Nicknamers also seem to have a streak of anthropological stereotyping in them. Lots of nicknames are ethnic groups that one supposes, are supposed to be especially uncouth: the Fighting Irish (Notre Dame), the Fighting Scots (Wooster), the Vandals (Idaho), the Tartars (Wayne State) the Wasps (Emory & Henry) and, of course, the Indians, an increasingly unpopular nickname.

The Indians used to be Dartmouth's nickname of until they, like Harvard, decided they wanted to be a color. Only they wanted to be a big color.

Stanford used to be the Indians, too, until they turned into the Cardinals. But those crazy Californians soon decided that they didn't want to be associated with either birds or the Catholic clergy, so they too became a color by subtracting the "s." Voila, the Cardinal.

The wonderful world of nature provides some intriguing nicknames. Believe it or not, there are actually football players named after trees (the Sycamores of Indiana State) and lakes (the Hurons of Eastern Michigan).

One gets the idea that lots of teams simply couldn't think of anything so they just made up stuff that alliterated with the name of the college. The Utah Utes, the St. Olaf Oles, the Muhlenberg Mules and the Illinois Fighting Illini are all cop outs.

Other nicknames take real imagination. When Pace University had to think of a nickname a few years ago, they chose the Setters. And perhaps the best nickname in all of college football is the Southwestern Louisiana Ragin' Cajuns, a nickname that strikes just the right balance between tradition and intimidation, without being too cutesy.

In the wake of yesterday's weather, perhaps the team with the most ironic nickname of the week just flew into the Hub yesterday to play the Boston College Eagles.

Who else? The Miami Hurricanes.