OK, here's how it happened. It was my sophomore year in High School. I was a left wing on the Junior Varsity soccer team. It was about two weeks into the season and during practice one day we were in the middle of a full-field scrimmage. I received a pass from my teammate near midfield and began to dribble down the left hand sideline. As I raced towards the goal, another teammate (who shall remain nameless) shouted out with his Italian accent, "CALLAHAN, CALLAHAN!!!! I'm open CALLAHAN!!!!" When the play was over everyone, totally confused, turned and looked at him as if he had two heads. "Why are you calling Chris Callahan?" one player asked. "Well, that's his name isn't it? Christopher Callahan?" he responded as if we were the ones who were mistaken. I guess he was partially correct, because for the rest of high school I was known and referred to not by Chris, or Conaway, but Callahan.

Fast forward to senior year. I'm on the Varsity soccer team now, and the running joke on the team is how many different modifications can be made to my nickname. Here are some of the gems that my teammates and coaches came up with:

Calladopolis
Callowitz
Callenberg
Callaway
Callenstein

I can't remember them all, but you get the idea. So now you know why they call me Callahan. No it's not a terribly funny or interesting story, but that's how it happened.