Mascots master tricks of the trade
DENNY SEITZ
Staff Writer

FORT MILL, S.C. -

It's the sort of insider information rarely revealed in the sports world.

How do you hassle an umpire without getting thrown out of a game? How do you tease the coach or manager and get away with it? How do you maintain popularity with fans year after year?

The answer is simple:

Be the mascot.

On Friday, Joby Giacalone, the original Homer the Dragon at Charlotte Knights games, showed other mascots how it's done, guiding 11 pupils through a daylong mascot class at Knights Stadium. He then joined his protegés in cheering the Knights, who hosted the Richmond Braves on Friday night.

The events were in honor of Homer's 13th birthday.

They learned how to walk funny and how to scowl at umpires. They learned how to stare wistfully at a desired object, such as a fun-loving fan or a tasty-looking piece of pizza. Most of all, though, they learned how to have fun at the ballpark.

"That's what it's all about, really," Giacalone said. "That's why mascots exist."

The good ones have a way of carving out their own personalities, Giacalone said, and that's what he wanted to bring out in his subjects.

"People don't realize the talent and quirkiness it takes to be a good mascot," said Giacalone, who was Homer from 1989 to 1993.

The class cost $100 for the mascots, who ranged from beginners trying to break into the business, like 16-year old West Virginian Andrew Hill, to Myrtle Beach native Kimberly Miller, the group's lone female and a working mascot.

Mascots, like superheroes, don't like to reveal their true identities.

Most of the mascots at Giacalone's class work for minor-league baseball or soccer teams.

Giacalone, director of programming and systems development at the University of Virginia and founder of Mascot Consulting, was joined by Charlotte resident Brett Rhinehart, a former pro mascot, and Mascot Consulting assistant Humphrey Liu in teaching the class.

Hill and Miller were no different from the rest on Friday, aspiring to become well-known in their professions. To that end, Giacalone offers this advice: "Try every gimmick you can think of, once. Don't hold anything back. It might make the difference between making $20 a night at a minor-league park or making big bucks in the majors."

The salary range for mascots fluctuates as wildly as the various characters. Some make minimum wage. Most, Rhinehart said, earn a little less than $30,000 per year. The best in the business can earn six-figure incomes annually.

Regardless of the salaries, all of the mascots shared one trait.

"Whether we admit it or not, everyone who wants to be a mascot wants to be the center of attention," Rhinehart said.

Rhinehart has been the center of attention on a national scale. In 1995, working as Mariner Moose, the mascot of pro baseball's Seattle Mariners, Rhinehart crashed into the centerfield wall while being towed on in-line skates behind a four-wheel-drive truck. He dislocated one ankle, had a compound fracture in the other and dislocated a knee in the accident, which occurred in the 1995 American League playoffs.

The scene was replayed thousands of times on national television programs and earned The Play of the Year honors from ESPN.

"There are a lot of injuries involving mascots," Rhinehart said with a laugh.

Among the 11 mascots at Knights Stadium, three were nursing injuries of their own. One had a bandage on his shoulder. Another had a brace on his leg. A third was fighting soreness that came after a nasty spill on a four-wheeler at a hockey rink.

They say it's all part of the job.

"When you put on the mask, you become someone else," Rhinehart said. "You can be Tigger or John Wayne. You can be Bob Dole."

Denny Seitz: (803) 327-8516; dseitz@charlotteobserver.com