“In our hour of victory! U (clap, clap, clap), C (clap, clap, clap), I (clap, clap, clap), Zot! / U, C, I, Zot! Fight! Fight! Fight!”
– from the University of California, Irvine fight song
“Mules are sterile! (Clap! Clap! Clap-clap-clap)!”
– Bowdoin student section chant
The first period comes to an end and the hockey players for both teams skate off the ice. The Zamboni sluggishly comes out of its den and I close my eyes, nod off, and dream I am having a sleepover with college mascots.
As my guests arrive, I direct them to my basement, because it is the only place in my house that can fit all of us. Granted, the Amherst Mammoth is a tight squeeze. As the Mammoth heads downstairs, it confides it has been looking forward to talking to Jumbo, the elephant from Tufts, about the evolutionary timeline. I encourage the Mammoth and Jumbo to help themselves to cases and cases of peanuts I have purchased for the occasion.
Speaking of peanuts, like any good host, I ask each mascot whether there are any allergy concerns I should be made aware of. The Bates Bobcat reminds me that it only eats meat. As it says this, it casts a quick look over at the Trinity Bantam and the Wesleyan Cardinal, who are laying out their sleeping bags. The Middlebury Panther and the Bowdoin Polar Bear agree that raw meat would be a welcome midnight snack. Coincidentally, they each request to sleep next to the Colby Mule.
I offer a generous amount of hay to Ephelia, the Purple Cow from Williams College, and the Mule. The Camel from Connecticut College politely declines to eat and tells me it is practicing intermittent fasting.
A heavy rain starts to patter against the house and the wind blows. The lights flicker and I try to remember whether the flashlights I own have fresh batteries. It looks like the University of New England Nor’Easter mascot has arrived. Soon after, the University of Southern Maine Husky and the University of Maine at Orono Black Bear breeze in. Each is soaked to the fur. They wiggle and shake the rain off their bodies.
“May I have a towel?” the Bantam asks.
Upon seeing the Bantam, the Black Bear says, “Yum!”
The Bantam casts a quizzical look at the Black Bear, but the Black Bear is no longer staring at the Bantam. He says, as if to provide cover for his previous comment, “Look at all the peanuts!”
I then explain why I have brought us all together. It is to discuss what makes the best mascot choice.
“Should the mascot be a familiar fixture of the locale — like the Nor’Easter and the Black Bear? Or should it represent toughness and fierceness, like the Panther? Is anything game?” I ask.
“Bantams are game,” says the Panther, licking his lips.
“I think a mascot should at least be able to breed,” the Polar Bear says, nodding in the direction of the Mule.
Politely ignoring him, I bring up the mascot for the University of California, Irvine.
“It’s an anteater,” I tell them. “And supposedly when it eats ants, it makes a ‘Zot!’ sound. Let’s pretend we are wild about the Irvine Anteaters and yell ‘Zot! Zot! Zot!’ all together.”
So we all do the “Zot!” cheer — or at least we attempt to, because what I actually hear is a cacophony of barking, cock-a-doodle-doo-ing, hee-hawing, chirping, roaring, gusting, mooing, trumpeting and grunting.
A feeling of unease settles over me as we prepare to get ready for bed. I secretly pass a $50 bill to the mascot from Hamilton College. The Continental Soldier has agreed, for a fee, to stand watch for the night and make sure no one is eaten.
