Jared Max: Air Jordan Vs. Jordan Heir — The Legacy Of A Name
By Jared Max
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Long after any of us will be around, billions of people will know the name Jordan.
Is it a country? A river? A sneaker? A golf club? A highway?
"Honey, after we exit the GWB, we'll hop on to Malcolm X, then grab the Jeter to the Jackie Robinson to JFK, and we'll be landing soon at Reagan."
Would you be offended if your legacy was marginalized to a faceless proper noun? More times than not, our greatest contributors are outlived by their names. "Hey, checkout my new Ford!"
Watching Jordan Spieth make golf history this weekend, I wondered about the origin of his first name. "21 years old. He's gotta be named for Michael Jordan."
As golf's new golden boy revealed today to CBS This Morning, he was, indeed, named for the basketball god. Michael Jeffrey Jordan rolled into Jordan Alexander Spieth.
While it seems highly unlikely that Jordan Spieth can make more of his first name than the surname he was named for, there is a poetic beauty to the connection. While some athletes are named for political greats (former MLB pitcher Theodore Roosevelt Lilly), it is extremely rare to see players become superstars who were named for sports history makers. If not for Jackie Robinson, Robinson Cano would be somebody else.
Sometimes, people named Junior make more of their names than the Senior who created them. Sometimes, the name of the offspring becomes more famous — known with minimal, if any knowledge of its originator. Floyd Mayweather. Ken Griffey. Martin Luther King. Sammy Davis. Harry Connick. William F. Buckley. Al Gore. Clint Eastwood. Burt Reynolds. Robert De Niro. Robert Redford. Robert Downey.
One of my favorite artists — singer Loudon Wainwright, III — is known more than his father (a columnist and editor for LIFE magazine) but less than his son, Rufus (a popular singer and composer). Fittingly, Loudon III wrote about his heritage in a soul-wrenching song titled "Surviving Twin" after his father, Loudon II passed away. While there are several lyrics that yield frogs in the throats of listeners, one line has been omnipresent in my head since I began writing today:
"When a man fears his legacy, a man can come undone."
Michael Jordan may or may not appreciate that, arguably, he is not the most famous Jordan today. Such is life.
The next time you stop at the Molly Pitcher Service Area on the New Jersey Turnpike, ask fellow passengers if they know who the person was that the rest stop is named for. If you think it is Molly Pitcher, think again. Molly Pitcher was actually "Mary Ludwig Hays McCauly," wife of "Battle of Monmouth" American Revolution artilleryman William Hays. According to legend, Mary carried water to cool the cannons and the soldiers. Her nickname became "Captain Molly." One century later, the nickname became "Molly Pitcher."
Often, the origin of one's name has no bearing on one's legacy.
I have a second cousin named Jordyn. Knowing her father is a big sports fan, I texted my first cousin, Marc, on Tuesday to ask if he named his daughter for Michael Jordan. He did not. Turns out the inspiration was actress Elizabeth's Shue character, Jordan Mooney, in the movie "Cocktail."
I was not named for Jared Leto, nor did I inspire the title of a Subway spokesman. Long before a jewelry store jingle would become ingrained in our brains, my mother was asked what should be printed on my birth certificate. Having long admired the name of a boy she went to school with, she said it can only by Jared.
For years, kids have pleaded with their parents to buy them Air Jordans. In the future, young golfers may ask Santa Claus for a shiny new set of Jordan Heirs. There is no way to dictate one's legacy. One day, even the world's most generous contributors will be forgotten, aside from being noted in driving directions. But, at least their names will be known. Often, the inspirations go unrecognized.
Follow Jared on Twitter at @Jared_Max
