Say your name again

As someone christened with a famous name, I pay close attention to people like Ty Cobb, the ornately-mustachioed attorney whose real name is Ty Cobb. You have to figure his parents were paying homage to baseball immortal Tyrus Raymond "Ty" Cobb when they named him that.

Last night when the Orioles were playing the Minnesota Twins, the Twins trotted out a shortstop named Bruce Lee. He hit and fielded the usual way, not with karate chops.

And then there was the time I met a woman named Linzy Buckingham and asked her if her parents were Fleetwood Mac friends. She looked at me as so many woman have over the years, with quizzical stupefaction: "Why would they be?"

We Social Security types hear "Steve McQueen," and we think of the old actor who played in "Bullitt" and "Wanted: Dead or Alive." Today's with-it young folks think of the movie director of the same name.

Or mention Michael Douglas, and we think of Mike Douglas, the glib former talk show host, or the actor by that name who was the son of Kirk Douglas. And all along, that is Michael Keaton's real name (he took Buster Keaton's name so no one would confuse him with Michael Douglas, if you can still follow all this.)

Or think of Anne Hathaway, who is either Wm. Shakespeare's wife or the Oscar-winning actress who frequents the same ice cream place we used to go to in Cape May, New Jersey.

And I love telling Peggy that Jerry Lee Lewis never used his middle name as a child growing up in beautiful Ferriday, Louisiana until he started making records in Memphis, and someone pointed out that there was already a famous "Jerry Lewis," so he started billing himself with the Lee in the middle. Peggy didn't really care for either of them, but she was crazy about Andy Taylor from Duran Duran.

And I know him only as a sheriff!

Andy's mints.