Summer of Auggie Ends

 I was tackled by a sausage. Is that really a response a grown man should give about his work?

Photos courtesy of the Augusta Grenjackets

 Whether it is or isn’t, during the spring and summer of 2010 that was one of the varied comments I would utter after nights spent as Auggie, the Augusta (GA) Greenjackets’ mascot.

 Being a mascot to a minor league baseball team, I assumed it would be a nightly gig during homestands. Thank God it wasn’t!

 I mean what was I thinking? Well, I was thinking it would be nice to have a job, it would be great to be a part of the team - especially one owned by my boyhood hero and Hall-of-Famer Cal Ripken, Jr. – and how hard could it be?

 What I didn’t think about was spending three to four hours a night in 90-degree weather dressed essentially in a baseball uniform over fur pants and a fur sweatshirt while wearing a 10-pound bee’s head. I now have greater appreciation for why my dog Bo looks at me funny when I ask him if he wants to go out for a walk in the middle of the Georgia heat. I had donned the Bulldogs costume on occasion as part of job as Sports Information Director at Bowie State University years ago and I didn’t remember it being so hard. Of course there is a sea of difference between being 30-years-old and 43.

Firing in a first pitch on Auggie's birthday. Low and outside.

 Three people auditioned for two mascot positions and I think what put me over the top was the staff overlooking my obvious lack of coordinated dance skills and that the third person was too short to wear the outfit.
 My first night on the job I was excited to interact with the crowd, and be part of an on-field promotion, even if it was just to race a child, and I’ll get back to that. By the end of the night I was exhausted and my back was so stiff I barely moved the next day. I blame the back problem on literally standing too many watches during my time in the Navy, but that’s just one of my many different theories.
 Weekends when I would work two days in a row became the worst. Never for the actual work, but once again just for the costume as I’m a sweater by trade. When I worked for a moving company in college, more often than not I would be taken off moving couches because my boss didn’t want me to drip all over it. After a night of being in the Greenjacket outfit, the next day it was a sweat-drenched, stinking mess and that was to start the day. Ugh. Of course it usually only took about two hours on any night before I would hear two familiar questions/comments from kids in the ballpark, “Auggie, why are you so wet,” and “Auggie, why do you stink?”
 After a while I had to beg off two nights in a row as it would drain me of energy for the whole next week. I did get smarter during the season as I would load up on Tylenol before the game, during the game and after the game. Sort of my over-the-counter performance-enhancing drugs.
 I would like to think I gave it my all. I called in sick just once, early in the season, and it was one of my best decisions to date as the game went 18 innings. The night I was tackled by a sausage, I was coming off a week with a fever so bad I would have to sleep on a towel to avoid drenching the sheets. It was Military Appreciation Night, one of the great promotions the Greenjackets have throughout the year, and I was the finish line for the race between a trio of servicemembers from nearby Fort Gordon. Rather than slap my hand, the winner, dressed as a sausage, decided to go through me. I suppose I could have avoided him but I hoped the tackle would be better theater. He got his, though, as he was soon plowed over by the hamburger.Pretty sure there may have been some alohol involved.
 I’m a pretty competitive person and one of the standard on-field promotions was the mascot race where Auggie starts at second base and heads to home around third base while a youngster does the same via first base. I always wanted to win but never could. The Washington Generals had more luck against the Globetrotters.

 August is gone as is my summer of Auggie. Many thanks to the Greenjackets for allowing me to do it and for realizing I don’t ever want to do it again.