Musing Mascots in Costumed Contemplation
For mascots, there’s no escaping the spotlight. These mute yet endlessly expressive characters are the center of attention everywhere they go, and as a result they always need to be “on.” Pictures are requested, high fives demanded, and antics expected. It’s an exhilarating existence, to be sure, but not at all conducive to moments of quiet reflection and self-analysis.
Yet such moments, while rare, do occur. To capture them on camera is an exhilarating feeling, akin to a landlocked bird watcher getting an glimpse of the elusive Red Phalarope. This is how I felt during a June trip to Lake County, when I was able to capture Captains mascot Skipper in a moment of introspection.
Feeling inspired by this rare bit of photographic luck, I asked readers to please send in introspective mascot photos of their own. This request was met with an enthusiastic response, and the results are contained in this post.
What follows is the most impressive collection of introspective mascot photos that the world has ever seen.
The above individual is Louie of the Great Lakes Loons, whose powers of introspection are far greater than the average bird. Soon after abandoning his dugout perch, he went into the stands and got the fans to join him in a moment of quiet contemplation.
Another city boasting thoughtful birds amongst its citizenry is Toledo. Muddy the Mud Hen is a voracious reader, and can sometimes be spotted at the local library with his beak buried in a good book.
Muddy’s literary endeavors have increased his powers of imagination. Back at the ballpark, he sometimes gets lost in thought while resting his left arm on a railing that doesn’t even exist.
As evidenced by the picture of Skipper at the top of this post, ballpark tunnels represent a good place for a mascot to temporarily escape from the madding crowd. Here’s Phinley of the Clearwater Threshers, patriotically pontificating.
Meanwhile, in Winston-Salem, Bolt takes a moment to reflect before instigating some between-inning hula-baloo.
They say lightning doesn’t strike twice, but I was able to get a shot of Bolt during my visit to Winston-Salem this past July. This one is perhaps less “introspective” than “fatigued.”
While in Winston-Salem, I spent time with not one but TWO blog readers who went on to email me introspective mascot photos. Matt “Possum” Campbell solicited this shot of the Danville Braves’ “Blooper,” who does his best thinking with left hand planted firmly on stomach.
Meanwhile, veteran Minor League wanderer Rex Doane sent in pictures from various far-flung locales. Our journey with Rex begins in Norfolk, where Rip Tide sometimes assumes a near-beatific demeanor.
Then we fly over to flyover country, with this behind-the-back view of Swoop of the South Bend Silver Hawks.
And, finally, we arrive in the modest environs of the Modesto Nuts’ dugout. That’s where Al Almond sometimes goes in order to escape from the nuttiness surrounding him.
Another thoughtful dugout denizen is Fort Wayne’s Johnny TinCap, whose demeanor is never crotchety even if his hobbies sometimes are.
Of course, one doesn’t need to be solitary to be introspective. Over the three seasons that the team has been in existence, Chopper of the Gwinnett Braves has established himself as one of the most empathetic woodchucks in the Minors. Here he is having an on-field heart-to-heart.
Chopper’s upright demeanor is in stark contrast to Millie of the Lowell Spinners. On the last day of the season, this canal-dwelling alligator went deep into her own headspace while sitting on a stadium bench.
Allie’s daughter, Millie, simply curled up in the fetal position in order to think long and hard about the season that had just transpired.
With this concept on the verge of collapse, it seems that I’ll have to call it a day. Of course, keeping sending those introspective mascot photos in. I am totally amenable to there being a second, third, fourth, and even fifth installment of this series.
There will be no sixth installment.
On the Road: Checking Out the Purple Pros in Winston-Salem
The seventh and final stop on my most recent road trip was the hyphenated community of Winston-Salem, home of the hyphen-referencing “Dash.” The club is in its second season in the western downtown environs of BB&T Ballpark, after previously competing as the “Warthogs” in the far more rustic Ernie Shore Ballpark.
When it comes to stadium footprints, BB&T Ballpark is the Godzilla of the Carolina League. Featuring a stately (and somewhat imposing) brick exterior, 360-degree concourse, downtown views, and location right off of bustling business route 40, this is a stadium that makes its presence known.
Following standard operating procedure, I began my time at the stadium by conducting a couple of player interviews. This time around it was Garrett Johnson and Austin Yount. Despite being a 6’10” left-hander, Garrett is not related to Randy Johnson. Austin, meanwhile, is Robin Yount’s nephew.
While waiting for the players to finish their pre-game warm-ups, I got a few shots of the on-field scene.
That’s Yount seen above — but I did not need special media access to take that particular photo. I was actually in the Dugout Suite seating area at the time, where a railing is all that separates the players and the fans.
A few more shots taken from that section:
But here I am getting ahead of myself already.
