Life Behind the Mascot Mask

I came to Monmouth as a marine biology major, figuring I’d end up in a lab coat, not a mascot suit. Science had always been my focus—I even worked at the National Aquarium in Baltimore during high school—so that seemed like the obvious next step after graduation. But donning the Shadow suit for four years changed that.

It wasn’t my first time as a mascot. Back in middle school, my twin sister’s cheer coach saw me hanging around practice and handed me a lion suit. But at Monmouth, the idea stuck. Looking for something different to do outside of class, I reached out to the Athletics Department almost on a whim to see if they needed a Shadow. My “tryout” turned out to be a dry run at an Open House. It went well, and I was hired.

Being Shadow was a blast, but of course I had to keep my identity secret. That made it even more fun and gave me cover for a few pranks. One of my favorites came during a basketball timeout, when I pulled a friend from my ballroom dance class out of the crowd and waltzed her across the court. She seemed to catch on that it was someone who’d been trained underneath the suit. Later, in class, she tried to guess who it was. But I never let on.

I had come into the Shadow job with no formal training, but after my first year, I began attending mascot camp each summer. That’s where I learned how to project personality through movement, how to work a crowd, and how to improvise on the fly. More importantly, I met professionals who showed me that “mascotting” wasn’t just a job for interns—for a lucky few, it could be a career.

The more I performed, the more I realized nothing made me happier. I still loved science and graduated with honors, but mascotting lit me up in a way the lab never did. Telling my family that I wanted to pursue it professionally was tough, but they understood.

After Monmouth, I set about turning my passion into a career. I interned with D.C. United, performed for the Maryland Black Bears junior hockey team, and suited up as a community college mascot. To pay the bills, I also worked jobs in horticulture, toxicology, and food production. Then came my big break: the Sacramento River Cats, Triple-A affiliate of the San Francisco Giants, hired me as their full-time mascot.

Moving across the country wasn’t easy, but the three seasons I spent in Sacramento showed me what life as a full-time, professional mascot was really like. It included everything from school assemblies and community events to rehearsed skits and plenty of improv. Behind the scenes, I helped plan theme nights, manage giveaways, and train promotions staff. The hours were long and sometimes brutal—I once worked three straight games in 112-degree heat—but I learned more than I ever expected about what it takes to do the job well.

These days, I’m back home in Maryland, performing with the Aberdeen IronBirds, a minor league affiliate of the Baltimore Orioles. I play Ripcord, one half of the team’s mascot duo alongside Ferrous, a belly-forward comic foil. The two of us play off each other like siblings—he steals the spotlight; I play it cool—and that dynamic keeps it fun night after night.

People sometimes ask how I keep it fresh. The truth is, I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t fun. Yes, the suit is hot, the hours unpredictable, and fans can be tough. But when a kid lights up for a photo or a crowd bursts out laughing at some spur-of-the-moment bit, it’s all worth it.

My dream is still to make it to the majors. With fewer than 100 full-time mascot jobs across professional sports, it’s a tough field to crack. I’ve auditioned at that level and know it takes both skill and luck. Until I get the call, I’ll keep suiting up, chasing the next opportunity, and enjoying the ride.

—As told to Tony Marchetti