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Say we had an historical fantasy matchup between Magic, Pistol, Big “O,” Worm, and the Big Dipper versus Cousy, Havlicek, Bird, McHale, and Russell. Or how about between Rondo, K.C., Pierce, Heinsohn, and Cowens versus Starbury, Black Mamba, Dr. J, STAT, and Chocolate Thunder. Obviously well-known players pitting Celtics against non-Celtics, but do you see the other glaring difference between the five’s? The opposing squads are assembled from the All-Nickname team.

Dateline: August 31, 2012––30 days until the start of training camp!

It is not that Celtics’ players haven’t picked up nicknames. Gads the media and the blogosphere spend an inordinate amount of time throwing a plethora of “re-names” at any new arrival trying to get one to stick. I suppose it makes sense when you consider that these people are pounding out prose about these players, and seeing Paul Pierce, Paul, Pierce about eighty times on a page gets god-awful boring. So we toss in the Shaq-bestowed The Truth, or The Captain to relieve the monotony. Of the Celtics I listed, the media has ginned up alternatives for many—The Houdini of Hardwood, Larry Legend, Tommy Gun, and Hondo are all recognized by most fans of the Green (see what I did there?)

But the point is that as a rule, Celtics players are more frequently recognized, and referred to, by their actual names. Of those with nicknames, many arrived to the league with the name in tow, often from childhood. I suppose we could refer to Joseph Henry White but he arrived as JoJo which he picked up in high school when his coach often had to repeat his attempt to rouse the dozing White, “Jo,” “Jo.” And we could refer to K. C. Jones by his full name, oh wait, K. C. is his given name.

I guess the point is that you never get the feeling that Celtics’ players sit around trying to come up with self-aggrandizing appellations for themselves. Do you really think Starbury, STAT (Standing Tall And Talented), Chocolate Thunder or Black Mamba were bestowed by the media? Shaq has probably spent as much time coming up with nicknames for himself as he has hours working on his conditioning. King James spends more time building his “brand” than working on his game.

For me part of the charm of the Boston Celtics has always been the lack of putting on airs. Call it blue collar, or Ubuntu, or playing the right way, or The Celtic Way—wearing the green is its own statement of pride. Especially in this ME generation of entitled brats, the workmanlike attitude prevalent in Boston is a refreshing exception. Their swagger seems more about the game and competence than fame and self-promotion.

Perhaps this is all much ado about nothing, for a rose by any other name is still a rose—but a small forward’s personality, even if it is called perfume, can still just stink. And like a heavy fragrance in an elevator, can make the gorge rise.