My Journey to Shadow
How one alumna went from the stands to the suit—and never looked back.
It’s difficult and daunting to sum up in words the profound impact playing the role of Shadow had on me.
Over a decade after my first gig in the suit, I’m living my dream job in entertainment, working alongside television network executives, actors, and creators that I greatly admire. I have the privilege of being an ambassador for a century-old brand that means something incredibly special to millions of people. And yet, I believe that I would not be as prepared for the challenges and triumphs I face each day without the perspective of having been a collegiate mascot.
I’m a natural-born performer. My parents remember me very seriously closing my childhood bedroom door to practice for Shania Twain cheerleading halftime dances. Thankfully, they respected my process and didn’t ask questions. As life moved along, the opportunities for performance unknowingly slipped through my fingertips. With only self-taught lip-synching credentials under my belt, I bombed a middle school theater audition of Oklahoma’s “I Can’t Say No” and cheered on my peers with pizzazz from the choir.
I then chose to prioritize sports, where I was never the fastest, tallest, or most consistent. Instead, I was forever the underdog, making outrageous center field catches all the way from left field and being a stellar but often benched backup for first base, coined adoringly by my dad as “Scoop Van Tine.” What I lacked in athleticism, I made up for in camaraderie and showmanship, being elected by our high school softball coach to represent the team on local news segments and lightening the sometimes intense, competitive mood in the locker room with a joke. After all, I earned the senior superlative as runner-up Class Clown. There’s proof of that: I’m naively photographed doing my most confident power pose in the yearbook page titled, “You Almost Made It!”
Fast forward to Monmouth University, where, like many students arriving on a college campus and living away from home for the first time, I was energized by the opportunity to let out the personality inside me that had long been hiding due to the trials and tribulations of typical high school politics. So, like my favorite song on the “Mean Girls” Broadway soundtrack, I thought to myself, “Where Do You Belong?”
When the softball team didn’t work out, I turned to Greek Life. It was the spring semester of my freshman year at one of my first social gatherings with my new Zeta Tau Alpha pals where I read aloud the email call for Shadow auditions and said, “Hey guys, wouldn’t it be funny if I auditioned?” I was curious about it and didn’t give it any further thought. A week later at the next chapter gathering, our ZTA president at the time announced at the end of the meeting, “Everyone, be sure to go watch ‘MVT’ audition for Shadow the Hawk!” Mic drop. My nerves wanted me to say there was a mistake or that I had been just joking. I didn’t. Instead, I smiled and waved obligingly, like Anne Hathaway in “Princess Diaries” as the new and terrified Princess of Genovia.
So, after countless daily texts from my sorority sisters asking for reminders of when and where the auditions were on campus, I went. The girls showed up in droves, filling out half of the auditorium with cheers and giddy smiles. The audition was quite the rigorous three-step process. Kidding—no Hawks were harmed in the house where Annie was filmed, of course!
After all that worrying, I had a ball. I performed the Evolution of Dance as me. Then, I got to put on the fur and perform it again, as Shadow, for the very first time. I was then tasked with doing “the walk” and was given props to test how I would engage an audience. The adrenaline helped me overcome any challenges that a first-time suit wearer might navigate. It was warm and it was heavy, but there was something glorious and strong about it. And just like that, it was over.
The room cleared out, I was me again, and the panel of judges sat me down. They first complimented my showing of supporters and suggested that if I could draw in a crowd like that for an audition, then perhaps I could wow a stadium. And then they told me something that shocked me … I got the role. And then something that shocked me even more … it had to be a secret. Not a soul, fellow Hawk, or staff member outside of the sports marketing department could know that I was behind the mask. So naturally, I said, “Yes!” And then as soon as I got back to Mullaney Hall, I said, “How?!” I was simultaneously dumbfounded and thrilled to represent a school that I already adored in this grand, albeit secretive way—even though I had no formal training or idea of how I was going to pull this off. I called my mom and swore her to secrecy. She obliged. We were in disbelief and elated at the same time.
So now that I’ve told you the story of life before Shadow, I will share a few brief stories that I’ve since come to tell over and over again.
