They Are Efforting

Be, be, be, be aggressive! At Hoopfest, you gotta take it to the hole. When the shy drive the lane, the shy get pummeled.
The spirit of self-assertion runs through Hoopfest’s 2009 team names, too.

But for every group calling itself “Operation Domination” and “Out of Your League,” you should know that playing a team with a self-vaunting name is like being forced to watch your neighbor’s cousin’s home movies.

So for all those chest-thumpingly vainglorious crews out there (Please Excuse My Talent, Dare You To Zone Us, Hotays Wid da Bodays), we don’t want to hear it.

Play hard, carry a big stick but speak softly, is what we say. You’ll catch smiles if you make fun of yourself, acknowledging our common failings.

It’s not as if this is a secret. Not only do some teams venture into outright self-abasement — CRAIGSLIST STRUMPETS, DAVENPORT DICKS and BEG FOR MERCY — but nearly one-third of this year’s best team names appear in the Self-Deprecating category: OVERWEIGHT ACHIEVERS. SLOW BUT LAZY. JUICEBOX HEROES. OVERNEATH THE RIM. OFFENSIVE NIGHTMARE. FUTURE BOBBLEHEADS. JURASSIC PORK.

Now, there are those among us who look down upon the use of imagination in Hoopfest team names. These people exemplify H.L. Mencken’s definition of puritanism: “the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.”

The English language is defiled by such tomfoolery, they say. Let us not descend into humor which smacks of cheapness. Each oh-so-clever phrase, they complain, is a honking clown, in your face and demanding to be giggled at.

Well, we think Hoopfest monikers are nuggets o’ fun, and if you don’t like ’em, then … honk, honk!

Some of the best honkers incorporate sexual double-entendre ranging from boastful (GUYS WHO SCORE) to bashful (PREMATURE SHOOTERS).

Several groups seek prominence through any absurd mismatch of adjective and noun (Atomic Gerbils, Yodeling Pickles). But in contradiction lies irony: FIGHTING PACIFISTS and MANATEE PROWESS.

Occasionally team names derive from some heated moment during competition: AGAIN WITH THE SHOT, GET THE ICE BAGS NOW, WE ARE EFFORTING and FACE IT, WE’RE AVERAGE.

Group identity is important, not excluding sexuality (SEE MEN SWISH) or nationality (DER SVEDES, YAH SURE).

Several teams want to display their devotion to celebrities (and even to particular celebrity body parts): KERRIGAN’S KNEES, GINOBILI’S BALD SPOT and TOM SELLECK’S MUSTACHE. A certain former Seattle Supersonic is apparently regarded as a kind of patriarch: SONS OF SHAWN KEMP, SHAWN KEMP’S KIDS and SHAWN KEMP IS OUR DAD.

Some team names are intended to be vaguely threatening (FOUR FURIOUS FELONS, RAGING ALCOHOLICS, PRETTY PONIES OF DOOM), and some are disturbing because they’re just plain weird: MILK OF THE PENGUIN.

Other teams display self-contradictory snootiness (ESCHEW OBFUSCATION) or strategic wordplay with sandbagging (DISGUISE THE LIMIT).

Sometimes food names evoke potential culinary nightmares: Green Eggs and Slam. And how’d you like to see a game blending IVAR’S CLAMTASTICS with REAL BITS OF PANTHER?

But for every run-of-the-mill example of civic pride (Missoula Mustangs), there is one small-town ring to rule them all: IONE THE COURT.

Trying to buy their way into getting a mention in the newspaper, some teams resort to blatant appeals to a writer’s ego: All Day Bowen. (I don’t know team captain Matt Bowen, I haven’t worked with Matt Bowen — but I feel confident that when it comes to pure shooting ability, he’s no Mike Bowen.)

But then I’m surrounded by colleagues who, faced with (I counted) 216 other “Team ...” names  — including TEAM VOLDEMORT and TEAM STAN VAN GUNDY — came up with what I think you’ll agree is a terribly imaginative name: Team Inlander.

This, from the Smith, Baumgarten and McGregor in-group who scoff at other teams’ clever names.

“Team Inlander”: Like watching your neighbor’s cousin’s home movies. With airballs.