By Stan Silliman
AMARILLO SOX, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?
Amarillo Sox, what were you thinking?
With regard to the design of your new mascot uniform, that is? Who designed it anyway, Anthony Weiner?
Okay readers, do we need to back up? Some publications will print a picture of the mascot, some will not. For those without a picture, I’m going to explain.
If you have a pic, just look at it. That’s the new mascot, the Sock. And yes ma’am, it does look like a big yellow sock pulled tight over a huge 36” long foot, with a red reinforced ring in the toes portion of the sock and red reinforced heel where the heel should be.
This is where it veers off track. The mascot has a cute face, super cute, under a baseball cap, two arms… because what would a mascot be without arms? But the sock, which is very realistic, looks just like a baseball sock EXCEPT… the foot portion of the sock is coming right out of the mascot’s crotch.
It’s a crotch-foot.
A crotch-foot. A three-foot long, rather girthy, crotch-foot. Folks, readers, do you get the picture?
Mr. Sock has morphed into “What have you got in that sock?”
We realize a crotch-foot mascot lends itself to a “Camptown” type song and maybe the designer was hoping for this although I doubt it:
“Crotch-foot Mascot, here he is.
Crotch-foot mascot, here he is
Crotch-foot mascot, here he is
Mr. Sock will scare the kids!
Doo-dah, doo-dah, day”
I’m not sure but you’d think that’d be a little embarrassing, in a phallic symbolism sort of way! Kiddos, you haven’t heard the half of it. Sit down, take a sip. Please!
I will go on, but it pains me to do this story because Amarillo is my favorite city in the entire Texas Panhandle and I know they’ve had their share of ribbing in the past. I like Amarillo but, inadvertently, Amarillo finds a way—it always does—to work its way into embarrassing situations.
Let’s set the scene. The Amarillo Sox of the American Association wants to trot out their mascot and, like all good promoters, they work to keep the uniform secret so that it can be revealed to the maximum number of fans on a special night with heavy attendance including families and children. Did they ever!
Well, they got it: heavy attendance, strong promotion, and the mascot under wraps until just the right moment. Mr. Sock was under wraps until time to expose him.
Was that the wrong choice of words, “expose him”?
I’m not sure but they did… and what they got was a creature with a cute face under a cap and three long foot sticking out from you-know-where.
I’m not saying it’s overtly phallic but on the east side of town folks are looking up at Big Tex, sadly, worried if he’s missing something.
Some say, hey, it’s Amarillo and they don’t call the canyon, west of town, the Palo Duro Canyon for nothing. Which if you know Spanish, Palo Duro means hard wood.
Need we go on? Sure we do. Down the road from Big Tex is a ranch with a bunch of Cadillacs sticking out the ground like an automotive phallic bonanza.
I’m not saying
there’s a connection but the Amarillo Sox’s new mascot didn’t help
Did I mention only the designer and a few others knew what the mascot looked like? It was like keep a secret, then voila’, the cover lifted, mascot runs around, big foot flopping, Palo Duro style, with all eyes glued… then popped… then covered.
According to the Amarillo Globe-News, Sox general manager Mark Lee said “If we offended anybody, I apologize.” Then he promised to revamp the costume.
I suggested all they had to do was show Mr. Sock a picture of my hair. And if that doesn’t work, a bucket of cold water. “Have you got a size 30 foot in there or are you just happy to see me?”
Embarrassing, perhaps? Just a bit?
Until this event, I always considered the famous Amarillo-very-prosperous-body cavity-search-recovery as the most embarrassing. Never heard of it? Amarillo’s finest recovered $ 8100 from a druggie’s backside, what we in the Southwest like to call “a buttload of money.”
The recovery made national police officer news, a new record for cash in a cavity search: eighty one hundred dollar bills plus two fifties. Don’t ask why the two fifties. Nor why, for the following year, every time someone was picked up jaywalking, they were told to spread ‘em.
That’s the embarrassing part, the force thinking you strike it rich once you might hit pay dirt again.
Perhaps Mr. Sock will make everyone forget about the perp and his Benjamins. I’m sure Ben Franklin would prefer everyone remember Mr. Sock over the perp.
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