Arms and legs aching from running up and down the field the entire game, vision blurred from sweat, blood and tears coursing down my face and back aching as I lay sprawled on the field after a particularly hard hit, I decided to take a few seconds to regain my breath. Through the bulky confines of my helmet and the dull ringing in my ears, I could hear the muffled cheers of the opposing team and the concerned cries of the fans.
A woman's face interrupted my view of the sky. "Are you okay?" she asked.
I gave her a thumbs up and, bones and muscles screaming in protest, made my way back to my feet with as much gusto as I could manage. I didn't say anything, just gave her a silly wave and raised my hands for a double high-five while doing a goofy dance.
After all, the mascot isn't allowed to talk.
That's right, sports fans. For one night and one night only, this lucky guy got the chance to be something he's always dreamed of: the mascot. Last Wednesday night at the women's soccer game versus Rider, I became the legend, the myth, the marvel.
As I walked through the crowd wearing the big Tiger suit, giving hugs and occasionally doing a crazy shuffling dance, I reflected on the events that led up to my wearing a 20-pound suit of fur and getting wiped out by a crowd of 10-year-old girls.
It had seemed so innocent at first. Why not be the mascot for a game and write an article about what it's like behind the mask? Easy, right?
The rules were pretty simple: "No talking, no taking off any part of the costume and no inappropriate behavior," senior mascot Kinder Noble told me before the game.
"Stay behind the roped-off area, and don't do anything inappropriate," Director of Athletic Marketing Nick Konawalik told me when handing me the suit. "Other than that, you're free to do what you want."
What was with these people and warning me about being "inappropriate"? What did they think I was going to do? Take a leak in front of the bleachers or offer crack to the kids?
Despite the fact that they both felt the need to caution me about being on my best behavior, I thought I'd make a pretty darn good mascot. I am athletic, energetic and have a magnetic personality. I am a big bundle of fun wrapped up in a small bundle of Asian love.
Warnings duly digested, I was ready to go.
The smell
It wouldn't be all fun and games, though.
I should have realized something was up when Kinder told me, "Enjoy the stench!"
Enjoy the stench? Was she talking about the smell of the opposing team when we defeated them? It didn't take long for me to find out exactly what she meant, though.
"Holy crap!" I exclaimed upon opening the suit bag. "It smells like a rat crawled up Big Foot's butt and died!"
So there were some downsides. Another thing that Kinder neglected to mention is that there is a back zipper to the suit.
You all know the scene in the movie when the actress gets her husband/boyfriend/Latin lover to zip her up? Well, switch out Nicole Kidman for me and trade the sleek, painted-on black dress for a big furry Tiger suit. Not quite the image you want to flash through your eyes before you fall asleep tonight.
Picture this scene, if you will. You're outside of Scully at 6:45 p.m. on a Wednesday night. You're on your cell phone talking to your mother or significant other. All of a sudden, the smell of a rotting corpse mixed with sulfur and sewage waste burns the hair off your nostrils. You turn around expecting to fight off the living dead and instead see a Tiger gesturing to his backside. Apparently, he wants you to zip him up.
The big moment
Walking toward Lourie-Love Field in the dark gave me plenty of time to practice my crazy dances and gymnastics ability, which amounts to a forward sitting roll. Unfortunately, the bulkiness of the headpiece prevented me from doing this without rolling to one side or the other.
"Oh well," I thought. "Nobody will care that much as long as I make up for it with enthusiasm."
Boy, was I wrong.
"It's the Tiger!"
"Alright! Do a cartwheel!"
"Do a handstand!"
"Do a backflip!"
"Do a roundoff, back handspring with an aerial half twist roll back tuck!"
I still had time to run. If I had left right then, I could have left and completely reshaped the rest of my life. But I didn't. Instead, I took a deep breath, gave two thumbs-ups and gave the sadistic crowd what they wanted.
CRASH!
Which about brings us to where we started.
Expecting scorn and disappointment at the very least and preparing myself for torches and baseball bats at the most, I faced the crowd.
"Yeah Tiger!"
"You're awesome!"
"Do it again!"
I couldn't believe it. They didn't hate me. They liked me — they really liked me!
On cloud nine
The rest of the game went by in a blur, due in part, perhaps, to the possible concussion I sustained when the crowd of ball girls tackled me at halftime. I was on cloud nine.
Half mime, half clown and total goofball is what the crowd wanted — and got — that evening. The soccer players waved at me from the field. The kids in the stands got so many high-fives and hugs that night my hands could barely hold a pen the next day. The old men patted me on the back. The old ladies chatted with me and confided their darkest secrets. (Not going to lie, it was a little scary.)
The women's soccer team defeated Rider, 4-0, but there was one more Tiger that night who walked away from the field feeling like a winner.
In the words of Kinder: "Who doesn't love a mascot?"
It was strange. Suddenly, all of the things that I couldn't and wouldn't do before, I could finally do. I could cheer without fearing that the person next to me would think I was being annoying. I could throw up my hands when we made a good play and not worry about getting a soda dumped on my head. I could wave and smile and give a thumbs-up to everyone and they wouldn't think I was weird. It was liberating. It was exhilarating. Most importantly, it was fun.
If you ever decide to become a mascot, my suggestion is this: Start out with a backflip. The fur straitjacket will break the fall. Then get up and do a funky dance. Do the chicken or a shuffling Charlie Brown dance. Be that crazy uncle at the wedding who nobody knows. After that, your fears will be gone. You'll be invincible. You'll be ... a mascot.
Mascots aren't extra-peppy, superhuman beings. They're just uninhibited fans. They embody everything that every fan wants to be but can't quite accomplish because of shyness or embarrassment. It might sound sappy, but they are our best selves.
I don't know much. But I do know that, even if I'm not wearing a mask, the next time I'm cheering on Princeton, I'll still be a Tiger through and through.
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24 hours in the Princeton University Art Museum
Daily Princetonian StaffThe ‘Prince’ staff spent 24 hours in the Princeton University Art Museum at the grand reopening on Oct. 31. Beginning at 5 p.m., the event lasted until 5 p.m. on Nov. 1.
The ‘Prince’ staff spent 24 hours in the Princeton University Art Museum at the grand reopening on Oct. 31. Beginning at 5 p.m., the event lasted until 5 p.m. on Nov. 1.
Special Issue: The Princeton University Art Museum
Daily Princetonian StaffIn this first-of-its-kind magazine from The Daily Princetonian, you’ll find reviews of each of the pavilions, the hallways and transition spaces, and the new Mosaic restaurant, and bundles of illuminating photos. To bring you this issue, our reporters spoke to curators, tried $13 matcha, and stayed in the art museum for every moment of its 24-hour opening.
In this first-of-its-kind magazine from The Daily Princetonian, you’ll find reviews of each of the pavilions, the hallways and transition spaces, and the new Mosaic restaurant, and bundles of illuminating photos. To bring you this issue, our reporters spoke to curators, tried $13 matcha, and stayed in the art museum for every moment of its 24-hour opening.
American art pavilion sparks dialogue on America’s past and future
Caroline NaughtonContributing writer for The Prospect Caroline Naughton covers the American Art pavilion in the Princeton University Art Museum’s brand new space.
Contributing writer for The Prospect Caroline Naughton covers the American Art pavilion in the Princeton University Art Museum’s brand new space.