I am a MFFL through and through, but I have to get this off my chest: Mavs Man, now in his seventh season (!), is safely the creepiest, scariest, grossest, most disgusting, weirdest, most terrifying mascot this world has ever seen. Ever. (And that includes the Dallas Cowboys' universally loathed mascot, Rowdy.) That basketball-veined mask that looks like the Thing shrunk down after weeks on meth. That expression that looks like he wants your soul when he should be instilling a sense of happiness and joy. Like, why can’t we just stick with Champ? I ask of you, Mr. Cuban: What’s so wrong with a one-horse town, anyway?
Here’s where I’m coming from: Last night, the S.O. scored some sweet seats from a co-worker who couldn’t make the game (we’re talking seven rows back from the hardwood, sweet). Despite the outcome of the game, and the atrocious uniforms of the Washington Wizards, the experience was amazing from a perspective some 87 levels below where we usually get to sit at the American Airlines Center.
Until Mavs Man appeared.
Champ horsed around Section 101 for a while, making people laugh and being a good, solid mascot. Then Mavs Man appeared, and I swear I couldn’t look up from my nachos. I just couldn’t risk making eye contact with something scarier than the It clown, a marionette and the animatronic band from Showbiz Pizza all put together.
At one point, MM picked up a child -- and how that mother let that happen, I don’t know -- and bounced him around a bit. If I had been that kid, I probably would have thrown up on the thing or bitten the shit out of him. It’s a shame too. I’m sure the man in the suit is a lovely person, determined to fill fans with Mavs spirit and energy. But 10 bucks says he can’t look in the mirror once he puts that mask on. Assuming it is a mask. --Merritt Martin
