Surely, there is still more we can do for Tiger Woods. Thoughtlessly, we didn’t have him light the Olympic flame nor marry Jennifer Aniston. And it is too late to just hand over the Louisiana Purchase, not that Oregon isn’t still a possibility.

There is no excuse for our preoccupation with things other than Tiger, because, quite simply, there are no other things.

It is not enough that Woods does not put up any of his own money to play golf, as one-way a procedure as exists in sports. All professional golfers play for other people’s money. The only easier way to get money is to inherit it.

There is Sports Money and there is Tiger Money and reasonable people no longer swallow hard when it is suggested that Woods will become the first billionaire solely from his ability to hit a ball that doesn’t move until he hits it.

Nike has just given Woods a $60 million raise, so no need to hold a car wash for the Give It All to Tiger Fund. But I wonder if Tiger Woods be worth a fresh $100 million if his name were Scott Verplank or Rocco Mediate? Or if he were called Possum Putter?

While Woods may be worth every penny, I have always suspected that much of what has come to him is because of his name. Tiger Woods. How fitting. Better than Tiger Irons or Tiger Wedge if not quite with the scope of Tiger Lakes Golf and Country Club.

Woods’ real contribution to sports is as the example of what’s in a name being worth everything, not that being long off the tee hurts.

Moms and Dads, some advice. Designate your kids as what you expect them to do, like Crank Homer or Puck Handler. How much more impressive would Mark McGwire be as Advance Runner?

Basketball name changers were the pioneers, not just Lew Alcindor who redesignated himself as Kareem Abudul-Jabbar, but the more politically impressive and original Lloyd Free who became the happy sentiment, World B. Free. Dennis Rodman had to become Worm, whereas, he was, of course, always so.

These changes were not done for money, though the money came along. Which comes first, the nickname or the checkbook? In the case of Michael Jordan, the pre-Tiger pioneer in terms of having strangers throw money at him for no other reason than he allows it, he became Air Jordan simultaneously with his shoes.
Heretofore, the greatest golf name belonged to Bobby Cruickshank, slightly more sport-specific than Curtis Strange, and one of them managed to live it down.

A Pete Rose by any other name would be Charlie Hustle. I suggest Rose make it legal. Maybe he can get into the Hall of Fame that way.
The Broncos once drafted a nose tackle named Anthony Butts and he never did. So, this can be tricky. There was never a more aptly named footballer than Joe Don Looney.

Football has always been on the cutting edge of this, from Blood McNally to Ox Emerson to Tuffy Leemans to Bulldog Turner to Tank Younger to Night Train Lane to Mercury Morris to Shannon Sharpe.

The next step is for future NFL draft choices to be Ball Carrier instead of Mark Carrier. Why not Dash Fields and Star Whacker? It would save a lot of time and money on scouting. It would have helped the Broncos trying to find a place kicker to fill in for Jason Elam if there was someone out there already named Helmut Optional.

So, more is at stake for Tiger Woods than just whether he will be the wealthiest athlete ever, or if he is the next Jack Nicklaus, which is still a compliment to Nicklaus. Back when Nicklaus dropped out of college to play professional golf, he was not yet The Golden Bear, nor any animal of Tiger ferocity. He was Ohio Fats.

I do think that, before parents start naming children for their ambitions–Don King has, for example, come up a little short of actual royalty and Susan Butcher probably couldn’t clean a chicken–there should be this condition: exaggerated beginnings ought to have appropriate endings.

Someone once held a contest to nickname Joe Montana. a foolish notion. A man already with the name of a whole state doesn’t need another one.

Under my rule, this is what would have happened to Montana. As his career diminished he could have been, oh, Wayne Wyoming in his last years at San Francisco and then Vinny Vermont. He would have been Danny Delaware by the time he got to Kansas City.

Maybe by the time Tiger Woods gets to be Montana’s age, he will be Kitty Meadows.