Sharp choice for Richmond baseball: the Flatheads

Imagine with me a day in the not so distant future. The ballpark debate has been settled. A gleaming stadium sits overlooking the floodwall and the river in Manchester.

It's April. Opening day. A day of pure promise.

Your young son and daughter are ready, have been for hours.

"Daddy, can we go now?" they plead in unison.

"Yes, kids, yes we can," you say.

You strap the canoe to the top of the car and head down to the Reedy Creek entrance to the James River. Your wife drops you off and says she'll meet you at the game.

The kids have their life preservers and catfish heads on. Foam fingers made to look like a rod and reel are stowed safely in dry bags.

You shove off. An hour later, having navigated around Hollywood Rapid, you paddle into the new stadium-side kayak marina underneath the Manchester Bridge. The boaters outside San Francisco's AT&T Park have nothing on this, you think.

Your wife meets you riverside, impatient. "The game's about to start," she says.

From the other side of the floodwall you hear a chant rise up from the capacity crowd: "FLATHEADS! FLATHEADS! FLATHEADS!"

Your kids jam on their foam fingers and adjust their catfish heads.

"Daddy, do my barbels look OK?" your daughter asks.

"Yes, honey, your painted-on fish whiskers look fine," you say.

"They're barbels, daddy," she says, rolling her eyes.

She and her brother sprint along the top of the floodwall toward the front gate. You and your wife follow along. They take your tickets. You rush past the 50,000-gallon aquarium full of flathead catfish on the main concourse, climb the stairs toward sunlight, and take your seats along the first-base side. The grey beast of a mascot is gyrating on top of the opponent's dugout.

The Flatheads take the field. Fans are waving rally towels with "Hook 'Em!" emblazoned on one side. The chant continues leading up to the first pitch: "FLATHEADS! FLATHEADS! FLATHEADS!"

Can't you just see it? What a scene that would be! Keep it in mind as the naming saga of our new minor-league team continues. Right now fans can vote on six possible names for the team, the Hambones, Rock Hoppers, Rhinos, Flying Squirrels, Flatheads and Hush Puppies, the wildcard chosen by CNBC sports business reporter Darren Rovell.

Team leadership will announce the new name this Thursday.

The names have generated hundreds of reader comments at TD.com. It seems every other conversation I have these days is about the choices. Few seem to like them. I tend to agree, except for one.

Flatheads is solid. Why? It passes four key tests:

1 - It's silly. I mean that in the most positive sense possible. A name that takes itself too seriously is bound to be boring.

2 - It easily translates into merchandising. Good luck selling "Hush Puppies" T-shirts. The flathead catfish is a stealthy - and hideously unattractive - predator. Smells like marketing gold to me.

3 - It's Richmondy. Yes, the flathead catfish is a non-native species, but, like invading hordes of carpetbaggers from the North (yours truly included), it's made itself right at home. If you're a Richmond fisherman and you've never caught a flathead, well, you're not really a Richmond fisherman.

4 - It passes the "head" test. What's the head test? Ask yourself: Which of those names translates best into headgear? Think Cheesehead in Green Bay or Cheesesteakhead in Philly. The Hambone isn't bad. The Catfishhead is perfection. I dare say if I owned a form-fitting foam Catfishhead I wouldn't limit its usage just to game days.

For all those reasons, the choice is clear. Hush Puppies and Rhinos aren't very Richmondy (yes, I know that's not a word). Flying Squirrels is definitely silly, but I don't see people wearing foam versions on their heads. Hambones may have Virginia bona fides, but it falls flat here in River City. Rock Hoppers is hopeless from a merchandise perspective.

That leaves Flatheads. Richmond is a city defined by the river that runs through it, and the king of that river, at least in the falls portion, is the flathead catfish. It grows to the size of a large border collie, eats anything it can catch (including border collies), is shockingly ugly, yet its meat is downright tasty. It's a great name, a great mascot for Richmond's new minor-league team. Just try it on for size. Swirl it around on the tongue. Imagine the possibilities. It'll grow on you.

See? I knew it would. Say it with me now:

"FLATHEADS! FLATHEADS! FLATHEADS!"