Here’s something a little—well, different. Before you read it, let us explain!
Our blog has been up for a couple weeks now, and it has been so much fun to read your comments and hear students talking about it.
We were really surprised, though, to see how excited one particular member of our campus became. Eagor, the PCC Eagles’ mascot, is someone we usually see only at games. Who would have guessed that he is actually quite an ambitious eagle! After reading the first few blog posts, Eagor showed up one morning begging to be one of the bloggers. He said it was one of his life’s dreams. That seems hard to believe, but who can say no to the mascot? After all, it's not every day that you meet an eagle with such aspirations. So we talked it over and nervously agreed to let Eagor be a member of the team. Should be interesting!
Being a mascot is cool. I get to wear a basketball uniform without the stress of being able to dribble or slam-dunk the ball—a difficult task for an eagle.
But being a mascot was not my intended position.
“I’d like to be a tumbler,” I told my interviewer.
He rubbed his chin and stared off into the middle distance. I imagined he was picturing me performing amazing acrobatics across the basketball court during halftime.
“You like basketball?” he finally asked.
“Sure, I like it. I like anything. Especially tumbling.”
He glared at me skeptically, as if he’d never heard of an eagle performing gymnastics. “Have you ever—tumbled—before?”
I wasn’t sure where he was going with all of this. Don’t most of us have dreams that we’re waiting to experience? “Uh—no,” I answered.
“Do you have any experience with gymnastics or acrobatics?”
“I used to play hopscotch.”
He rubbed his chin again and pursed his lips contemplatively. He reminded me of my mom when I was young and told her I wanted to be a lifeguard.
“You can’t be a lifeguard,” she said. “You can’t swim.”
“But, Ma!” I cried. “You’re supposed to be supportive!”
“I am supportive—I’m supporting the lives of every person you’d lose. I’ll enroll you in piano lessons.”
I hated piano lessons. Having feathers put me at a distinct disadvantage.
After endless minutes of reminiscent turmoil, I finally got a response from my skeptical interviewer.
“What about being the mascot?”
My dreams were shattered.
“Eh.” I shrugged.
“It’s not a hard job. You get to move around a lot and meet people. You get to wear a uniform and sneakers.”
Honestly, I wasn’t opposed to the idea; it just wasn’t what I wanted. If wearing a uniform could’ve enticed me, I would’ve applied to work security and operate a Segway or to be a cook in the Palms Grille. But in spite of my dry, sarcastic exterior, I’m inwardly soft. My interviewer seemed so confident that this would be my ideal service opportunity that I couldn’t say no.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll give it a try.”
During the first Eagles basketball game, I felt kind of awkward. I’d been told to walk around encouraging team spirit and meet new people, but the crowd wasn’t too responsive. I just got a few waves of pity from some friends.
“Get a real job!” someone called from the stands.
I ignored him.
The game went on as I rallied excitement from some visiting children, but I had little success with my fellow students. Then it was halftime. The cheerleaders cheered and tossed their pompoms as the tumblers ran and flipped across the court. While they performed their skillful acrobatics, I stood on the sidelines, feeling the odious pang of envy. I would’ve made a good tumbler.
Before self-pity could go any further, I felt two hands push me onto the court.
“Jump around!” the tumbler told me.
I ran and leaped with the tumblers, and the audience laughed and cheered, “Eagor! Eagor! Eagor!”
When halftime was over, the student body was wild with team spirit. The cheerleaders, tumblers, and I worked together and had a blast.
So I’m not a tumbler. I’m a mascot. But hey, at least I’m not taking piano lessons.