This story is part of FanSided’s Fandoms of the Year, a series spotlighting the teams, athletes and cultures that defined sports fandom in 2025.
The perfect nickname can transform a sports star into an icon. Hammerin' Hank. Air Jordan. Prime Time. They turn stories into myths, exploits into legends. If you want to be great, you have to have a great nickname.
The best nicknames capture an essential quality of the athlete, communicating something unique and immediately identifiable about their personality or production. This year was a banner year for nicknames, and these are our favorites — perfect tags for a rising group of stars ready to become somthing even more.
Roman Anthony
Are you not entertained? The weight of expectations can’t be overstated in sports, and Roman Anthony was forced into that position tenfold. Not only was he baseball’s top prospect when he was called up, but he joined the Red Sox after the Rafael Devers trade, basically to be Boston’s savior. And lo and behold, he might’ve been.
Every savior needs a nickname, so too came The Roman Empire. And even for a 21-year-old, it couldn’t have felt more apt once Anthony adjusted to the majors. The actual Roman Empire of history started small in, you know, Rome. But as the years went on, they conquered more than just Italy as a wholly dominant force. It’s almost like a comp pick out of Stoneman Douglas High School becoming not just baseball’s top prospect, but someone who lived up to that potential immediately, and with limitless potential dominance laying ahead.
The hope in Boston remains that The Roman Empire won’t just extend to the Harbor. It’ll extend to the Bronx. To Camden Yards. To north of the border. And yeah, to Tampa (or, you know, St. Petersburg) as well. That’s the trajectory things are already on, and it doesn’t have to stop there either.—Cody Williams
Area 51
In June 2023, the San Antonio Spurs drafted a franchise-changing centerpiece in Victor Wembanyama. With his 7-foot-who-knows frame paired with his unicorn-like all-around abilities, names like The Extraterrestrial and Alien came naturally to describe the center. After all, he's been doing things on the basketball court that no human has any business doing.
One year later, the Alamo City's lottery luck continued, as they moved up yet again to draft a combo guard who should be another long-term centerpiece. Stephon Castle followed in Wembanyama's footsteps to claim the team's second straight Rookie of the Year, and it didn't take long for the dynamic duo to start making waves.
In November 2024, X user Matt Derron pitched a nickname for the duo that instantly stuck, thanks to their jersey numbers. "Area 51," said Derron. "Castle (5) + Wemby (1), and it's a no-fly zone."
Area 51 just happens to be a highly classified United States Air Force facility in Nevada that many believe to have ties to UFOs (the truth is out there!)
Victor practically dunks from the 3-point line, while Stephon isn't that far behind as 2024's Slam Dunk Contest runner-up. The fact that their jersey numbers combine to that of a base associated with so much aerial activity is almost too good to be true. —Josh Paredes
The Big Dumper
Cal Raleigh may have unintentionally started a new body positivity campaign. The Big Dumper became a superstar in 2025, and his monstrous productivity — he became the first MLB catcher to hit 60 home runs in a season — was surpassed in popularity only by his monstrous, uh … Well, the nickname doesn’t come from nowhere.
The moniker was seldom used to poke fun at Raleigh’s sturdy frame, though. Most people were just legitimately impressed with his impressive backside. There were numerous examples of Raleigh’s frame being examined up close and personal on TV broadcasts throughout the year, and it’s tough to blame the camera operators for that.
Former Mariners outfielder Jarred Kelenic coined “The Big Dumper” years ago, long before Raleigh took a swing at the MLB level. Like Raleigh’s on-field success, the nickname took a few years to catch on. But when it did, it went to the moon. The Mariners sold jerseys that replaced “Raleigh” with “The Big Dumper” on the back, fully embracing their unexpected superstar and the silliness of a nickname that was probably never expected to leave a minor league clubhouse.
I say “unexpected” because, despite not becoming a megastar until 2025, Raleigh had already played three MLB seasons before taking the baseball world by storm. He was a good catcher, but not a superstar. As soon as the nickname went mainstream, though, he became the best catcher in baseball, perhaps the best all-around player in the American League, and a home run derby champion. It was a perfect storm, and turned Raleigh from a fan favorite in the PNW to a hero across the entire country.
A great nickname requires some balance. It can’t be too self-serious, or else it becomes a joke at the player’s expense. It also can’t be too abstract, because that may keep people from embracing it. The Big Dumper exists at the perfect intersection of what makes nicknames stick; it’s silly, good-natured, and not particularly difficult to understand.
The Seattle Mariners got closer to the World Series in 2025 than ever before, and Raleigh was the biggest reason why. By itself, the season was thrilling for Mariners fans. Raleigh wearing his objectively outrageous nickname with so much pride turned it into an all-timer.— Quinn Everts
6-7
There's something instantly memorable about the nickname 6-7 for LaMelo Ball. It's unusual and a little confusing at first glance, yet somehow it makes perfect sense once you connect it to the way LaMelo plays basketball.
The 6-7 reference quickly became an overnight viral sensation that has an entire younger generation buzzing with laughter and excitement. What does it really mean? No one seems to be quite sure, but that's sort of the fun in it.
And it's also why this is such a fitting nickname for a player as unpredictable and wildly fun as Ball. Because just like the phrase itself, LaMelo operates in a space where logic bends, and the unexpected becomes the norm.
6-7 is a joke that everyone can be in on, because there's not a whole lot to explain. The simplicity is part of what makes it so catchy. It feels spontaneous, yet it captures something essential about Ball's identity as a player. He is basketball unpredictability personified, a walking highlight reel who turns routine possessions into something entirely his own. The nickname mirrors that spirit. It's chaotic and surprisingly perfect.
It also reflects how LaMelo connects with younger fans in a way few players do. His style has always been rooted in creativity and freedom, and the nickname fits perfectly into that sweet spot where humor, randomness, and personality all meet. It sticks because it feels like something only LaMelo could make cool.
Most nicknames try to define a player, but 6-7 does the opposite. It embraces the fact that LaMelo refuses to fit neatly into any category. The nickname doesn’t tell you what to expect from him. It reminds you to stop trying to predict him in the first place.
In that sense, 6-7 is more than a meme or a passing trend. It’s a perfect snapshot of the LaMelo Ball experience: surprising, entertaining, a little confusing, and always worth watching.—Will Eudy
The Maine Event
Did you know that there are actually 11 distinct types of NBA nicknames? Some are far more common than others, and the ones that cross categories are perhaps the most rare — combinations like The Maine Event.
Cooper Flagg carried this nickname with him into the NBA and — as one of just three NBA players ever born in Maine, and the only one of that three to actually play high school basketball in the state — the rookie is really the only player who could claim it. In terms of nickname taxonomy, it is both an “Origin Descriptor,” like Greek Freak or Three 6 Latvia, and a “The Nickname,” like The Big Ticket, The Admiral or The Dream. We’re also going to give it some bonus point for the delightful little pun on Main/Maine.
On one hand, it’s a painfully obvious nickname. But it’s also completely original, and in that it’s a remarkable reflection of Flagg himself. There is his generic baby face and his familiar measurements — the same height and weight as Cam Johnson, Trey Murphy and Kelly Oubre Jr. And there is also his sneaky flair, his propensity to rise up and throw down in traffic, his unexpected vision and smooth handle for his size.
He is both the product of Penobscot, County and a must-see phenom for the entire nation. He is utterly, and truly, The Maine Event.— Ian Levy