“Naming kids Kobe becomes common - Press-Enterprise” plus 1

Naming kids Kobe becomes common - Press-Enterprise

Posted: 14 Feb 2010 10:22 PM PST

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When Kobe Bryant's team emerged from a timeout trailing by one in the final seconds of a USA Basketball intrasquad game almost three years ago, more was at stake than just bragging rights among some of the sport's biggest stars.

Riding on the outcome of that final possession was also the name of a Sacramento couple's first-born son.

If Bryant sank the game-winning shot, Derrek Gillespie's pregnant wife promised her husband he could name their boy after his basketball idol. If Bryant either missed or didn't shoot, Renay Gillespie won the right to choose any name she wanted.

They shook hands to seal the wager. Twelve days later, Kobe Adrian Gillespie was born.

"I always wanted to name my son Kobe because his work ethic and will to be the best are traits I want in my son," Derrek said. "My wife wasn't too thrilled about the name at first, but now she's become a big Lakers fan and a big Kobe fan. She's happy with it now."

Americans have always taken cues from Hollywood on everything from clothes to cars to charitable causes, so it's no surprise that baby names are celebrity-driven. You're more likely to meet a newborn "Rihanna," "Jude" or "Jada" these days than you are a "Jane," "Harold" or "Helen."

The name "Kobe" never cracked the Social Security Administration's list of the nation's 1,000 most popular boy's names until Bryant's rookie season, but its stature has mirrored the ebb and flow of the Lakers star's career ever since. It rocketed into the low 200s by the time Bryant captured his first championship in 2000, dipped noticeably after he was accused of rape three years later and more recently has steadily climbed again.

"When a celebrity's name enters the general population, in some cases it's a direct fandom thing, but usually it's the name more than the celebrity," said Linda Rosenkrantz, co-author of "The Baby Name Bible" and co-founder of nameberry.com. "With Kobe, it's probably both. He's a champion athlete and his name is distinctive but appealing."

The more than 10,000 American families who named a son or daughter Kobe in the past 13 years represent a diverse ethnic and geographic background. There's a hoops-crazed pastor in Orlando, an aspiring rapper in Pittsburgh, a women's basketball star turned elementary school principal in Georgia and two pro beach volleyball players in Santa Barbara. Their admiration for Bryant is the common thread tying them together.

Of course, epicenter of the trend is the Los Angeles area, where the influence of the Lakers is greatest. In one Highland neighborhood alone, two 8-year-olds are both named after Bryant, as are two boys in the same first-grade class at Riverside's Collett Elementary School.

'I'm comfortable'

It still amazes Bryant that his name is now so pervasive because he used to hate that his parents named him after the pricey, well-marbled steak they saw on a restaurant menu. He doesn't recall ever encountering another "Kobe" as a kid but insisted he's flattered whenever he meets a young namesake these days.

"It's an honor," Bryant said. "It means that they're feeling you at a much deeper level than just basketball. Either that or they just think the name is cool. Either way, I'm comfortable."

Parents who name a kid after Bryant often go to great lengths to make sure their child grows up to love the Lakers star as much as they do. They hang framed posters or jerseys above the baby's crib, shell out $100 for baby shoes modeled after Bryant's latest basketball sneakers and place Nerf hoops around the house so little Kobe can master a jump shot while learning to walk.

Nine-year-old Kobe Tyler Mirto, of Hubbard, Ohio, has been able to point out Bryant on TV during games or commercials since he was a toddler. He's such a devoted fan that he once passed up the chance to meet LeBron James when his father scheduled an appointment with representatives of the Cavs star to discuss a Cleveland-area development project.

"He was worried I would take him to meet LeBron and Kobe would get mad," John Mirto said, chuckling. "I think he thought Kobe would be jealous."

It's rare for a Kobe mini-me to actually have the chance to meet Bryant in person, but an Orlando pastor and his son hatched a plot that caught the Lakers star's attention three years ago. The Grandstaff family received plum tickets across from the Lakers bench for a game in Atlanta, so then-5-year-old Cobe donned a No. 24 jersey and matching pair of Nike sneakers and waved a homemade sign that read: "Kobe My Parents Named Me After You."

Although a simple wave or head nod would have been enough to delight the Grandstaffs, Bryant far exceeded their expectations, inviting the family to the locker room after the game, posing for pictures and autographing Cobe's poster. The evening made such an impact on the young boy that he still regularly asks his father if he can change the spelling of his first name to "Kobe" and his middle name from "Robert" to "Bryant."

"I have a picture of him holding my son. That's more than I ever need," said Tim Grandstaff, who has supported the Lakers since childhood because his native Virginia doesn't have an NBA team.

Less than enthused

No matter how passionate their parents are about the Lakers, not every young Kobe shares the same appreciation.

