Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on a damn minute

As you may know, I tend to ascribe nicknames to baseball players. It's a habit. Conversely, I tend to disdain the nicknames such players ascribe to themselves -- that's my job, buddy.

Take, for instance, Lance Berkman. I've been calling him "Fat Elvis" for, oh, three years now. Lance, on the other hand, self-glossed himself "the Big Puma." I was unimpressed, and so was most of Houston -- I never heard anyone outside of Milo Hamilton call him that, and Milo's certifiably insane. (In a good way, mind you -- Milo's awesome. The greatest baseball announcer of all time, hands down.)

But now that Berkman's hitting like Mickey Mantle, the nickname is starting to actually catch on, despite how stupid it sounds. There's an article on the Astros website discussing the nickname and its popularity, and I find this:

It was Berkman who came up with the name. He was tired of being called "Fat Elvis," and during a semi-regular appearance on a local radio show two years ago, Berkman told the hosts he wanted to change things up.

"I'm like a Puma," Berkman said. At that moment, a cult hero was born. He's Lance Berkman, the Big Puma.

Nowadays, his manager refers to him as Big Puma. It's catching on with his teammates, too. And all because of Berkman's desire to replace the Fat Elvis label with a brand new image -- even if it's tongue-in-cheek.

Whoa -- who was calling Lance Berkman "Fat Elvis" and not telling me about it? That was mine, goddammit! Who stole it? Who?!

Oh, well. He's still Fat Elvis to me. And mean that in the nicest way, Lance, honestly. You're my favorite Astro (at least, current Astro). But...you're not a damn puma, okay? I don't care how far into your cheek you cram your tongue.

Now: is anyone else out there calling Morgan Ensberg "the Voyeur"? Because I will sue, damn you.

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