The Washington Nationals recently brought up a pitcher whose name has baffled announcers, scoreboard operators, and spell-checkers alike: Zach Brzycy (pronounced BRITZ-ee).
At first glance, the name looks unpronounceable to most American fans—a tangle of consonants seemingly pulled from a random Scrabble draw. But Brzycy’s surname likely has Polish origins, where such combinations are not uncommon. In Polish phonetics, “rz” often sounds like the “zh” in treasure, and the letter “y” serves as a vowel. Still, the Americanized pronunciation—BRITZ-ee—has clearly evolved for accessibility, a common choice for athletes wanting to maintain their identity while ensuring it’s usable in the fast-paced world of professional sports.
His case is far from unique. From broadcasters who dread mispronunciations to jerseys that can barely contain all the letters, names in sports come with unexpected challenges. But behind each spelling and syllable lies a story—of heritage, of defiance, of reinvention.
We’ve all seen those jerseys: “Smith Jr.” or “Johnson Sr.”—a nod to generational lineage that continues through sons, and sometimes even grandsons. Names like Ken Griffey Jr., who played alongside his father for the Seattle Mariners, or LeBron James Jr. (Bronny), who carries not just the name but the colossal expectations of his legendary father. The “Jr.” or “Sr.” isn’t just a formality—it’s an identity marker, a tether to legacy.
But not every athlete keeps the name they were given…
In sports, a name is more than just what the announcer calls out when a player scores. It’s stitched onto jerseys, printed on endorsement deals, shouted by fans, and remembered in record books. And for many athletes, a name carries the weight of heritage, family history, political convictions—or simply the desire to be seen and heard accurately.
We’ve all seen those jerseys: “Smith Jr.” or “Johnson Sr.”—a nod to generational lineage that continues through sons, and sometimes even grandsons. Names like Ken Griffey Jr., who played alongside his father for the Seattle Mariners, or LeBron James Jr. (Bronny), who carries not just the name but the colossal expectations of his legendary father. The “Jr.” or “Sr.” isn’t just a formality—it’s an identity marker, a tether to legacy.
But not every athlete keeps the name they were given.
Some change it for ideological reasons. Others adjust it for pronunciation, marketing, or visibility. Still others cling to their names stubbornly, even when they’re hard to spell, difficult to pronounce, or long enough to wrap around a jersey twice.
So why do athletes change—or not change—their names? The answer is as layered as the individuals themselves.
Changing a Name: Reclaiming Identity
Perhaps one of the most iconic name changes in sports history came when Cassius Clay became Muhammad Ali. It wasn’t a branding move—it was a religious and political decision. By converting to Islam and abandoning what he called his “slave name,” Ali made it clear that his identity, and his struggle, could no longer be separated from his name.
“I am Muhammad Ali, a free name—it means beloved of God,” he famously said. “I didn’t choose it, it was chosen for me by Elijah Muhammad. I believe in it and I live by it.”
This was more than just a personal decision—it was a cultural statement. Many athletes have followed a similar path. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, born Ferdinand Lewis Alcindor Jr., made a similar conversion, citing his desire to embrace his African roots and Muslim faith.
In recent years, NFL player Chad Johnson changed his name to Chad Ochocinco to match his jersey number—85. That change was more playful and performative than ideological, but even so, it sparked conversation about how names on the back of a jersey can become part of an athlete’s brand, and ultimately, their legacy.
Simplifying for Pronunciation: Accessibility vs. Authenticity
In a world where broadcasters, fans, and even teammates often butcher non-Anglophone names, some athletes have opted to simplify their names to make their lives a little easier.
Take Giannis Antetokounmpo, the NBA superstar known as the “Greek Freak.” His surname (pronounced YAHN-nis AHN-teh-toh-KOON-boh) has been mangled in dozens of ways, but to his credit, he’s never shortened it. He could have gone by “Giannis A.” or “Giannis Adetokunbo” (the Yoruba spelling), but he didn’t. His name, hard as it is to pronounce, carries cultural weight: he’s the son of Nigerian immigrants raised in Greece, and he proudly represents both.
