Page 17 of Riding Pine
She smiles and folds her hands in front of her.
“Community events. The new ownership group feels strongly about involving the team more with the community and families. We want Slappy in the community to promote the game days as family affairs. Family bonding, making memories and hockey. More people in seats means more people eating concession food and buying souvenirs.” She pushes her chair back from the desk with a giant grin. “Which reminds me!”
Christine reaches down and plops a gift bag on the desk. “Go ahead. Look inside.”
I peer inside and pull out several layers of green and white tissue paper. Among all the tissue in the team-coloured gift bag are various beaver-themed souvenirs.
A stuffed beaver wearing the team jersey. A T-shirt with the beaver angrily chewing a hockey stick and the phrase,Beavers don’t bite, they destroy. That one makes me chuckle.
There’s even a puck with the team logo and a beaver.
But it’s a lot of pressure to know that selling this stuff hinges on my popularity. While I can perform without an issue, I’ve never had to bond with people while doing it or hope they stop at the merchandise table on their way out.
What if they don’t like me as a beaver?
“So, ah, I’ve done some reading on mascots. Am I the only Slappy, or will there be others?”
“We would normally consider at least two of you, but I’ve researched you, Ben. I know you were a talented circus performer. Your routines are amazing. You still practice at your studio, and we will accommodate as best we can, by the way. We didn’t want to have to pay less to have two people in the suit. We want you and the uniqueness you can bring to the role.” Christine leans forward. “No other AHL team has a mascot performing intricate shows during intermission. They might even buy a ticket just to see you for seven minutes.”
It’s good for my ego to hear someone say they want only me and recognize my talent. I won’t lie about that.
“What if I can’t make a game? Maybe I’m sick or hurt?”
“We hope that doesn’t happen, but of course, we understand. You’d contact me as soon as possible so we could reschedule the entertainment for that game.”
“Can I have a minute to read over all this?”
“Of course. I’ll step out and give you a few minutes.”
Christine exits the office, and I shift in the chair with the papers. It’s a lot more work than I thought it would be. Community events? There are four alone in the coming weeks, with a note about pre-season and building anticipation. There’s also one more each month, with a note that should the team make the playoffs, there will be more games to appear at, and my compensation would be paid per appearance. Which means, should the team do well, I’d make even more money along with a bonus if merch sales hit targets.
A performance bonus, I suppose, and that’s extra incentive to do this job well.
If this were my full-time job, I’d be thrilled. It’s a great wage. But as much as I yearn to perform, I don’t want to always be in a beaver suit doing it. My yoga and silks studio is what I want to grow. Maybe put together a local acrobat show and mentor kids for the circus.
But it’s only a year out of my life to do this and land a nice chunk of change doing something that, on the surface, seems fun. I’m not a hockey fan, but I can learn to like it, can’t I? Seems like a small sacrifice to make to earn money to keep my business going and maybe move out of my best friend’s office.
It’s not until I get to the last pages of the document with the rules of conduct that I sit up and pay attention.
The individual who plays the part of Slappy the Beaver shall, under no circumstances, reveal their identity to players, friends, family, fans, or the public. Should you do so, immediate dismissal will be enforced.
“How are you making out?” Christine returns with a garment bag and hangs it on the back of the office door. “Questions for me?”
“How come I can’t tell anyone it’s me in the suit?”
“Mascots never reveal their real identities. Kind of like Superman.” She laughs before being serious again. “You can’t because we like to keep the air of mystery. If your identity were revealed, then you’d gain personally, which is not the point.”
“I already teach classes here, though, and many of my students know my background. If they go to a game, they’re going to know it’s me. Especially if you want me performing acrobat routines.”
Christine nods. “True. We thought of that, and should someone ever ask directly, you simply don’t answer to confirm. Some people will figure it out eventually, but we don’t want you to volunteer the information or ever confirm it. Just leave them to their thoughts.”
“What if I already told someone about it?”
She frowns. “Well, since you weren’t under contract, I can’t hold it against you. But I implore you to make sure they keep their lips sealed.”
Not that I want to scream to all who can hear, ‘Hey! I play a beaver at hockey games,’ but it seems like a detail people close to me should know about. Like Lukas. I don’t feel right keeping this from him if we keep…doing whatever it is we’re doing.
“And what if I date someone? That’s still a no?”
