Mackenzie Barnes has been a cheerleader since she was 10, so she’s used to being in front of crowds and getting fans excited for games. But last year, when Mackenzie, who is 15, became the mascot for her high school in Lancaster, Ohio, the job of making people cheer took on a new twist. Now, people are yelling her name.
Well … sort of. “Everyone is like, ‘Go see Gusto!’” Mackenzie says.
From high school sports to college programs to professional teams, mascots play a key role, bringing spectators into the fold of games. “A mascot gives the opportunity for connection,” says Jerome Bartlett, a mascot trainer and consultant who is based in Texas. “The purpose is to serve as a bridge between the fans in the stands and the players on the field, court,or ice.”
It’s hard work. But for the students who play school mascots, it’s also just … fun. “Being a mascot is like being a celebrity,” Bartlett says. “Everyone wants to see you. They are happy to see you. They want to take a photo with you and engage with you.”
To get a view from inside the foam heads, The New York Times for Kids tagged along with three high school mascots from around the United States on game day. Here’s what they had to say about the job.
Buster the Bulldog
Jayden Youngblood, 15
Bowie High School, Austin, Texas
Jayden Youngblood takes playing Buster the Bulldog seriously. He watches TikToks of college mascots and goes to games to get ideas for dance moves and skits that he can do on the sidelines. Last summer, he even went to a mascot camp to learn insider tricks, like how to clean a sweat-soaked fuzzy costume. (He throws his suit into the washing machine and hangs it up to dry, but Buster’s foam head and feet need to be cleaned by hand.)
Sure, it’s a lot of prep. Being a mascot is harder than it looks — especially in Texas, where wearing the suit can feel like walking in the desert with “a parka and a blanket on,” Jayden says.
But it all comes together on game day: The band starts playing. The cheerleaders grab megaphones and jump up and down. The football players join in, pumping their helmets to the beat of the music. And Jayden’s there, too. “I like to grab a megaphone or two and do that with them.”
He hopes to be a college mascot and even a professional one someday. And he thinks more kids should give the job a try. “Kids might think it’s embarrassing,” he says. But that’s the beauty of the suit: “It’s anonymous,” he says. “Just let it all out.”
Reggie the Raider
Joshua Eigbe, 15
St. Francis High School, Athol Springs, N.Y.
Joshua Eigbe was walking up the stairs at school when he accidentally bumped into another kid and — WHOMP! — fell flat on the ground. People laughed, but he wasn’t embarrassed. After all, it wasn’t really Joshua who fell. It was Reggie the Raider.
And anyway, a little klutziness is part of the job when you’re wearing a fuzzy suit, a massive bird head and yellow boots that are triple the size of human feet. “I turned it into a joke,” he says: He put his hands on his head and shook it. Everyone loved it. And he got a new, crowd-pleasing move.
For Joshua, who has been playing Reggie since last year, the job matches his personality. “I’m always happy,” he says. At games, he dances and waves (his go-to is the Griddy). He sometimes runs around playing tag with little kids. At open-house nights at school, he walks around popping his head into classrooms. Sometimes, he says, his cheeks hurt after games from smiling so much — even if nobody could see it.
Gusto the Gale
Mackenzie Barnes, 15
Lancaster High School, Lancaster, Ohio
When Mackenzie Barnes is dressed as Gusto the Gale, she always has a bodyguard. It’s not to keep her from being mobbed by fans. (Though she does have fans.) It’s because, well, she can’t really see. Or balance. “If someone comes up to me, I might bump into them,” she says.
Mackenzie started as a cheerleader in ninth grade, performing at junior-varsity football games on Saturdays. But then she learned that her school was looking for a new person to play Gusto, their yellow-and-blue, googly-eyed mascot, at Friday night football games. “I thought it would be cool to try,” she says.
She quickly discovered that performing dances inside a stiff, narrow tornado costume is tricky. “I can barely do the motions,” she says. She still grabs pompoms and performs routines — she just can’t lift her arms above her shoulders, or kick farther than a few inches. “I can do a small little jump in it, but not much, or you’ll fall,” she says.
But she finds ways to have fun with it. During a long speech at a school event, she started slowly spinning around like a tornado and cracking up the crowd. She has kept that spin move as part of her routine. And at every game, she makes sure to walk through the stands — with her cheerleader bodyguard — for high fives. (Well, medium fives.)
One of the best parts, she says, is interacting with the children she sees at games. “From the first time I did it, there were kids running up for hugs and pictures,” she says. “It was just nice seeing how big of a smile they had.”
The post Clear Eyes. Foam Head. Can’t Lose. appeared first on New York Times.
