Root Suits

“It’s like Michael Keaton said about Batman: ‘You have to work the suit.’ ”

--Nathan Wilson

Mascot instructor

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Winning may be important, but it’s not the only thing that matters in sports marketing. Nowadays, team owners want their fans coming back. They want to show them a good time. They want to give them . . . the Famous Chicken.

Or the Phillie Phanatic.

Or the Gorilla.

The Famous Chicken, who became famous at San Diego Padres baseball games as the (radio station) KGB Chicken, turned mascotting into big business, generating an annual income of $1 million or more. It spawned a generation of wannabes.

In Orange County, the Pond in Anaheim has become home not just to four professional sports teams, but also to their live-wire mascots.

Wild Wing, who has survived trial by both ice and fire, is a key front man for hockey’s Mighty Ducks.

Roller hockey’s Bullfrogs have Zeus, King of the Pond, to help rally fans.

Indoor soccer’s Splash have dolphin Finley--or a variation thereof.

And arena football’s Piranhas have green-headed Piranha Man.

Wild Wing is the most famous--he is a Disney creation, after all--and its most infamous. When the winged wonder caught fire during a pregame routine last year, it was front-page, CNN, “Good Morning America” news. In Disney-esque fashion, he came back the next night bandaged up and in a wheelchair--and attempted the stunt again. Disney received about 750 calls and letters from children wondering if Wild Wing was OK, as well as a lot of free publicity: He went from being a regional character to a national one.

Zeus, the Bullfrogs’ bullfrog, is the most lifelike of the Pond’s mascots if you consider that there are some really big frogs in Arkansas.

Finley, the dolphin, has gone the way of a tuna net, replaced by . . . well, nothing--yet.

Piranha Man--half-man, half-Creature From the Black Lagoon-- isn’t exactly the type to kiss babies. The newest of the Pond’s inhabitants, he looks more like a superhero--or villain--than do the others.

“I’m a real proponent of great mascots--I don’t want any lame mascots,” says Roy Englebrecht, president of the first-year Piranhas and a minority owner and vice president of the minor league baseball Rancho Cucamonga Quakes, whose mascot is called Tremor.

“I’m not a fan of meet-and-greet mascots who walk around and shake hands with kids. That, to me, is lame,” Englebrecht says. “The standard we look for is the standard the Chicken has created, a mascot that’s entertaining to the fans, who can ad-lib any situation, who can make adults, teenagers and kids laugh. Someone who can transcend all three age groups. There aren’t many who can do that.”

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The Chicken (an independent enterprise), the Phillie Phanatic (of baseball’s Philadelphia Phillies) and the Gorilla (of basketball’s Phoenix Suns)--the highest-paid mascots in the game--are three who measure up.

Although Englebrecht may be biased, he thinks Tremor, the Rallysaurus who entertains fans at Quakes games, also fits the bill. In fact, his popularity spawned Tremor Inc. More than $100,000 in Tremor merchandise was sold last year, Englebrecht said, and now the dinosaur is going after some of the Famous Chicken’s business too.

Tremor has appeared at 12 other minor league parks at $1,200 an appearance--that’s about a fifth of what it costs to to secure the Chicken.

In fact, Tremor has ascended to the next level and been given an assistant: Aftershock was brought on to expand the skit routines.

Englebrecht thinks Piranha Man--like Tremor--transcends age groups as an entertainer, though he probably won’t be a star outside Orange County. Still, chili cook-offs, parades and community events are natural outlets for Piranha Man’s popularity.

“We’re in the business of first impressions with the Piranhas, and we felt the fans deserved a first-class mascot in a first-class building,” Englebrecht said. “It happens because the costume [which cost nearly $7,000] is very strong--it’s unique.

“And then you have to get lucky. We got the right person. There’s 15 million people within 50 miles, and there’s about three guys who are any good. Those guys aren’t on every street corner. I was scared to death that first game when we debuted him.”

The Piranhas, like the Ducks and a number of other teams, keep the identity of the person inside the costume close to their vests. But that doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate the performer’s individualism. Or how that person helps contribute to the mascot’s success or failure.

And there are so many factors that come into play.

Anyone remember Iceman? He was the rock ‘n’ roll singing creature who accompanied the Mighty Ducks into the NHL--for one night. But during his first appearance, the Ducks trailed, 2-0. A couple of times his microphone didn’t work. There was a glitch with his guitar. He was booed right out of the building, canceled. Sent to the deep freeze. A Disney dud.

“The Iceman cometh,” Tony Tavares, president of Disney Sports Enterprises, said at the time, “and the Iceman goeth.”

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Wild Wing is a whole other story.

