During an intramural basketball game in college, an upperclassmen, much taller and more proficient at the game than me, shouted “McFly! Here, McFly!” from under the basket. I looked around confused, unsure of who he was calling to, but there was no one else. I had the ball at the top of the key. He was talking to me. I was McFly. It was a new name, but one that made me giddy and honored. I felt lighter, moved quicker across the court. I played with a new sense of self. I saw it as an epithet.
What’s in a name?