Or consider Dikembe Mutombo Mpolondo Mukamba Jean-Jacques Wamutombo. Try fitting that on a jersey. The Congolese basketball legend never shortened his name for American fans, and his full name is a rhythmic symphony of cultural pride. Most people know him simply as Dikembe Mutombo—but his full name was always there, always real.
Then there are the athletes who do change for ease. Danilo Gallinari, a talented NBA player from Italy, might’ve kept his surname, but some athletes from similar backgrounds have opted for more phonetic spellings or dropped diacritics altogether. Milos Raonic (pronounced MEE-losh ROWN-itch) rarely hears his name pronounced correctly in tennis broadcasts. While he hasn’t changed it, he’s admitted that it’s part of the price of carrying a name rooted in Montenegrin history while playing on a global stage.
Accents, Apostrophes, and the Battle With Typography
Sports uniforms weren’t made for names like Ha-Seong Kim, D’Brickashaw Ferguson, or Alejandro Kirk Hernández. The typographic limitations of jerseys often lead to frustrating compromises for athletes with names that include accents, tildes, or special characters.
In baseball, José Altuve, Víctor Robles, and Jesús Luzardo are often listed without the accent marks that should rightly appear in Spanish. That small omission may seem minor, but to many, it represents the erasure of identity and language. A name is a word, and spelling matters.
The NFL once struggled with names like Ndamukong Suh (en-DAH-moo-kong SOO), whose name reflects his Cameroonian heritage. Soccer jerseys around the world have names that curve into U-shapes just to fit on a uniform—Jakub Błaszczykowski (BWAHSH-chih-kov-skee) of Poland comes to mind.
But despite all this, many athletes insist on keeping their names, diacritics and all, because they’re not just decorative—they’re definitive.
Family Names: When Heritage Is Too Heavy or Too Sacred
Some athletes find their names to be both a blessing and a burden.
NBA player Ron Artest famously changed his name to Metta World Peace in 2011. While this was partly a publicity move, it was also spiritual. “Metta” is a Buddhist term for loving-kindness, and the change reflected a desire for personal growth after several turbulent seasons.
More recently, Enes Kanter added “Freedom” to his name after becoming a U.S. citizen and intensifying his criticism of Turkey’s government. The name Enes Freedom is now both a personal statement and a political one.
But for others, the family name is too sacred to leave behind. Think of Patrick Mahomes II, who carries his father’s name into every Super Bowl. Or Vladimir Guerrero Jr., whose bat echoes the legacy of his Hall of Fame father. Their names are not just identifiers—they’re standards to be measured against.
Even in cases where family history is complex, the name can be a way of anchoring identity in a rapidly shifting world.
When Athletes Keep the Hard Names—And Make You Learn Them
There’s something powerful in making the world learn your name.
Think of Muggsy Bogues, the shortest player ever to play in the NBA at 5’3″. His name was actually Tyrone Curtis Bogues, but his nickname—odd, unforgettable—became his brand.
Or Novak Đoković (JOH-ko-vich), the Serbian tennis champion, whose name includes a character (Đ) most Western keyboards don’t even support. Still, he never altered it for convenience.
Then there’s Siobhan Haughey (pronounced shuh-VAWN HAW-hee), the Hong Kong swimmer who made headlines at the Olympics, and in doing so, forced commentators to confront Irish spelling in an Asian context.
These athletes send a message: If you can learn “Tchaikovsky” and “Schwarzenegger,” you can learn this too.
The Bottom Line: A Name Is a Choice—and a Stand
Names in sports are deeply personal, often political, and occasionally poetic. Whether shortened, changed, kept, or expanded, they reflect something critical about how an athlete sees themselves—and how they want to be seen.
In an industry obsessed with image, efficiency, and branding, choosing to change—or not change—your name is one of the most powerful forms of self-expression. It’s a declaration of belonging or rebellion. It’s claiming your roots or choosing new ones. It’s drawing attention, or deflecting it. It’s survival. It’s pride.
So the next time you see a name that barely fits on a jersey or hear a commentator trip over a pronunciation, consider what that athlete may have carried to keep that name intact—or what it cost to leave it behind.
Because in the world of sports, names aren’t just labels.
They’re legacies.