the story begins and ends here.  Not quite, but there’s a reason you don’t know the rest of the story.  It seems that Andrés, who hales from the Dominican Republic, is the grandson of (and bears a striking resemblance to) none other than Rafael Trujillo , the Caribbean’s most ruthless 20^th century dictator (until his untimely murder in 1961).  Among many other traits, Trujillo ruled with an iron fist and slaughtered untold thousands in a reign of terror lasting decades. Andrés has made a habit of reminding teammates of this “proud” lineage throughout his career.  Though one can understand why this angle didn’t make the final cut of the press release announcing his recent signing.

Francisco “Yogi” Robles.  Another Starting Pitcher, another fake nickname.  This Connecticut hurler is alleged to have been given this nickname due to his strong work ethic and loyalty.  He is alleged to be a veritable yogi — a model player, the type who dispenses a kind word and sage advice no matter what the circumstance.   Sadly, this is not within spitting distance of the truth; word is he is one of the most nasty, foul-tempered players in the game.  Instead, as more than one teammate on the Cary Grants has informed us, he received this nickname shortly after turning pro because he asked at every new ballpark whether they were anywhere near “Jellystone National Park”.  It seems that Robles is a huge fan of Yogi Bear and had had his heart set on visiting him since the age of nine.  Robles now claims it was all a misunderstanding, though his 17-volume collection of Yogi Bear cartoons begs to differ.

Francesco “Guns” Amati.  This Manchester catcher is supposedly known for his strong throwing arm.  Like most nicknames, this is a complete sham.  While his 34% rate of gunning down runners this season is impressive, it has absolutely nothing to do with his nickname.  Instead, Francesco is commonly known as the cheesiest player in all of the PEBA.  Specifically, he is obsessed with bodybuilding, and to that end has spent the last six years telling a variation of the same joke.  At least a dozen times a year, he approaches each of his teammates and asks the same few questions: “Do you have your tickets?”  When they look at him quizzically, he responds, “To the gun show!” and flexes his biceps.  “Do you know why I love the NRA?”  Again responding to puzzled looks, “Because I believe in the right to bear arms!” and flexes his biceps.  “Should I get these registered?”  Blank stares.  “My guns!”… and flexes his biceps.  Amati is also among the least-liked player in the PEBA, though the ladies do love him.

Luis “Digger” Torres.  This left fielder in the Florida Featherhead organization is allegedly called “Digger” because (once again) he is a “hard-nosed” player who digs out every routine play.  While he may have a bright future in the PEBA and perhaps is everything the front office says he is, this nickname is a complete fraud.  In truth, Torres loves nothing more than spending a peaceful afternoon with his metal detector hunting for and digging up lost objects on beaches and in parks throughout the minor leagues.  In fact, Torres recently admitted that the only reason he is playing professional ball is that it affords him the opportunity to search for lost car keys and dead 9-volt batteries in locations all across the country.

Armando “Vacuum” Otero.  This highly-touted New Orleans reliever is allegedly called “vacuum” because of his skill at appearing with runners on base and working out of jams.  At least that is what the New Orleans press office insisted during a recent phone call.  Truth is, Otero suffers from a mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder.  He deals with stressful or uncertain situations by repeating a manual task over and over again.  Though instead of throwing up or checking to see if his stove is turned off 15 times before leaving the house, Otero deals with pre-game jitters by vacuuming the clubhouse until there is not a speck of lint to be found.  And, yes, this includes the visitor’s clubhouse when the team is on the road.  Otero ignores the laughs, and is reportedly great friends with the custodial staff in every Imperial League ballpark.