Projo Sports Blog

By David Whitley
The Orlando Sentinel

In the grand tradition of the Apostle Paul, Muhammad Ali and Prince, Chad Johnson has changed his name.

Cincinnati's All-Pro receiver is now Chad Javon Ocho Cinco.

Ay, caramba!

Ocho Cinco is Johnson's number. At least it would be if he played for the Caracas Bengals.

I have no problem with him using the Spanish translation for 85. I'm sure the announcers at ESPN Deportes are thrilled and hope it's the sign of things to come. The scary part is it might be.

Johnson/Cinco is the product of a generation that goes by the name "Me." Some of his attention-seeking shenanigans have been amusing. Like when he sported a blond Mohawk or did his Riverdance touchdown routine.

Then there were the holdouts, squabbles and dissension that always come when a guy's ego is bigger than Ecuador. Ocho Cinco could give the name-changing a bad name.

The practice has been around ever since Saul became Paul on the road to Damascus, and then opened his TV interview by thanking God. Soccer might not even be popular with hooligans if Edson Arantes do Nascimento hadn't gone by Pele.

Would Tiger Woods have become such a worldwide phenomenon if he'd stuck with Eldrick? Lloyd Free was an All-NBA flake, but how could you not love it when he changed his name to World B. Free?

Sometimes religion mandates a change. That's how Cassius Clay became Muhammad Ali, Lew Alcindor became Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Sharmon Shah became Karim Abdul-Jabbar.

Apparently Islamic law does not forbid suing for name infringement, so the ex-Lakers center filed a complaint against the Miami running back in 1998. Jabbar II became Abdul-Karim al-Jabbar, though his friends just called him Bill.

The NFL fined Johnson $5,000 for having "Ocho Cinco" on his jersey two years ago. Now it's the guy's legal name, and we must ponder what's to stop the next narcissist from changing his name to a Roman numeral or a farm animal or an item from Denny's menu.

What's to stop them? Humility and common sense, neither of which is exactly rampant among today's chest-beating jocks.

I hate to sound like a 94-year-old, but give me a guy like Walter Payton any day. He just tossed the ball back to the ref after scoring. Class always trumps a sideshow. And unless I'm mistaken, he never changed his name to "Treinta Cuatro."

That's the kind of thing Hollywood goobers and self-absorbed rock stars are supposed to do. Like Sylvester Stallone naming his son Sage Moonblood or Jermaine Jackson naming his son Jermajesty. At least I think it was his son.

The ultimate was Prince Rogers Nelson becoming Prince, which was fine. Then he became that symbol thingamajig, forcing everybody to call him "The Artist Formerly Known as Prince." Imagine the radio broadcast if Cinco's move catches on.

"Nueve drops back and throws a bomb to Ocho Cinco, but it's intercepted by The Player Formerly Known as Asante Samuel!"

Perhaps Bengals Coach Marvin Lewis put it best.

"Ocho Psycho," he once called Johnson.

Psycho didn't want to discuss his name change with reporters Monday, but he told the team's Web site, "It's something I don't think anyone has ever done before. Have I ever had a reason for why I do what I do? I'm having fun."

And it's even more fun when that makes you the center of attention. That's not why Ali, Jabbar or any of the apostles changed their names.

But maybe I'm being too hard on Numero 85. The others were motivated by religion.

All Cinco is doing is worshiping at the altar of himself.

 Tags  Chad Johnson Cincinnati Bengals Ocho Cinco

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