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Mascot Blues
🕑 Added 2020-09-02 14:02:07 +0000 UTC
The trouble with Todd started when my cousin Jenny Parsons introduced us at a Harbordale WCIL baseball game where I was working as the team mascot, the Harbordale Blue-Greenie. I was supposed to be an otter, though what otter ever had blue and green fur, I don’t know, but the team name was The Blue-Greens after the water in the bay, I suppose.
I was sitting at a table in the stadium employee lounge, getting hydrated before a game when Jenny came in trailing this big, blond guy who actually looked like he might be a ballplayer, though not one of the Blue-Greens, or I would have known who he was.
“Hey, Stevie,” she called. “I brought a date. Todd, my cousin Stevie Kavanaugh, Stevie, Todd Emory.” Jenny was a bright, perky brunette, the sort that seemed common in our Black Irish lineage. She had a nickname for everyone she knew and giggled a lot.
I’ve never really liked the nickname Stevie, but it had been a losing battle with my family; Jenny wasn’t the only one who shortened Stephan to Stevie. I was in costume but had my head sitting on the table in front of me. If I have the head on, everyone is supposed to call me BeeGee. “Hey, Jen,” I called back. “Hey, Todd. How’d you get stuck dating my married cousin?”
He laughed. “It’s not a real date. I just gave her a ride. I work with Geo at the bank. He had to stay late to count bent staples or something.” George was Jenny’s husband, an assistant manager at a local bank.
“But doesn’t he make the perfect date, Stevie?” Jenny cooed. “I mean, just look at him!” She grabbed his upper arm and tried to wrap both hands around his bicep, but was defeated when he flexed slightly. They both laughed.
I shook my head with my own shaggy black hair and went back to my hydration routine. I made it a habit to load up with PowerAde before going out to the field. It’s never very hot in Harbordale with the Pacific Ocean on our doorstep, but even with a weather prediction of the low seventies, it can get thirsty running around in a polyester costume with a plastic head.
“Stevie,” said Todd, grinning at me. “So you’re the new team mascot? What happened to Phyllis?” Phyllis Wembley had been the original Blue-Greenie, her weekday job had been as a girls’ P.E. teacher at the local high school. He must have had some connection to the team to know Phyllis’s name.
“She retired after getting beaned by one of the kids pitching in the seventh-inning stretch,” I explained. “Her head came off, and everyone saw she was this gray-haired lady. The kids were all traumatized. Post Disney Trauma Syndrome and all.”
Jen snickered, and Todd laughed more than telling of the story deserved, but I didn’t want to take time to do the whole build-up since I had to go start my pre-game show in five minutes.
“How did you get the job?” he asked, moving close enough to sort of loom over me.
“Mrs. Wembley picked me, mostly I think because I said I would do it and I fit in the costume. She knew me from cheer squad back in high school; she was our assistant coach.”
He sat down across the table from me, which was way better than him towering above me where I had to crane my neck to look up. “So, you were a cheerleader?”
“Uh, huh,” I said. I wouldn’t say I liked being teased about it. Being smaller than several of the girls, I was the only boy flyer in our league.
“Must have been after I graduated,” he said, smiling. “I don’t remember a cute brunette on the squad. Would you like to go somewhere after the game? Out for pizza or something?”
Was he hitting on me because he thought I was a girl? Or was Jen trying to set me up with some gay guy? Most of my family thought I must be gay because I didn’t date girls. But I didn’t date guys either. Todd didn’t look gay, but what do I know?
I stared at him for a moment, drained the last of my PowerAde and stood up. “I gotta go start my show.” I picked up my head, inserted my earbuds, put the helmet part on, pulled the mask down over my face and began tying the three laces that kept it all in place. “Jen,” I said quietly into the built-in Wi-Fi microphone. “Sound test.”
She dashed over from where she had been looking at the cooler full of wrapped sandwiches that the local Quincy’s Subs had donated for the team. “BeeGee!” she said into her phone, following protocol by using my character name. “Can you hear me?” Jen is my spotter, keeping an eye on me while I’m in costume because I have limited vision through my mask.
