Under the turtle’s mask
Very few students can say they have seen the world through Testudo’s eyes.
I have.
I wore the costume for 12 minutes Jan. 31 in hopes of becoming a part of the next generation of students serving as the university’s school mascot.
The students who currently don the costume are graduating in May, giving four to five freshmen or sophomores the opportunity to dance, cheer and entertain a stadium during university sporting events.
When I go to games, I watch the mascot. While my friends cheer when the Terps score, I cheer when Testudo crowd surfs.
Naturally, after reading an advertisement for the position in the Classified section of The Diamondback, I leapt at the chance to try out. I proceeded to prepare myself by watching mascot dance-offs on YouTube.
I enlisted my partner-in-crime and roommate Katherine Rentas to assist me in my school spirit endeavor. On the day of tryouts, we planted ourselves across the stadium from our competition and scoped them out. Fifteen people received callbacks, including me. Only two others were girls. A boy in a red cap was the only one stretching and, in the hallway during others’ tryouts, practicing break dancing moves. Three guys were disappointed about being unable to watch the Terps’ away game and kept tabs on it via Blackberries and cell phones.
We were called out one at a time by our numbers to put on the suit and perform a number of game-day scenarios, designed to test a candidate’s ability to move in the costume along with his or her dance skills and energy.
Contestant number three, one of the students eventually selected to be Testudo, demonstrated all three characteristics, according to my roommate.
“He got the most into it,” she said. “You could tell his goal was to shock everyone and entertain — not just be enthusiastic. He ran and slid like he was on a Slip ‘n Slide, jumped up, did push-ups and kept running. He did a signature move that got everyone’s attention, and that’s what did it.”
To clarify the rumor, Testudo does not receive free tuition. The student mascot is treated as a student athlete and is excused from classes for away games. The student is also required to keep his or her identity anonymous. No prior mascot, gymnastic or dance experience is required, but backflips do entertain the crowd.
A final clarification regarding the costume: The rumors of the costume’s stench are true. My respect for the student mascot has increased dramatically because of this. Being in the suit is like being enclosed in a sock dripping in sweat. I was concerned with the suit’s fit and my ability to move in it; luckily, there are two differently sized costumes — one for taller students and one for shorter students — and no formal height requirement.
I was assigned the shorter costume and was swimming in it. It is basically a mechanics suit made of worn, fake brown fur that zips in the front. My legs were completely undefined. The suit was so baggy on me it looked like Testudo had cellulite and short stumpy legs — hardly becoming for a mascot.
Next, the shell was slipped over me like a vest. Then four-fingered gloves were placed on. I think they lack a fifth finger so the mascot can’t give anyone the middle finger either on purpose or by accident. The giant head was last. To keep it in place, a bicycle helmet is secured inside. The strap is worn loosely to allow the most possible movement.
The current graduating mascots informed me of two essential mascot rules: Always keep moving, and never talk. “Zombie Nation” started playing, and I dashed across the gym, pumping my fists in the air to motivate the imaginary crowd. When I reached the group of cheerleaders, I galloped back and forth, throwing my arms in the air and waving my fists. I went low to the ground and beat up the beat, Jersey Shore style. Through my limited eyesight in the screens on Testudo’s head I saw smiles and heard laughs from the cheerleader judges. Success!
The music stopped, and I swayed back and forth as I waited for my next assignment. Photo ops! Two cheerleaders came and stood next to me, and I posed with thumbs up, body builder and peace signs.
Then, I suddenly heard crying. My next task was to pacify a crying child, or, in this case, a cheerleader sitting on her knees. I panicked. I tried waving, covering my mouth, shaking my head and playing peek-a-boo, all to no avail. My ideas had run out, but finally, in a desperate effort, I gave the peace sign, and surprisingly, it worked. The cheerleaders laughed, and the “little girl” gave me the peace sign back, hugged me and agreeably took a photo with Testudo.
I was celebrating my mini-victory when I heard, “Testudo, catch the football!” Suddenly, through my bug eyes, I saw a football hurtling toward my face. My first instinct was to duck, but that hardly seemed Testudo-esque. I reached with all my might and failed. The ball hit the ground, and I scurried to retrieve it.
Then came the part the YouTube videos had prepared me for: “Can you dance better than Testudo?” Rap music started playing, and I went crazy dancing. I moved my feet and arms faster and with more emphasis than I ever had before. Suddenly, from behind me a group of small girls came running up, and we held hands and danced.
Finally, I heard, “ESPN wants you to get the crowd excited!” My legs were shaking from the weight of the costume, but I used all my remaining energy to raise my arms, point and desperately convey excitement through a fur suit.
I felt someone take my hand and lead me away, saying, “Come on, Testudo.” I passively obliged. “Good job, Testudo,” said the faceless voice. My tryout was over. Shaking and sweating, I was led away to take off my costume for the last time.
Never again will I be Testudo. Sadly, I did not make the cut.
diversions@umdbk.com