“Wild Wing is our way of identifying with the mass quantity of children,” said Bill Robertson, director of media relations for Disney Sports Enterprises. “The children gravitated toward the mascot, and it is still the most popular merchandiser we have. There’s no doubt mascots are an important part of the entertainment process--for both the Mighty Ducks and the Angels.”

Ribbie (as in RBI) and Southpaw, a couple of mascot bears at Anaheim Stadium, were sent to the showers (actually, the parking lot and concourse) after Disney bought the Angels. Robertson called it a promotion, a way of offering an entertainment package for fans from the moment they get out of their cars.

Although Disney is still evaluating Ribbie and Southpaw’s future--the same way the NHL Kings are evaluating Kingston, the snow leopard--one thing is certain: “We have a couple of things up our sleeves as far as mascots [for the Angels] go, but I guarantee you’re going to see bigger and better entertainment, and mascots are part of our entertainment,” Robertson said.

“It’s the link between the children and our organization. With the Mighty Ducks, that’s the first thing [children] realize--’It’s Wild Wing; I want him to give me a hug.’ And those fans grow up to be your fans and season ticket holders of tomorrow.”

In a previous incarnation, Piranha Man--who spoke on the condition of anonymity--was Hamlet, the sea serpent mascot of the Lake Elsinore Storm minor league baseball team, and also Blooper (a cross between Darryl Strawberry and the Flintstones’ Dino), the Padres mascot under the Tom Werner regime.

“There are three things that make a good mascot,” Piranha Man said. “A good-looking costume, a person who’s going to make it work and, most important, a club, group or organization to back the person inside the costume who will give it the personality to make the costume work. If you don’t have that triangle, I don’t think you’ll have a mascot. When I was with the Padres, I didn’t have that third element.

“The Padres, under Tom Werner, didn’t have a plan. They said you can’t do the wave; you can’t dance in the aisles; you can’t bother people; you can’t stand on the rail. Opening night, they told me to go out there and do it. No introduction.”

The Long Beach Ice Dogs of the International Hockey League have a bulldog named Spike, but Los Angeles is devoid of bleacher creatures, although the roller hockey Blades are hopeful of having one next season. The Dodgers don’t have a mascot, and neither do the Clippers or Lakers. And that, says Cal State Fullerton senior Nathan Wilson, is surprising, because basketball is an ideal venue to pull on the costume.

Wilson--who wears the 7-pound head of Zeus--was Tuffy Titan at Cal State Fullerton for two years. He is also a mascot instructor for United Spirit Assn., a summer cheer champ for high school, college and professional cheerleaders.

“When I was Tuffy [who teamed with the female Tiffy], we were basically basketball mascots, and I owned the gym,” Wilson said. “I could go in the stands; I could run straight down onto the floor; I could do skits on the fly.”

Wilson, 23, says Piranha Man has the most ideal setup at the 5-year-old arena because he can be on the field during play.

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At hockey and soccer games, where glass walls protect the fans, mascots have a tough time becoming part of the spectacle. Ogden Facility Management, which runs the Pond, prohibits patrons and mascots from going down the stairs while the puck or ball is in play for safety reasons.

It also doesn’t want crowds congregating in the aisles. Thus, Zeus runs down the stairs during a break in the action, hits the glass, tries to create a little noise in a section and, when children approach to get a closer look, heads for the lobby to sign autographs and pat kids on their heads.

And Zeus does attract the kids.

“When I attract a crowd [in the stands],” Wilson said, “I have to move.”

Also popular with young children was Finley, the dolphin mascot for the Splash. But Finley didn’t look tough enough, and for marketing reasons--the dolphin didn’t sell many T-shirts--he is undergoing what management is calling a “metaporpoisis.” He will come back, probably for September’s seven home games, as a killer whale with a new name (part of a name-that-mascot contest).

“You have to be pretty creative to be in a fish costume where you can only move your arms this much,” Wilson says, holding his hands about a foot apart.

Today’s franchise-sanctioned mascots come long after renegade fan-turned-mascot Harry Halo showed up at Angels games, who independently made his own costume (just a halo and wings) and showed up at Angels games beating a drum while the team was getting beaten like a drum in the 1960s and ‘70s. He was never officially recognized by the Angels and was eventually asked to cool it--kind of like Iceman.

True mascots serve their purpose, whether it’s posing for photographs or helping fire T-shirts into the stands with a slingshot.

“[Zeus] works in with the concept,” said Bullfrogs’ director of public relations Rex Fontenot. “This is a family event, and he’s a good ambassador to the kids. Seventy-five percent of it is to be a conduit to the kids, and 25% of it is to get the crowd going.”

And 100% to keep them coming back.