Sports Mascots
Whilst watching a colourised re-run of the 1966 FIFA World Cup Final from Wembley on television recently, I began to think about mascots. Born in the late 1970s I have no memories of England's World Cup victory, but my father still has a denim cap with a cartoon lion on it wearing a Union Jack shirt. The lion was Willie, the 1966 World Cup mascot. He had been designed by artist and illustrator Reg Hoye and his colleague Richard Culley, and was then launched in 1965 at a press conference held at Football Association headquarters. The FA paid Mr Hoye a fee for his work and held onto the copyright of World Cup Willie. Willie was a merchandising success, appearing in newspaper cartoons, the pop charts, on television, and on various products such as tracksuits, tea-towels, mugs, toy drums, badges, jewellery, scarves, caps and packets of Shredded wheat. In the new London Museum in Smithfield there is a plastic World Cup Willie keyring. There is also a website dedicated to Willie.
Willie was the first World Cup mascot. He led the way in the creation of subsequent tournaments' official mascots and the merchandise of numerous products for the young and young-at-heart. An internet search of previous World Cup mascots reacquainted me with my youth: Naranjito, a smiley orange holding a football (Spain, 1982); Pique, a mustachioed jalapeño pepper in a sombrero (Mexico 1986); Ciao, a green, white and red stick figure with a football head (Italy, 1990); and Footix, a blue and red cockerel with a pointing finger (France, 1998). Footix's 'daughter', a chicken called ettie, was the 2019 Women's World Cup mascot. This summer we will see three mascots at the 2026 World Cup: Maple the Moose (Canada), Zayu the Jaguar (Mexico) and Clutch the Bald Eagle (USA).
Aside from the World Cup, the football team I support, Watford FC, doesn't have a lion or an eagle mascot, but it does have Harry the Hornet. A yellow and black coloured football club needed a similarly coloured mascot and Harry, a cartoon-like hornet insect, was born in the mid-to-late 1970s. He featured on pennants and scarves from the late 1970s and is emblazoned on a retro 1977 football shirt I have. The fluffy and furry costumed version of Harry the Hornet first appeared at a match in 1993 and, although his appearance has undergone some transformations throughout recent decades, he has been an ever-present supporter at matches. He can be seen and heard banging a drum, dancing in celebration of a goal, giving high-fives, entertaining children, posing for selfie photos, bringing some momentary escapism during a lull in play and energizing the crowd to support the team. He occasionally causes mild controversy: in 2018 the (former) Crystal Palace manager Roy Hodgson warned Harry against "disgraceful" provocation of Wilfried Zaha. The (former) Palace player was booked during a match for simulation (a deliberate dive to gain an unfair advantage) and Harry mischievously mocked Zaha by diving in front of him! Mr Hodgson said "I would be very disappointed if the Crystal Palace mascot was doing something like that to provoke the crowd against an opponent ... And if I found out about it, I would stop it."
Other British football clubs have mascots. For example, Gunnersaurus Rex (Arsenal FC), Chester the Fieldmouse (Chesterfield FC), Filbert Fox (Leicester City FC), Poacher the Imp (Lincoln City FC), Nelson the dog (Portsmouth FC), Pilgrim Pete (Plymouth Argyle FC), Captain Blade (Sheffield United FC) and Wrex the Dragon (Wrexham AFC). Each has its own unique identity. Kingsley, the Partick Thistle FC mascot, looks like a disgruntled, spiky thistle, but is based on the sunshine logo of the California-based hedge fund which supports the club. Some clubs, presumably as an act of inclusion, have two mascots. For example, Billy the Badger and Bella the Badger (Fulham FC), Rockin Robin and Robyn (Swindon Town FC), and Tommy and Tammy Trewblu (Gillingham FC). What many mascots have in common is that they are associated with something of honourable historic, cultural or regional significance, that a club wishes to be identified with (although Harry Gator, the alligator mascot for Harrogate Town AFC perhaps seems rather tenuous, as does Peter Burrow, the rabbit mascot for Peterborough United FC!) Often some aspect of the creature's personality or ability, such as strength, speed, courage or tenacity, is projected in the imaginations and hopes of the club's supporters, along with the club's stated values, ambitions and aspirations, via the mascot, onto the players in the hope that they are victorious. With regard to Harry the Hornet, it is his buzzing and stinging ability that supporters want to see embodied in the players' performances against opponents
Sports mascots have not always been costumed. We need to go back to the late nineteenth century and across the Atlantic, to delve into the beginnings of sports mascots. It was in American baseball during the 1880s when a boy named Chic, who carried bats and ran errands for players, became known as a team's good luck charm. According to an 1883 issue of The Sporting Life Magazine, "the players pinned their faith in Chic's luck-bringing qualities." By 1886 the Boston Browns baseball club had "a mascott", a boy named Little Nick.
Nor have mascots always been humans. American teams often used live animals as an emblem. Bears and birds of prey, for example, were used to entertain home fans and intimidate the opponents. Bevo, the Texas longhorn (a type of cattle), has been the University of Texas athletics mascot for more than a century. Handsome Dan, a bulldog, has represented Yale University's sports teams since the 1890s. Subsequent cattle and bulldogs are used to this day. An historic example of a British live animal mascot is Laddie, a large sheepdog in 1910, and Dido, a seagull, in the 1930s, both of whom were mascots for Exeter City FC.
It was during the mid-to-late 1960s when costumed sports mascots gradually became more prevalent. This appears to have been, in part, the influence of Jim Henson's creation of the Muppets. Friendly and funny puppet-like animal costumes had a certain attraction and appeal to children. For example, in baseball, San Diego Padres had the San Diego Chicken and Boston Red Sox's had Wally the Monster. Often these kind of mascots, as positive fictional ambassadors, would also prove a beneficial tool for the public relations, marketing and commercial interests of their respective clubs.
