What’s your name?

Names are important.

Aren’t they?

There’s a line I’ve heard many times and just found it credited to Robert De Niro: “I always say people can call me anything they want as long as they don’t call me late for supper.” I do think that statement preceded him.

There was another celebrity who had particular wishes for using his name. Remember Bill Saluga? No? Well, you’ll remember him as Raymond J. Johnson Jr. If that doesn’t ring a bell, click here for a 35-second YouTube clip from the Redd Foxx show.

And we mustn’t forget the bouncy, fun song The Name Game, sung by Shirley Ellis, who co-wrote with Lincoln Chase (yes, you remember correctly, the first two names used in the song were Shirley and Lincoln) a children’s song that reached No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 in early 1965 and No. 4 on the R&B charts.

When my dad owned the grocery store in Greggton (an area of Longview, Texas), a couple came by regularly to service and supply the machine that tested vacuum tubes. They would walk into the store and the man would call out something like, “How you doing, Dave?”

My dad’s name was Alva, though many people pronounced it Alvie. I asked him once why he never corrected the fellow. He just didn’t think it was that big of a deal. To be honest, knowing my father’s humor, he probably just thought it was funny and wanted to see how long it played out.

Also, he could dish it out as well as take it.

We had daily bread delivery from Mrs. Baird’s, Wonder, Sunbeam and Hostess. I loved working in the morning and interacting with these delivery guys and the others we saw regularly. My dad seemed to be particularly fond of a young driver, I believe with Mrs. Baird’s. Dad was always giving him a hard time (in a good way, if you’re not familiar with the concept) and consistently called him Charlie Brown. I’m 98 percent certain that was not his real name, but he answered to it in our store.

 I’ve all my life had poor enunciation skills and that has contributed to me sometimes being called Dave (like my dad mistakenly was, funny enough) when I first met people. I figured it out early in my adult years that when I identified myself as “Steve,” they understood “Dave.” Being aware of it and making a point to speak a little slower and more distinctly decreased the frequency of that mistake.

But one I have absolutely no way to explain occurred at an extremely unfortunate time.

I was one of several guys from White Oak (Texas) in the spring of 1973 who competed in a broad range of events in the Sixth Annual Explorer Olympics at Fort Hood. We had guys competing in pole vault, high jump, wrestling, mile run, weightlifting and gymnastics. I chose the decathlon.

I often talk about participating in sports and I usually make it a point to clarify that, as an individual, I was never that outstanding. I did make small contributions to teams I was on and treasured the opportunity to do so.

This decathlon competition, though, was my singular personal athletic achievement. Unlike the decathlon in the Olympic Games, this 10-event competition was held entirely on one day.

I would love to go through all the events with you. Fifty-two years later, I still enjoy remembering it. To cut to the chase, I did manage to win the gold medal. (OK, it wasn’t really gold, but it kind of looked like it.)

Medal presentations occurred the next morning. Upon arrival, we were lined up and leading the parade of champions were the decathlon medalists. My head surely swelled a bit. As we marched around the track, a band in the stands played “Bugler’s Dream (Olympic Fanfare)” by Leo Arnaud. I soaked it in.

When we reached the podium, I ascended to the top step with the runners-up on either side. The base commander, as I understood him to be, presented our medals, placing them over our heads when we bent over.

In the excitement, I managed to hear the PA system: “Decathlon, first place, Mike Martaindale.”

I’m sorry … what? Who?

Yeah, names are important.

Tomorrow, we’re going to talk a little more about names, particularly about a specific problem some of our names have.

One more thing

Names are applied to more than people. Consider college football conferences.

Their names don’t usually mean much specifically, but there is one thing that stands out. Three of them have a number in their name, originally meant to reflect the number of schools in the conference.

Of course, that’s all gone away now with the movements and additions and consolidations of power. However, I do get a kick out of them.

The Big Ten consists of 18 teams instead of 10.

The Big 12 has 16 teams instead of 12.

And the Pac-12 has two teams instead of 12. However, there are special circumstances as they lost most of their teams to realignment but will be adding teams back for next year. As it stands, they will then be up to … drum roll, please … nine teams instead of 12.