My time in the Dugout Suites was part of an extensive ballpark tour, provided by Dash “Creative Services Manager” Caleb Pardick (who does a great job with the team’s Twitter feed — a lot of teams could learn from it). I met with Pardick in his control room lair, populated by a technically-inclided array of button pushers, announcement makers, and volume modulators.
Mr. Kaze is blocking the soundboard operator in the above picture, but next to him is the P.A. announcer, line score operator (in charge of updating runs, hits, errors), scoreboard graphic operator, and stats updater (these may not be the offical job titles). To the far right is the director, coordinating it all.
The control room is like the press box, in that it is located on the concourse and fully visible to fans. In fact, the press box also includes a group seating area fittingly called the “Press Box Suite.” I’d never seen such a thing.
Another private (but far more expansive) group seating area is the Blue Rhino Backyard, which provides intimate field access as well as a separate concession area.
As for concessions — I ended up forgoing them at this particular game. My routine got thrown off that day, and I had a very late lunch (at the excellent Bib’s BBQ, more on that in a future post). Several of the stands offered three points of sale as a way to ease concourse overcrowding.
Out past right-center field is the team store, a stopgap structure that will eventually be replaced by the six-story “One Ballpark Center” (which will also house the team’s front offices, among other entities).
Moving toward center, there’s a kid’s area featuring a carousel brought over from Ernie Shore Field.
In left, there’s an outfield bar area open to all fans.
The left field scoreboard seen above is truly impressive, a nice complement to the main attraction.
That’s not a poorly-framed photo of Mr. Ciolli. The player introductions featured video accompaniment, and he was just about to move into the center of the screen and initiate determined eye contact with the assembled masses. (The introduction music was AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck”, with the words “Winston (pause) Salem” in place of the original’s dramatic repetition of “Thunder.”)
Said masses were soon told to rise and remove their hats.
With the game underway, Pardick and I visited the bustling “Womble Carlyle Club” (named after a local law firm). It was pretty nice up here, with an all-you-can-eat buffet and nice views of the field via a multi-tiered outdoor seating area.
The high-quality scoreboard made it easy to document between-inning promotions, no matter where in the stadium I happened to be.
The best part of the above “robot cam” was the PA announcer’s robot-voiced improvisations. Over the above shot he intoned “Not bad for a human supervising children.”
The ballpark tour was followed by an inning or two in which I sat with team president Geoff Lassiter, and some of that conversation is chronicled HERE. After that I did a final lap around the facility as the sun slowly set on Winston-Salem.
My final task was to find loyal blog reader Matt Campbell (Possum187 in the comments), who had informed me that he and his family would be in attendance at the game. After failing to locate him in my wanderings, I asked the PA announcer to please page “Matt ‘The Possum’ Campbell. He did so enthusiastically.
And that did the trick. Matt soon appeared at the guest services booth, as instructed, and I spent the final two innings with him and his lovely family.
And from that vantage point, I saw the home team emerge victorious.
Followed by a post-game launch-a-ball — including outfield targets!
Afterwards Bolt signed autographs…
until he collapsed from exhaustion.
I’m fairly close to exhaustion myself these days, but let the blogging continue! The next day my flight back to NYC wasn’t until 5, and the Dash happened to be playing a noon game. So out into the blazing heat I went, this time in “fan mode” (I even paid for parking).
Sweet tea and boiled peanuts — the breakfast of champions!
The best player fact I have ever seen on a scoreboard:
I watched this game with Rex and Coco Doane, NYC residents and veteran Minor League travelers deep into their own Carolinas-based road trip.
I say it constantly, but I very much enjoy corresponding with and meeting readers. This can be a lonely job, and often it’s easy to assume that “no one is reading”, but going on the road serves as proof positive that this is indeed not the case. It’s a tremendously gratifying feeling.
It was also gratifying that this particular ballgame moved along at a fairly rapid clip, as I was sweating profusely in our prime dugout seats.
And with dugout seats comes dugout dancing.
One member of this promo crew, “The Shelbinator,” was inundated with autograph requests from the largely school-age crowd.
As the Shelbinator basked in her celebrity, the Dash disposed of the visiting Kinston Indians. And not even the scorching heat could keep them from getting quite intimate during the post-game high-fives.
After the game I was exhausted — it had been a LONG eight days on the road.
In need of a shower, shave, and haircut…bloated and sunburnt…wearing a t-shirt given to me by a team (Charleston RiverDogs’ Big Lebowski-themed “The Dog Abides”)….clearly it was time to go home.
I then proceeded to get in the car and drive out out of the parking lot, and it wasn’t until turning onto Route 40 that I realized that the driver’s side rear door was open. This was my dumbest road trip driving error since Lakewood, and a clear reminder that it was time for me to get back to NYC. You can’t make a dumb driving error if you don’t have a car.
There’ll be more “supplementary content” to come from the Carolinas, when time allows. Consider it the dessert to the main course which is now, mercifully, complete. Thanks for reading, and stay tuned…