Kobe Elizabeth Wilson, the 11-year-old daughter of former Jacksonville State women's basketball player Deaidra Wilson, likes the originality of her name but didn't inherit a sliver of her mother's enthusiasm for the sport. That's been difficult for Deaidra, a self-described "sports fanatic" who has rooted for the Lakers since the Showtime era.

"She is not a basketball player, which is absolutely breaking my heart," said Deaidra, a basketball coach and elementary school principal in Georgia. "She did play soccer, so maybe there's hope. She's going to play a sport or I will die trying."

Like any child named after someone famous, a young Kobe is stuck with the connection to his celebrity namesake even if something bad happens to Bryant. Tim Grandstaff's friends kidded that his son ought to go by his middle name after Bryant's Lakers lost to Boston in the NBA Finals two years ago. While Kobe Bryant Campoverde, of Riverside, also caught flack from first-grade classmates the day after the Celtics series.

"That's OK," father Jose Campoverde said. "I still sent him to school that day with a Lakers jersey on."

The taunts no doubt were crueler in summer 2003 when a Colorado woman accused Bryant of rape, forever damaging the wholesome image he'd cultivated. The charges were dismissed more than a year later but a third as many families named children after Bryant in 2005 as did in 2003 and many of those who already had a young Kobe in the family recall experiencing second thoughts.

As a lifelong Lakers fan who had just watched Bryant lead his favorite team to three straight championships, Riverside resident Geoffrey Buyco never considered naming his first-born son anything besides Kobe in early 2003. Friends and family bombarded him about changing the name once the sexual assault case against Bryant became public a few months later, but Buyco insists he "completely had faith" in his guy.

"The Colorado thing did make me think a little bit more though," he admitted. "Some kids are named after O.J. (Simpson). How bad must that feel?"

To Derrek and Renay Gillespie, Bryant's work ethic and competitiveness far outweigh any negative traits he might have.

"I want my son to be named after a great," Renay said. "If it wasn't Jordan, I'm happy with Kobe."

Reach Jeff Eisenberg at 951-368-9357 or jeisenberg@PE.com

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Marlboro police officer delivers Valentine's Day baby - NJ.com

Posted: 14 Feb 2010 04:52 PM PST

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By Brian Whitley/The Star-Ledger

February 14, 2010, 7:41PM

It was a labor of love — and the law.

Just after midnight, 25-year-old expectant mother Tabitha Finucan felt her contractions pick up. An interval of every few hours suddenly became every few minutes. Then minutes became seconds.

Sitting in a Chevy Blazer that had just begun pulling away from her Marlboro home, Finucan realized her second child was not going to wait 30 minutes for her to reach Monmouth Medical Center in Long Branch. She also knew she could not make it back into her house. Her boyfriend's mother called 911.

Moments later, Marlboro police officer Janice Shewan, a veteran of more than 16 years, switched on her lights and siren. She radioed officer Andrew Goldberg, who like her is an emergency medical technician, on a private channel.

"Come on," she told him. "I've been waiting my whole career to deliver a baby."

Both officers sped to Finucan's house on Route 79 near Lloyd Street. Shewan told Finucan to move to the back seat.

"She said, 'What does that mean?' Shewan recalled. "I said, 'That means we're having a baby right here.'"

The officers looked for a maternity kit in one of their cruisers. They found none, but grabbed a plastic emergency blanket instead. Bobby Vreeland, the baby's father and a family friend stood by as his mother Mary Vreeland, brought towels and blankets from the house

The laboring mother leaned against Goldberg. He thought back to EMT school 13 years ago.

"I was encouraging her, telling her to push. To breathe. The whole nine yards," Goldberg said. "The whole time it's happening, there's a million things going on. You go into autopilot."

As Vreeland, 25, stood in awe, his mother snapped photos with a cell phone.

Shewan slipped on gloves, told Finucan to push — and then felt the baby's head. After two more pushes, at about 12:15 a.m., she held a little girl.

"She was excellent," Finucan said of the officer yesterday. "If she didn't say it, I never would have known she hadn't delivered a baby before."

Paramedics arrived soon afterward, the officers said, to cut the baby's umbilical cord. They took Finucan to CentraState Medical Center in Freehold.

Shewan called the hospital several hours later, and a staffer gave her the news: The baby weighed in at 5 pounds, 14 ounces and was named Harmony Vreeland.

Shortly after the phone call, Finucan's mother-in-law started driving to Marlboro police headquarters to show officers there her photos of the baby. But the Blazer broke down on the way, and Shewan was there again, this time to help push it into a parking lot.

Her efforts won't soon be forgotten. When Finucan's boyfriend arrived at the hospital, the couple began discussing middle names. They wanted their new daughter's initials to be H.J. to match her older sister's.

"You know, the police officer's name is Janice," Finucan recalled her boyfriend saying. "I looked at my (baby names) book and it said, 'God is gracious.' It all kind of fell together."

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