Oh, hi!

I didn’t see you there.

My view was obstructed by this enormous koala mascot costume. He represents a local lacrosse team, the Raging Marsupials, and boy if he isn’t affective at getting people up on their feet and shouting.

Because if you saw this thing barreling toward you, flapping its arms, I bet you fifteen American dollars that you’d get up and scream, too.

So, let’s talk about mascots!

It is critical that you realize that I have stumbled onto a website that sells mascot costumes, and I am NOT just posting photos of my friends from Supper Club. And now that you know that, I’ll tell you this:

They have a whole section dedicated exclusively to Wolves and Coyotes. Here is an offering called “New Wolf.”

In the world of mascotry, the word “new” is synonymous with “super drunk.” Plus, to be convinced to wear something like that, you’d have to be about six scotches in. This is the sporting event equivalent of putting a lampshade on your head. “Hey! Ted’s wildly housed! See if he’ll put on the New Wolf suit and do that dance again!”

Drinking games aside, mascots were invented as a way to get people excited, amped up, ready to support their team. The mascot’s job is to make the crowd feel like their side is the invincible side and that the other team will be cowering in fear at the mere sight of them.

Which is why, when you click on “Mean Wolf,” you expect to find something fearsome and awe-inspiring. But, you know, you get this:

A) This looks more like a bear. B) A really friendly bear. C) What is happening with his tail? It looks like a piece of drift wood.

In fact, “Pro Wolf” looks meaner than “Mean Wolf.”

“Pro Wolf” also looks like Paul Sorvino with Beau Bridges’ eyebrows, if you ask me. And I would like to draw your attention, please, to Pro Wolf’s alarmingly tiny hand. But still, more ominous than Mean Wolf.

A thing that I do not understand about this tastefully rendered Native American costume is why there must be a false head. According to my history teachers, Native Americans are human beings. And, with the exception of a couple of dogs, most of the life forms who don mascot costumes are also human. So it would stand to reason that the wearer of this costume would have at least a reasonably human-looking head. And yet, here we are, staring at this… thing.

But somehow FRUIT doesn’t require any additional facial covering.

Nope, it’s fine if Mr. Apple (bodysuit not included) shows his Brawny Paper Towel Guy face at every event. He gets to go squinting around dressed as something humans EAT. But the HUMAN mascots have to cover their faces.

Oh, wait. I get it. It’s to protect the identity of the poor jerk who has to wear something like this at his senior homecoming game:

Did anyone else have to stifle a scream and/or fountain of vomit when they saw this astonishing pilgrim suit?

Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Look, facial covering controversy aside, you just COULD NOT have a sporting event (amateur OR professional) without a team mascot. They are essential to the overall mood of the arena.

And I get the sense that trained professional mascots understand the power they wield. And that power transfers to them, and soon, they cannot be without the suit for very many hours at a time or they spiral into a deep depression.

What evidence do I have of this? See below:

The man behind this “scorpion” suit was so desperate to get back into it, that it was the FIRST THING he unpacked on moving day. Behind him are dozens of boxes containing things that a normal person would consider more important than this. You know, bath towels, clean underwear, Nutella. But no, Phil “The Stinger” Jameson needed to put his suit back on the second his wife went to return the U-Haul.

Similarly, this guy put the tiger suit on before he moved any furniture into his apartment.

He doesn’t have a couch or a TV or a dining room table, but that’s okay, because he can’t see out of those eyes, and he doesn’t want to sit down, because last week he “messed” himself in the suit, and, what with the move and everything, hasn’t had a chance to take it to the dry cleaners.

Okay. I’m sorry. I’ve insulted mascots, which is unfair. It is important to remember that deep down, in their furry little hearts, they are people too. They serve an important purpose: To pump up sports fans everywhere, to get them excited about their team, to make everyone in the stands feel like the game they are watching is the most riveting sporting event in the world!

Even if that sport is Skee-Ball.

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