The art of the public nickname has been in long decline, probably beginning with television. Forced to make their subjects more colorful, newspaper reporters hung descriptive sobriquets on players to make them more identifiable. We think of Mickey Mantle as "the Mick," but long before that he was the Commerce Comet, a reference to his speed and his hometown of Commerce, Oklahoma. Nicknames today are either derivative or hopelessly obvious. We've got A-Rod, I-Rod, K-Rod, H-Rod, and every other initial-Rod, and then there are the things like CP3 or PG13. Nicknames gave us what we don't need anymore -- color. It's a shame, really.
In my recap of the Foster Farms Bowl, I paid tribute to those writers with this description of a McCaffrey punt return:
Quote:Maryland followed that score with another three-and-out, and when a booming punt pushed McCaffrey all the way back to his 17, it looked for a moment that the Terps might be able to take a breath. But then the Colorado Kid reminded us why we all get so breathless every time he touches the ball. He fielded the punt while drifting backwards, then made the first man miss and streaked up the middle and then towards the left sideline for a nifty 29-yard return.
The Colorado Kid. It's a shame I never went back to that.