In support of a change, with no reservations

Re-energized by the current spate of statuetoppling and buildingrenaming, protestors are on the warpath against sports teams’ nicknames.

Most of their ire is directed at the Washington Redskins, a football team descended from an earlier football team called the Boston Braves to replace a football team called the Cleveland Indians (not to be confused with the baseball team of the same name).

The tom-toms of change also are being pounded in my hometown of Cleveland, which no longer has a football team called the Indians, but does have a baseball team with that name. Although maybe not for long.

I think the change would be a good thing.

We’ve heard all the rationalization about history, tradition and heritage, the same excuses used in defense of waving the Confederate flag. But the history of the Indians is not that much more glorious than the history of the Confederacy; the name has been on Cleveland’s uniforms for 105 years, during which it has won exactly two World Series titles.

Scoff all you want at “political correctness,” but what’s so hard about accepting a change that means a lot to many people but has no real inpact on our lives? Native Americans would be happier and you’d still be able to boo your favorite team’s blunders.

Surprisingly, the backlash from Indians’ diehards hasn’t been as strong this time as it had been earlier. Many, in fact, suggest going back for the future and dusting off previously-used names, including Spiders, Naps and Blues.

Spiders is just one step above Cockroaches and Naps evoke reminders of what watching baseball encourages. But Blues has a certain symmetry in a state that also has the Reds who, incidentally, heard calls to change their name during the Red scare ’50s. The team countered with the response, “We had the name first.”

If you try hard enough, you probably can find objections to at least 50 percent of pro teams’ names. Lions and Tiger and Bears? Objectifying animals. Vikings, Raiders and Buccanneers? Glorifying violence. Saints, Angels and Padres? Religious implications. Green Bay Packers? Distasteful to vegans.

My choice would be to rename Cleveland’s baseball team the Bulldogs and save money by sharing a mascot with Cleveland’s football team.

My wife, who is turned off by football’s violence, suggested that teams should consider more pacific name sources, such as flowers. Tune in Sunday to watch the Tennessee Tulips take on the Atlanta Azaleas.

Cleveland Chrysanthemums might be acceptable, I suppose, although there’s the problem of fitting it on the front of the jerseys.

And remembering how to spell it.

Pittsburgh Pansies, on the other hand, would be a much tougher sell.