First, I was lucky to get some formal fur training at UCA Mascot Camp. It was there that I learned the age-old adage, “If the fur ain’t flyin’, you ain’t tryin!” It was there that I learned to never drink milk before gearing up for a day in the suit. And it was there that I learned the art of nonverbal communication, which made a lasting impression on me long-term—and immediately short-term. My mom picked me up from the four-day intensive extravaganza at the University of Scranton with my two best friends, because we had tickets to go see Chelsea Handler in Atlantic City. They all are, to this day, baffled at how I was the quietest I had ever been during the long car ride, practicing my new commitment to miming so I wouldn’t mess up and speak while in the suit. What can I say? I majored in communications, so I like to talk!
Then, there was the time I got my nose pierced. My mom was not a fan of this decision, so I thought I could get away with it for a few months before she saw what I had done. To be clear, this was the only rebel move I have made in my life to date. She had a trip planned to come see me as Shadow at a basketball game, but she was supposed to arrive late, so she wouldn’t see me as me. Alas, she arrived early and saw the dazzling damage. Shadow had a not-so-jazzed visitor in the crowd that day! Don’t worry though, she is without a doubt, through and through, my biggest fan and greatest cheerleader. (Oh, and that was the last day I wore my briefly beloved nose ring.)
Last, my all-time favorite story from my time in the role: One day, minutes before the opening buzzer at a basketball game, and moments before “Who Are You” by The Who was about to roll, I heard a loud pop and a rattle in the suit’s head. I carefully and swiftly sprinted over to one of my colleagues on the sports marketing team and whispered oh so quietly, “I need help, I think there’s a screw loose in my head.” Her response was the best I could have ever asked for. “I know Meg, you’re wild and crazy! Now get on out there!” To which I explained that no, really, there was a screw loose in the head’s helmet that needed a quick fix. We masterfully ran into the wings of the stadium to replace the screw and made it out for my welcome moment on the court with the Monmouth cheerleaders, just in the nick of time.
As I shared at the beginning, there were so many moments—far too many to share for this assignment—while portraying Shadow that changed me forever. Looking back on them gives me a permanent smile. There were times when I had to be in the suit at a pep rally as Shadow but also had to be ready to do a quick change and hair flip in case I won my Homecoming Queen nomination. There were times when I would shake hands with my crushes and they would turn to their friends and say, “That’s definitely a dude in there, bro!” There were times when game-goers showed their true colors to the bird, whether nice or not-so-nice, and there were incredibly special fans who adored Shadow like no other. It was always hard to have such strong bonds with some fans of the big guy in the fur, and then hang up my suit after the game, see those fans in the parking lot, and have them walk by like they didn’t even know “me.”
It was worth every ounce of sweat and identity confusion, though. Because most of all, being Shadow taught me to put my own troubles aside and treat everyone equally with the utmost positivity and kindness, something I realized the world could use a lot more of. It taught me the value of earning trust and compassion from strangers and how a wave can make their day.
Every now and then, a recurring dream of mine still creeps in where my ponytail accidentally falls through the cracks of the suit in front of a sold-out crowd. When I play the “Little Shop of Horrors” in my earbuds on my way to work, I’m reminded of how my mascot chops got me the puppeteer role for Audrey II at Lauren K. Woods Theatre and reignited my long-lost love for theater. When my Italian study abroad experience comes up in conversation, for some reason I always first explain that I did the shortened summer trip instead of the traditional semester-long trip because it was the only time of year Shadow had off too. In those moments, I’m reminded of the hilarious and all-encompassing dedication and commitment this experience required.
Recently, in my current day job as a TV executive, I got to once again get up on stage and perform for a jam-packed crowd of fans. I pulled my mascot camp tips out of my back pocket to “pop the bubble,” as they called it, which means to over exaggerate any and all movements to clearly articulate and engage the audience. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. I am forever grateful to have cherished the role as Shadow for the majority of my undergraduate time at Monmouth, and I am so glad that my fellow Shadows are getting their well-deserved time to shine.