Grand tradition of nicknames

How they arise at school, work and on the footy field. By the Northern District Tigers women’s coach Tony Ryan

I was at Ryan’s Hotel and there was a group of women all calling each other by their first names. There was Terrie, Peta, Clare, Lisa, Barb and Sheryl. On the next table there were a bunch of blokes, all with pretty indistinguishable names like “Thumper”, “Jacko”, “Jock-strap” and “Bongo”.

From school to work to footy clubs, I’ve come across some unique nicknames. Some were created by simply adding a “Y” on the end – like a Smithy or a Jonesy. Same rule if your name was a colour – so Blacky, Greeney and Browny. Anyone with a Mc at the start of their surname was simply Macca.

Or if your surname was the same as a famous person you usually wore their name as well.

Dawson: “Smokie”.

Minogue: “Kylie”.

Hawke: “Bob”.

Aussies love giving mates a nickname, usually born out of humour, like calling people the opposite was what they are. Big blokes were called “Tiny”; blokes with red hair were called “Bluey” (before “Ranga” became a thing).

I remember this old coach in Melbourne who would come up with nicknames (or have them pre-planned) when giving a speech or a spray. Many blokes would carry these names for decades.

Lantern: Dimly lit and needs to be carried.

Pot hole: Needs to be avoided.

Bird brain: One bloke kicked the ball the wrong way and the coach said “You’d have to be a bit of a bird brain” to do that.

Pop Gun: “I heard you were a bit of a gun. Turns out you are nothing more than a pop gun.”

Tic Tac: Told a guy that was the size of his heart.

Ticker: Opposite to the Tic Tac, a bloke who showed plenty of courage.

Devon: Told a player his head was like Devon. He just did not know what was in it.

Silky Player: Had skills as smooth as silk.

Peacock: Strutting around like you’re a darn peacock.

Time Bomb: The player would go off and he was waiting for the tick-tick boom!

Wobbles: When this bloke ran his head wobbled like a bobble-head doll.

Spud: His head looked like a potato.

Fig jam: Far-out I’m good, just ask me!

But a few names came out of one particular incident.

Wearing a brand-new white designer T-shirt, getting on a bus for an away game, a young bloke shook up his orange juice but did not realise the lid was not on properly so it soaked his new shirt. From then on he was known as “Juice”.

Fish: As in he would drink like one on a Saturday night.

Stabber: A player was accidentally questioned by police after being mistakenly identified as a person who had stabbed someone.

Clunk: The noise a bloke’s head made on the dance floor after falling over drunk.

Stamps: After a mate went to pick up a date, the girl’s mother asked if he wanted to look at her stamp collection while he waited for the date to get ready. The night ended up with three hours of looking at stamps. Fair to say, it was their only date.

Rooster: This older red-headed bloke I worked with had the worst comb-over ever, which he would try and stick down with Brylcreem and when out in the wing, half would stick up like a rooster’s comb. He thought it was because all the young ladies in the office reported to him and he oversaw the hen house.

As for me, there have been a few over the years. When I was at school it was “Red” as I had flowing red hair. The nickname and hair have long gone the way of the dodo. “TR”: not too much imagination involved when you use someone’s initials. “Skippa”: Having married an absolutely stunning woman, I was (and probably still am) batting way above my division. I was deemed to be the captain, “Skippa”, of the “How did he get her?” team.

As local papers seem to be becoming outdated, it is great to see this locally-made magazine come out each month. I would like to thank Gen and Marcus for all their hard work and allowing me to write these little columns each month.

Finally, I would like to wish all the readers a great start to 2022.