I found it interesting recently that a woman from Pennsylvania is suing the Phillie Phanatic for injuries she sustained when he picked her up and threw her into a swimming pool; deck chair and all. She claims that he tossed her into the shallow end of the pool causing back and neck problems.
Read about that here. http://content.usatoday.com/communities/dailypitch/post/2012/06/phillie-phanatic-sued-/1
Let me say that I HATE sports/team mascots; particularly the ones whose faces are completely hidden. You name them…I hate them. I find them more of a distraction from the sporting event than any entertainment. But there is something creepy about not being able to see who is really inside that suit. Heck, I am not that thrilled with Mickey Mouse at Disneyland or Disney World.
I am sure you have heard of the “six degrees of separation”. If not, it is the theory that any two people can be linked together through a maximum of six other people. (It would be a fun experiment to try this with your Facebook friends.) Because of my career as a minor league baseball announcer I am actually only one degree separated from the San Diego, World Famous (whatever he is calling himself these days) Chicken and quite literally had to be separated from our buddy the Phillie Phanatic!
During my years with the Birmingham Barons the Chicken performed during a Barons game at Old Rickwood Field. After the game he and his assistant bummed a ride from me back to his hotel. Despite making $4000-$6000 for the night, he was too cheap to rent a car or call a cab. After a long ball game (these clowns add 20 minutes to the length of the game) I was ready to go home. But “The Chicken” lingered in the clubhouse…taking his time showering and watching Letterman on the TV while his assistant and I loaded up the back of my station wagon with his trunks of costumes and props.
When “his Highness” was ready we finally were able to depart. The trip was made in virtual silence and when we arrived at the hotel “The Chicken” did not bother to help unload the trunks; leaving that to his assistant and me. And here’s the kicker. He never said “thank you”, “I appreciate it”, “kiss my foot” or anything! This was just the beginning of my hatred for mascots.
A few years later while broadcasting a Samford University basketball game my wife is bringing my very young daughter at the time through the lobby of Seibert Hall. One of the corporate sponsors for Samford was Little Caesar’s Pizza. Well, they have this guy/gal dressed up like Little Caesar or Baby Pan-Pan and “it” jumps out from behind a pillar and scares the bejezuz out of my daughter. She has never liked masked characters since! It is a good thing I didn’t find out about this until after the fact.
Ahh…but that is what brings me to my less than one degree of separation from our old buddy , The Phillie Phanatic. It was a Friday night in August 1992. I was out of baseball and had been a teacher for, oh…about two weeks. A friend from out of town was visiting and we decided to take the whole family to the Barons game. It was a double-header and we arrived just as the first game was ending.
(Side note to this story: While driving to the game we heard on the radio that a cheerleader from a local high school had been killed when her head struck a light pole while she had her head out the school bus window on the way to a football game. They were still in the parking lot when it happened. This was very somber and sad news and we discussed how quickly something like that can happen.)
Okay, back to my story. We were seated in the box seats behind the third base dugout. Having seen as many baseball games as I have, I am terribly aware of just how rapidly a late swing can shoot a baseball into the stands. Someone on the third base side must be particularly alert when a left-handed batter is up and vice versa. During the final moments of that first game I kept reminding all the kids around us and their parents to pay attention.
Not only was this night a doubleheader, it was Phillie Phanatic night! As soon as the game was over he pops out of the third base dugout and begins to “entertain”. The entire night felt surreal to me. There was a giveaway on the field and the woman who won was invited to home plate. There she and her two young children were greeted by the Phanatic and his Four-Wheeler. He coaxes the mom to get on for a ride and he takes her all the way out to the warning track in center field. He has her get off, takes her picture and then hops on the bike and leaves her 400 feet away from her kids who are at home plate.
The cat and mouse game starts then. She begins walking toward her children and he acts like he is coming back to get her. Ha ha…nice joke. But when she stops, thinking he is coming to get her, he stops the bike. This goes on for several seconds. In the meantime, the little kids are getting upset… so much so that the dad comes onto the field to get them. Finally, the mom is allowed to get back on the bike and is delivered to home plate, her children and her annoyed husband.
But wait. It gets worse. During this time my kids and some other kids we know move down to the first row behind the dugout. Hey… we are 20 minutes away from the start of the second game. No foul balls to contend with, right. No problem.
But the Phanatic is back! He decides to tease the kids above the dugout with a baseball; making them think he is going to throw one into the stands. He walks out to the coaching box and goes through an exaggerated wind-up and rears back and lets it fly…I mean it is sailing. Now the idea of the routine is that he has one of the players in the dugout ready to catch the ball and fake the kids out. But this time the ball slips out of his costume covered hand and it is headed right for the nose of my four year old daughter. Luckily one of our friend’s son brought his glove to the game. He literally dives over two empty seats to catch this ball…the force of the throw pushing the glove into my daughter’s face!
That is when the Phanatic and I got up close in personal. He knew this stunt had gone horribly wrong and I knew I was about to kick some mascot butt. The next thing I know I am standing on top of the third base dugout with my left hand on the throat of this idiot and my right hand cocked and ready to put his lights out. The thing that was as annoying as anything was he was making is appear to be all part of the act. Finally, after calling him some things I cannot put in a family blog I kind of shoved him away from me and walked away…to the cheers and jeers of some of the fans.
Remember we had just learned of the death of a young lady hours before from a freak accident and I could see the possible consequences of this freak show. I was drained. I felt sick from the fight or flight rush of adrenaline that had coursed through my body. I was shaking like a leaf. Talk about an adrenaline flush!
That was 20 years ago and it still quickens my pulse each time I retell the story. So you can see, I am not much a fan of the mascot…any mascot that hides under a mask. Baby Pan-Pan, The Chicken, The Phillie Phanatic, Fredbird, Babe Ruff or Mickey and Minnie Mouse. To me it gives opportunity for a moron to do idiotic stunts while never having to reveal his/her true identity. (There was the night at Rickwood Field where Wicki Wood moon walked and fell off the top of the Barons dugout; now that was entertainment!)
It should be noted that the guy who was inside the Phanatic suit during our close encounter has retired and there are two new men that have taken over the act. Apparently he trained them successfully to be idiots underneath that silly green outfit too. If there's merit, I hope the lady wins her lawsuit.
As for the next degree of separation? I say off with their heads!
Thanks for reading!
Jeff
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