Edit: formatting
As a young man, he hadn't given his name much thought, beyond the natural "why this one" probings of a child asking every possible question the instant it pops to mind.
His mother only offered a vague "He was a character in a book I read long ago. Eat your broccoli so you can have some of the brownies I made."
A book. His mother was part book. Her fingers were more often curled into the pages of one than not. Her face, not soft but not yet hardened to diamond, was most often a Kilroy behind whatever newest treasure she'd discovered in the library.
Dan was also a reader, but his interests rarely crossed with hers. For her, it was histories, old fiction, and biographies.
His intrests ran through the darker murder mysteries (his mom: 'just can't sleep if I read that'), spectulative fiction and sci-fi ('cowboys in space'), science fantasy ('space opera'), mysticism and spoof religions ('pfft!), and a wide range of other topics.
Later ruminations on his name included that it sounded more like a command or exhortation: Dan! Forth into the wilderness with ye, to find adventure, food, and your fortune!
The first time he was called "Dan the Man!" was in high school when he managed to come through with a 12 pack of mediocre beer for a small party.
It was nothing he could repeat.. a complete fluke, really. In preparing for a fishing trip, his father had packed everything but one twelver of piss beer.
Filler beer. He and his buddies would likely never notice it missing, there would be so much suds floating around.
So he'd filched it and hidden it long enough to let a couple friends know. They all met up in the big park, well hidden in a spot they'd been coming to for years for less nefarious purposes.
When he arrived, a couple people were already there, and they greeted him with claps on the back and declarations of "It's Dan the Man! Hell yeah, let's have a brew!"
For the next week, amongst his friend group, he was sometimes greeted as such, especially at first. It tailed off gradually to a very occasional reference.
The next time it happened, it was much different. Dan the Man was not him.
Daniel (Dan, yell!) Eriksson had caught a seemingly impossible pass to score the winning touchdown at a home game, and been turned into the schoolwide "Dan the Man".
It hadn't even been that important of a game.
Dan Eriksson was the hero, though, and a very public one at that. Such a small school, small town, small fishbowl atmosphere insured that he was the man.
He played basketball as well as football. The announcers refered to him by his nickname, and even though his average was about the same as everyone else, the shots he made seemed somehow more impactful.
At least the crowd thought so.
Danforth wasn't necessarily bothered by these developments, but it did make him ponder.
Was every person named Dan or any derivitave, at some point their life, destined to be "Dan the Man"?
Is there some deterministic frequency in the universe that insists upon this happening? Are these the extra dimensions that String Theory proposes?
It didn't happen again until he'd graduated and started work in an office, in a bigger town. After a period lost in the shuffle as a new hire, he started recognizing people, and had little conversations with them during lunch or on ergo breaks.
One day, one of his work acquaintences was upset. His printer was broken and he had a crushing deadline. Tech support told him it would be at least two hours before someone could be sent over.
Danforth said, "I'll take a look at it for you. I have a little experience with tech."
He didn't, really, but he did have a willingness to try. The worst outcome would be that he couldn't fix it. At least he tried, and this might at least help his coworker feel a bit better.
When they got to the printer, he opened it up and took out each of the cartridges. He blew carefully into each, unsure where air might go in.
He fiddled with a few bits and bobs under the hood, took a tissue and wiped some dust out of the area, then put everything back together.
When it turned back on, his new friend was able to print after a small amount of wrangling.
"Dan the MAN!" he said enthusiastically "You got it! Hell yeah. Thank you!"
It felt good to be helpful. The rest of his duties weren't really rewarding, and no one ever thanked him for doing them.
Two days later, another person approached him, this time with a minor computer issue.. something to do with cursor speed. He knew what settings to adjust, and it was a simple fix.
"I hear you're the man when it comes to tech!" she said, by way of introduction, and, "Oh my god, thank you SO much!" when he was done.
During the next week, three people came to him.
Within a month, he was the informal tech guru for the entire department, and his regular work was beginning to suffer.
Dan the Man was starting to feel like going back to Danforth, the mostly anonymous drone.The thank yous tailed off and the issues became knottier and more difficult to resolve.
He began doing research during his time off to learn more about the issues he was being presented.
Three months in, he had a performance review, and things were not good. His manager said things like "productivity metrics" and "inactive time" and "socializing".
Future consequences were mentioned. He took note.
On Monday, his first "customer" arrived at ten thirty in the morning with USB issues.
"Who am i?"
"You're the tech guy."
"No, that's where you're wrong. I am Danforth, formerly Dan the Man. You may go."
Things were quiet again. 'Fuck Dan the Man,' he thought, when he felt a bit meditative, 'that guy is a pain in the ass."