Two years ago, a professional basketball team was born in Hiroshima: the Hiroshima Dragonflies. They aren’t the best team in the Japanese National Basketball League, but we enjoy watching their games from time to time at the local sports center.
The other day we saw an exciting game (which they lost 86 to 85!), and came away impressed with one of the players in particular: Not only is he a great player, he also has a great name!
Shannon Shorter. (Every team in the Japanese National Basketball League has a few international players, and Shannon Shorter is from the United States.)
Fun bit of language
Now I’m not making light of his name, not at all. It’s just that, as a bit of language, with the “Sh” alliteration and balance of two syllables in each word, this name is very appealing and great fun to say.
Go ahead, say it with me: Shannon Shorter.
No, I mean out loud. Once more now: Shannon Shorter.
So there I was, the day after the game, playing basketball with my newly nine-year-old son. Since we live on a small, quiet street, with very little traffic, I simply park a short, free-standing basket in the middle of the road, and that’s where we play. I’m not very tall—and couldn’t come close to dunking the ball on a real basket—but I can happily pretend I’m a giant when I dunk over Roy’s head on this one.
“Shannon Shorter!” I cried, slashing toward the basket.
“Hey!” Roy protested. “I’m Shannon Shorter!”
I paused. “Okay, you can be Shannon Shorter,” I said.
Then I grinned and shouted: “I’m Terry Taller!” And I dunked over his head again.
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