by J. Paxton

Created on: January 13, 2009

Last fall, I moved "down south" (as my Midwestern peers call it) to North Carolina. (I have since been informed it is not TRULY "down south", but I am easing my pale self into it all.) I have began graduate work at the University of North Carolina, where I am now a proud "Tarheel". According to Wikipedia, "most experts believe its roots come from the fact that tar, pitch and turpentine created from the vast pine forests were one of North Carolina's most important exports early in the state's history". As shockingly lame as that is, it's actually (and quite sadly) a step up from the past few years of my mascot history.

I graduated last May from Denison University, a fairly prestigious, private, renowned liberal arts school. We were often jokingly referred to as "the Harvard of the Midwest", a title that may have been a tad over the top, but we took anyways. Our mascot?

The Big Red. That's it. I'm not even really sure what that's supposed to mean, to be perfectly honest. It was said that we used to have a "real" mascot, but it was deemed "politically incorrect" and so we were left with the name of a chewing gum product. It may have been tolerable if the name referred to some unspoken animal, such as the Big Red Cardinals of Arizona or the Big Red Razorback of University of Arkansas. Apparently though, between attending the sailing club and buying polo shirts to pop the collars on, we didn't have the time to think of anything to tack on the end of our mascot.

Despite how pathetic those four years were, I was coming from yet another previous institution with pitiful representation. I spent my teenage years at Plymouth-Salem High School, where, as freshman, I entered, eager to partake in the stereotypical events that had been ingrained into my mind by cheesy teen movies. Homecoming football games, pep rallies, and cheering on my team from the bleachers. And then I realized who I would be supporting:

The Plymouth-Salem Rocks.

Now, to be fair, some of my peers did find it wonderfully witty; it does, in fact, work on multiple levels. There is the historical reference to Plymouth Rock, of course. And then (arguably, more importantly) there's the power in capturing a 90's phrase and ensuring that it will live on for generations: "Plymouth-Salem ROCKS, man!" Intimidating, no? All I'm saying is, there are few things in life that are sadder than watching a 17 year old guy jump up and down in a cardboard box that is supposed to represent a rock.

So basically, I guess my point is that I've never experienced the pride in cheering on my home team or have been able to take myself seriously when I refer to myself by my school's mascot. (Try saying it: "Yeah, I'm a Rock." Doesn't work, does it?) Looks like I'll have to keep trying. Anyone have suggestions for where to get my doctorate?

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