I shook my paw in a surfer’s okay sign. “Too-bular,” I crooned, and she giggled. “Go up top and mike the crowd,” I whispered into my helmet. I don’t talk much when my head is in place and never with a full voice. I don’t need to with the built-in sound system, and the earbuds did a great job of letting me hear both the crowd around me and Jen.
“Gotcha,” she agreed, setting off for the stairs up to the broadcast booth where she could get a good view of the size and sort of audience we would have tonight. We say “mike the crowd” instead of count or measure, but I’m not sure why. I guess because it is more of a feeling than just a number — which we’ll get a gate report by the third inning, anyway.
I waited for Jenny in the tunnel leading from the internal offices and the lounge to the Blue-Green Marina Stadium seats. In the distance, I could see the California Coast Range, blue enough for anyone. Nearer, Palm Avenue, with its lining of California Palms, led people from the city center to our parking lot. Judging from the number of late arrivals, we already had a pretty good crowd in the stands.
Late July was almost the perfect time for baseball, the clouds and fogs of May and June had been burned away, and the central coast did a lot to prove California’s title as The Golden State. It was Saturday, so the first pitch was scheduled for 2:05 p.m., and I always loved the early starts at this time of summer. Major league games usually start at seven, even on weekends, which is way too late.
Jenny’s voice came in loud and clear. “Large, happy bunch, today, BeeGee. Looks like four large family groups in the BBQ area in right field and three busloads of kids in the left field bleachers.” We have the best stadium in the West Coast Independent League; it’s modeled after the one in Cucamonga for the Class A Quakes, but not as wide.
I could hear Jen coming down the stairs behind me. “Guys in the booth said you should break a leg.” The field announcer and a sportscaster from the local radio station sat in a glass booth high up above the stands, and sometimes they had guests or visiting VIPs.
Jen went ahead of me to clear the path for my entrance, and I took the plastic rod that controlled my eyelashes in my teeth. Grabbing it with my lips, I did a couple of practice blinks. With practice, I had even learned how to wink one eye, then the other.
Seeing Jen on the field, the announcer did his job. “Ladies and Gentleman and Children of All Ages! Our Very Own Mascot, the Lovely and Talented, Miss BeeGee, the Blue Greenie! Let’s all give her a Big Hand and a Welcome Cheer!” I grabbed my boogie board prop and waited for the noise to build.
I tried not to worry about Todd, or Jen’s probable matchmaking. I had a job to do and a show to put on. But he’d asked me out, and I hadn’t given him a yes or no. What must he think? Stevie, you moron, I told myself, he either thinks you’re a girl or that you’re gay. And you aren’t either one. And yes, I call myself Stevie, too.
It all went through my mind in an instant, just as the crowd broke into applause and loud hurrays. That was my cue, so I did a triple cartwheel and a forward twist-and-roll to land on my feet, on my board, by the on-deck circle.
I bounced up and down like the gigantic hyperactive weasel I was supposed to be. I pushed my control rod around with lips and tongue to blink my long eyelashes and move my plastic eyes while waving at the crowd with my front paws. Then I did a handstand on the board to wave with my back ones.
Showtime!
*
Comments
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
Thanks. And thanks to Stevie and what's-his-name.
Kestril
I concur with Michael. Great set-up
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
It's unanimous. :)
Shadowsmage
Very cute I like this one too
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
I have ideas of where this could go. :)
Michael Maor
Very nice. I really like misunderstanding stories, and this one starts very believably. Also nice image
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
Thanks, hon. :)
Darlyne
More please Erin this sounds like an interesting story
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
Hee, hee. Cute, huh? :)
Ralf Döblitz
Oh yes, that begs for a lot more chapters. :-)
Glenda Ericsson
Love the mascot image!
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
This story insisted on being written ahead of other things I'm working on, so it's getting posted instead of the thing that didn't get written. I found the pic online and it's kinda cute. :) Is there more to the story of Stevie and Todd? I dunno. What do you guys think?
