Some say your name
Is your destiny as with
Green Bay’s Bart Starr
Who became the star qb
Of the Lombardi teams
Or Dick Butkus who cussed
And butted his way
To football immortality.
Joe Montana was another
Great qb whose name conjured
Images of Old West gunslingers
Or 19th century riverboat gamblers
And that day in the park when
I first came across his name
In the Tribune I knew Joe Montana
Would be in the Hall of Fame.
But what about Jim Brown?
Possibly the top ball carrier
Of all time who (oddly?)
Played for the Cleveland Browns
Yet it’s hard to come up
With a blander, less dashing,
More forgettable or invisible
Name than Jim Brown.
Earl Scheib too bore the burden
Of a genuinely zhlubby name
Yet he built a multi-million dollar
Automobile painting and collision
Repair company with locations
Around the world for which Scheib
Even made the paint though it
All did go to hell eventually.
My own name was Donald G. Bruce
But only for one day until my black
Market adoption took place and
This present appellation was conferred
On me but now as shadows lengthen
On the greensward and evening
Draws nigh I shall henceforth and
Forever be known as Duke Rhino!