Be A Hero, Tackle That Mascot

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Nice Move


As you lord over your tailgate spot with a cold Natty in hand and AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” blasting at an earsplitting volume, you see him. At every home game this dick head is gesturing wildly with his giant head and generic jersey while taking pictures with small children and trying to high five every girl he passes. His permanent smile and unbroken cheerfulness has annoyed you for the last three to five seasons, but today is different. Your three shower-beers were just the tip of your drinking iceberg so, as the music rises in the background, you start running.

“I was shaking at the knees…”


“Could I come again please…”

His back is turned. This is your moment.

“Yeah them ladies were too kind…”

The face of the eight year old posing with your nemesis shifts from joy to terror.

“You’ve been…”

He turns around. You break down and spring forward.


As Angus Young’s legendary guitar rings out, you make contact. The crowd goes wild. Congratulations, you’re a hero.

For too long those glorified furries have had a wildly unfounded superiority complex. Their stupid dancing and attempts to get fans “in the game” is more aggravating than watching Notre Dame’s secondary make Touchdown Jesus question the existence of God. 

Football is a game of passion over pageantry, and mascots only represent the latter. Unless Bucky the Badger is dropping gloves with Brutus Buckeye, they’re just a waste of time and funding. While some athletic departments have the common sense to go out and find live mascots who occasionally attack referees, others stick with those assholes in goofy suits. Pathetic plush cosplayers are an affront to the rock and roll nature of your football program and it’s time to take them down a peg.
Nothing says “our school is the best” like tackling a mascot. It’s the exclamation point that punctuates any great tailgate. Just won a shotgun race? Tackle a mascot. Scored free food from the tent next door? Tackle a mascot. Dance floor OTPHJ? You know the drill. It’s not like you’re hurting anyone. The thick material those likely perverts are hiding in will cushion them from any serious injury, and the mass of people in any given lot is perfect for disappearing into. The stadium cops don’t really give a shit anyway. They’re too busy trying to get the boners across the way to pick up their trash. Chances are a good smackdown on your resident clown will brighten up their day as much as it does yours. Physical comedy is everyone’s cup of tea.

This is your chance to establish a tradition. You didn’t start on JV just to waste those talents, after all. Turn The Grove into a gridiron. Make Howard’s Rock your rallying cry to rock some face. Week in and week out, that mascot will have his head on a swivel. He won’t be sure where it’s coming from, but he’ll know that it’s coming. If you are as dedicated to team success as that embroidered button down claims, you’ll do the right thing. 

Tackle that mascot and become a legend.

Karl Karlson is TFM's self-proclaimed cartoon expert and your best buddy. He resides in the mountains of NC where he wrestles black bears and attempts to grow a beard. Karl gave up liquor following an unfortunate incident involving tequila and a vacuum cleaner, but he isn't above a nice stout on the porch.

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