I am a man who lives by lists.
I have multiple lists going at any given time; to-do lists for both work and home, lists of stuff to buy or look for the next time I get a chance to stop at a specific store, lists of things I need to get done for school, lists of calls I need to make and bills I have to pay.
One of David Letterman’s bits on The Late Show that I find consistently funny is the nightly Top 10 List.
I watch the VH1 Top 20 Countdown nearly every week even though there is rarely a song or video on the list that I will admit to liking even a little bit.
Lists keep me informed in a neat, concise, easy-reading kind of format that doesn’t require much, if any, explanation. They’re entertaining. And they help keep my scattered, easily distracted brain on track.
I like lists.
And occasionally, for no apparent reason, I find myself making stupid, random lists.
Like the other day, I was thinking about baseball. It’s March. It’s been months since the end of last season and the new 2010 season is quickly approaching. To say that I am ready for some baseball is an understatement. I get like this every March. But why I decided to jot down a list of Major League mascots that I think are goofy is beyond me.
The obvious question is why I put so much thought into such a ridiculous, disposable list. I don’t have an answer. I have absolutely no idea.
Welcome to my brain.
There are certain mascots that just make sense. Fredbird is obviously a Cardinal so St. Louis is the only place he could work. Billy the Marlin could only be from Florida. The same would go for Detroit’s Paws (a tiger), Washington’s Screech (a bald eagle), and even Kansas City’s Sluggerrr (a lion wearing a crown).
I intentionally ignored the nondescript muppet-like characters that could easily be from any team such as the Phillie Phanatic, Tampa Bay’s Raymond and Cleveland’s Slider. I also avoided the almost interchangeable baseball-head guys like Atlanta’s Homer, New York’s Mr. Met, and Mr. Redlegs of Cincinnati. Both of these categories just seem so utterly forgettable to me.
But here are some of my favorites:
Lefty & Righty – Boston Red Sox:
Socks. Dirty laundry as mascots. I understand that they’re anthropomorphic versions of Boston’s logo, but seriously, there are certain things that should not be brought to life. Socks are one of those things.
Junction Jack – Houston Astros:
The former Astros mascot, Orbit, made sense. He was an alien, which drew obvious associations with Houston, the NASA space program, and Space City. Even the train engineer part of Jack makes sense, since the ballpark was built on the former site of Union Station. But a big, Harvey-esque rabbit? Really?
Dinger – Colorado Rockies:
Dinger is a purple dinosaur similar to the ball-cap wearing B.J., the yellow Protoceratops from the kid’s show Barney & Friends. I can’t help but expect him to burst out into a chorus of “I love you – You love me” at any given moment. (I also can’t stand how he tends to spend time in the stands, right behind the batter’s box, while the opposing team is pitching. Seems like that would be an intentional distraction. If it wasn’t for the net above the backstop he probably would’ve been “accidentally” nailed by a stray fastball more than once by now.)
Bernie Brewer – Milwaukee Brewers:
Ahh Wisconsin, with your cheese-heads and racing sausages. What could be a more fitting mascot than a creepy looking, beer-swilling dude with an enormous yellow handlebar mustache occasionally gliding down a big yellow sliding board? At least he doesn’t live on top of a giant keg and plunge into a huge beer mug after every home run and Brewer’s victory anymore.
The Swinging Friar – San Diego Padres:
Contrary to popular belief, the Chicken was never an official mascot of any San Diego sports team. Nope. The Padres are represented by none other than a friar. Similar to monks, friars took vows of poverty, chastity and obedience in order to serve their community. Yup – sounds just like professional baseball players, right?