Last month we rounded up the best gems from our four-year-old collection of the sporting world’s most priceless team nicknames and opened them up to Guardian readers. Then the messages started coming in to fill in the gaps in our knowledge, and to prompt us about the gaps we should have added the first time.
One sport we cut back on was rugby league. Shocked by the arbitrary animals imposed as team names in this once proud game, we turned around with a shudder. But we were delighted to discover pockets of resistance where the old northern spirit survives: there are still those who have escaped the thought police and regard Warrington as the Wire, Oldham the Roughyeds and Bradford Northern as the Steam Pigs.
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And wouldn’t kids love to hear that Huddersfield used to be the Fartowners? That’s much nicer if you insert a hyphen after the T.
But of course it is football that dominates, and the deeper you dig into its soul, the more treasures you find. We even missed some Football League gems: Wycombe are the Chairboys and Harrogate Town, thanks to the spa water, are the Sulfurites. (But how do you sing that?) And Hartlepool, relegated from the League again this year, have learned to love being the Monkey Hangers, even though it was an insult sung by their enemies thirty years ago.
We chose not to delve into deep questions, such as why Exeter are the Greeks or Bristol Rovers (unofficially) the Gas. We didn’t mention the Cobblers either because one of us is from Northampton and sang ‘Up the Cobblers’ from the Hotel End long before he discovered it made outsiders giggle.
Outside the League, Northamptonshire’s smaller shoe towns are a hot spot with big names: Wellingborough is the Doughboys, Raunds Town is the Shopmates, Desborough “Ar Tarn” (our town in dialect) and Rothwell Town is the Bones, after the medieval ossuary. in the crypt of the church. Unfortunately, the team is also dead. Nearby in Lincolnshire, Bourne Town, are the Wakes (after Hereward).
We also liked the Glassboys of Stourbridge, the Brakes of Leamington, the Terrace of Weymouth (of their terracotta shirts) and the Rocks of Bognor Regis.
And before we leave the whining behind, we should mention Hampton & Richmond, who are aiming for promotion from the National League South, whose supporters are shouting “Up the Beavers”. Which, given Hampton’s place in rhyming jargon, could be a graphic triple meaning. Last week they defeated Hemel Hempstead, better known as the Tudors, whose supporters would chant ‘We hate the Stuarts’, which is more erudite.
But other countries may be even less inhibited. In Germany Alemannia Aachen is known as Kartoffelkäfer (potato beetles, from the colors) and Köln are Die Geißböcke (the goats). In Argentina, Estudiantes de La Plata, once infamous at home and abroad for being bad boys on the field, became known as Los Pincharratas (the rat stabbers); their neighbors are Gimnasia Los Triperos, because their fan base came from the tripe factories. The South African nationals under the age of 23 are known as Amaglug-glug: the interesting theory is that this was due to the drinking habits of a previous generation; what’s more boring is that the team is sponsored by a gasoline company.
In Major League Soccer, New York City is the Pigeons, Nashville is the Six Strings, and Philadelphia Union is the Zolos: apparently the players were supposed to wear name tags that read 2010 during an opening event, but someone misread it. The official names of the Minor League baseball teams are a vast prairie of delights. Mark Redding, formerly of this parish, reports seeing a game in Georgia between the Piedmont Boll Weevils and the Savannah Sand Gnats.
There are also the Amarillo Sod Poodles, Binghamton Rumble Ponies, Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp, Lansing Lugnuts, Lehigh Valley IronPigs, Pensacola Blue Wahoos and the Toledo Mud Hens. And if you leaf through a newspaper from Rochester, Minnesota, circa 1945 (as you do), you can find the local, distinctly male baseball team called The Queens. Their successors are the Honkers.
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In Ireland, where Gaelic sport takes place in the provinces, most teams have multiple nicknames. Various sources proudly refer to Cork as the Rebel County or the Donkey Eaters. Wicklow likes to be called the Garden County. Otherwise it’s the Goat Suckers.
However, there is no doubt in our minds about the global headquarters of nicknames. Scottish nationalism may be going through a rough patch and their football team has not beaten England this century. But Jings Crivvens, they are brilliant at this. In the nickname gold mine, Scotland is the mother lode.
In addition to those mentioned in the previous article, we must now add the Buddies (St Mirren), Blue Toon (Peterhead), the Gable Endies (Montrose), the Pars (Dunfermline, reason unknown), the Honest Men (Ayr United) ),
Auld Ayr, no city surpasses,
For honest men and bonie [sic] girls. – R Brandt
Falkirk (the Bairns), Strathspey Thistle (the Strathy Jags) and especially Yoker Athletic of the West of Scotland League, who are known as the Whe Ho. What a shame they can’t play the long lost Third Lanark, the Hi Hi. Or even the long-lost Champfleurie, from the small village of Kingscavil, which held Heart of Midlothian to a draw in 1889-1890. They were known as the Celestials.
Even some official names have a rare beauty. Who could not fall in love from afar with those two bold rebels of the Scottish League, Kelty Hearts and Bonnyrigg Rose, who looks more like a greyhound?
Thanks to everyone who responded. It was fun to hear about the school teams in the small town of Greenwich (pronounced as spelled), New York, all called the Witches. Or the team of social workers in Cardiff who called themselves the Do-Gooders. And the Illinois school that plays sports as the Teutopolis Clogs.
If Scotland win this World Cup, the prize (usual Guardian prize: honours only) for individual runners-up will go to the Argentine Rat-stabbers, entered from China by Cameron McGlone. But the overall winner was published last month and comes from Australian journalist/farmer Phil Derriman. Nothing can beat the Sydney bowls club known as The Diddy, more formally Sydney’s Longueville Sporting Club. You can find the full story here.
Regardless, these pieces were a joy to put together. It was a Whe Ho and a Hi Hi and a Wahoo and we hope we can do it again someday, and not just once in a Blue Toon.