Don’t be fooled for a second: It isn’t the name.

Yes, we remember when Kramer couldn’t help but yell “Yo‑Yo Ma!” in what was apparently a case of quasi‑Tourettes on an episode of “Seinfeld.” And then there was the time David Letterman held the hapless cellist’s driver’s license up to the camera for all to see. Yep. The name really is “Yo‑Yo.”

Okay, the name is part of the charm. How many of us boast monickers cognate with popular toys?

But that’s not the reason the concert Ma is slated to give May 22 with the Phoenix Symphony is sold out. The real reason is two‑fold: the man and the instrument.

Let’s start with the cello. In the family of bowed string instruments, the violin is the songbird. Facility and tensile strength are its virtues. This amalgamation of wood and wire is under such pressure it should by rights fly apart, yet the force is translated into piercing beauty. The cello, by contrast, is mellow and contemplative. Its upper register, like that of any instrument, does intensify its focus. But the lowest notes are rich almost to the point of being muddy–Stravinsky refused to write for solo cello for this very reason–and the middle range is burnished and ripe.

So, what is the attraction of the cello? Soulfulness. The emotions associated with the violin are passionate (Beethoven), lyrical (Mendelssohn), bravura (Brahms) and defiant (Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich and other Russians). The cello ruminates, ponders, strokes the chin. It can dance, too, but when it does, it steps gently. It speaks from the innermost place in the human psyche, where the personality meets a greater consciousness–the soul.

To play the cello, then, you gotta be a soul guy. Mstislav Rostropovich was one such. The great Russian cellist died last month, his passing all but unnoticed in the major press, despite the fact he was one of the most important musicians of the later 20th century. Ma has had better luck being noticed, with the name and all, and has even been called the Leonard Bernstein of the present day. That’s beside the point.

Everyone who has ever met Yo‑Yo Ma knows this about him: He is the most sincerely nice man in the music business. That’s been my experience in meeting him, and it’s the report I get from everyone who’s ever met him. You can’t fake that kind of thing. Personality is a litmus test and you can’t cheat on a litmus test. In Ma’s case, the personality informs the music he plays and the way he plays it, whether it’s Bach or Dvorak or Tan Dun or pop arrangements. The instrument is thus perfectly matched to the man.

Though May 22 is sold out, you can call (602) 495‑1999 and ask to be put on a waiting list.

A brawl last week at the Boston Pops brought a world of violence more generally associated with heavy metal and hip‑hop into classical music. Video, available online, apparently shows two men slugging it out in the balcony of Boston Symphony Hall during  a Pops concert led by Keith Lockhart. Lockhart stopped the concert as a result of the spectacular fistfight.

News sources later identified one of the men as Matt Ellinger. Ellinger claimed the fight began when he tried to get the guy in front of him to stop talking during the music. After tapping on the talker’s shoulder a couple of times and shushing him, Ellinger says he sent for an usher. When he told the noisy fellow an usher was on his way, the guy “coldcocked” Ellinger, to use Ellinger’s word.

Hey, if that’s the truth, Ellinger should’ve skipped the shoulder‑tapping and simply heaved the talker over the balcony rail. The rash of talking in concerts (and plays and movies and anything where there’s an audience) is out of control. I have sat near people who were apparently unaware they were not at home, watching television. TV, in fact, is the most probable culprit in raising the noise level of audiences everywhere.

I encourage everyone, despite the apparent attack on Ellinger, to tell talkers in audiences to shut up. Tell them soon, tell them firmly, and tell them often if necessary. These people are an affront to civility, about which Ellinger had something to say in a newspaper story about the incident:

“You would think the symphony would be the last bastion of hope for civility to exist. Nope–not anymore.”