Alongside costumed mascots many British football clubs have for several decades offered a matchday 'child-player escort' opportunity, whereby children meet and accompany players onto the pitch. According to a Wikipedia article, this tradition began in Brazil, in 1976, by the public relations director at Club Atletico Mineiro. I appeared as a mascot for Watford FC as a young child in 1986, before the costumed Harry the Hornet ever graced, or dived, at the Vicarage Road stadium. Being young at the time, as I lined up on the pitch pre-match with John Barnes, Luther Blissett, Tony Coton and others, I did not know the origins of the sports mascot - specifically that I was, according to its historical background, supposed to be a lucky charm and bring the team good fortune. Watford drew 0-0, against Ipswich Town FC, on that occasion (29/3/86) and I carry no lingering guilt that I was to blame for the team failing to win. When my brother was a mascot in 1987 the result was also a draw, 1-1 versus Tottenham Hotspur FC. More recently, in 2024, when a nephew was a mascot, Watford lost 1-2 to Coventry City FC. I doubt neither my brother nor nephew feels any guilt. The 'child-player escort' opportunity is mainly for the child's benefit and enjoyment, and also provides income and increased support for the club among their family and friends. It is certainly not the occasion of a child or children becoming the scapegoat for a team's defeat and I don't think it ever was.
Perhaps this is because, nowadays, the association of a sports mascot and luck is less prevalent. The word mascot actually originates from the French mascotte (first recorded in 1867), translated as 'lucky charm'. In 1880 a French opera, La Mascotte, composed by Edmond Audran, featured an Italian farmer whose harvest was influenced by the visit of a mysterious virgin named Bettina. She was a good luck charm and turned the farmer's fortunes around. More information here. The Oxford English Dictionary (OED)'s earliest recording of mascot dates back to 1881. The notion of a mascotte bringing good fortune was then replicated in sports. More information here.
So it doesn't bother me that I was once a sports mascot, even though mascots were historically associated with, and symbolic of, luck. At the time I did not superstitiously believe my pre-match kick around in a replica kit on the pitch would somehow cause an improvement in the team's performance or increase the likelihood of a win. Forty years later, I am still not a superstitious person and the closest I get to thinking I may be able to improve the team's performance or result is by cheering and chanting, to inspire a team through vocal support, and also to clap. That said, I do believe there is an element of fortune that dramatises sport and makes it compelling. A shot ricochets off the underside of the crossbar and bounces just one centimetre over the goal-line; an opposition's prolific goalscorer is injured in the pre-match warm-ups; a batsman, having already been dropped several times by fielders in previous overs, is relieved to see the wicket-keeper inexplicably fumble the ball and miss a run-out; a table-tennis player wins a crucial point by hitting the ball onto the edge of the table; a tennis player's drop-shot hits the top of the net but dribbles over to secure a point. A player or team gets a 'lucky break', or they 'rode their luck', but eventually they find their 'luck' runs out'. When commentators or supporters use the expression "it's in the lap of the gods" I would call it fortune. I agree with Rynne & O'Keeffe that "The best coaches concentrate their attention (and that of their players) on the things they have most influence over, such as skills, preparation, and decision-making, rather than things they do not (like a coin toss, random bounces and deflections, poorly timed injuries or equipment failures) ... While skill and preparation are indispensable, the role of luck in elite sports is undeniable ... luck has almost certainly impacted all athletes at some stage of their careers ... luck adds an element of unpredictability, makes sports thrilling and, at times, heartbreakingly capricious". But I would still prefer to call it fortune.
When the apostle Paul once gave a defense before King Agrippa he said "I consider myself fortunate (mακάριος) that it is before you, King Agrippa, I am going to make my defense today against all the accusations of the Jews ..." (Acts 26:2, ESV). Other English translations also using fortunate include NIV, NLT and NRSV. The NCV uses "very blessed" and the NKJV "happy." Paul would have attributed the goodness and happiness of his fortune to God's providential blessing, rather than to his own efforts or random chance or luck. Applied to sports, I would say that moments of good or bad fortune (what a secularist might call luck) often balance out over the course of a match, season, tournament or career, which is all part of the divine providence of God, who is absolutely and supremely sovereign and whose good purposes prevail (Romans 8:28).
Last year, for the Catholic Church's Jubilee year, a fictional anime-inspired cartoon mascot called Luce was created by The Vatican to represent a Catholic pilgrim. Presumably this was an attempt to reach young people, particularly those who relate to and engage with the visuals of social media and anime culture. Though some controversy could have been avoided by Luce not being called a mascot (due to the historic associations I have mentioned above), I can see the reason why churches and denominations might use cartoon figures to appeal to young people. A church near where I live has some publicity for their children's work that features two heroic-like cartoon characters, wearing capes, with the caption "Come and join the fun!" I doubt the church believes these cartoon characters carry any spiritual power and I am confident its leaders attribute all spiritual power and blessing to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, in whom we find redemption and salvation (Ephesians 1:3-14).
World Cup Willie did not contribute to England's World Cup triumph in 1966. Watford FC's results will be the same with or without the buzzy influence of Harry the Hornet and the appearance of child mascots. But there is still something we can learn from all these ever-present mascots. They support and follow their team in good and bad times, during victory and defeat. They continue from generation to generation. They remind us that sport is a substantial but also trivial part of our lives. Playing and watching sport can be part of God's providential blessing, enriching us in body, mind and spirit, with health, social and spiritual benefits. In the words of Baptist theologian Robert Ellis, in his book The Games People Play,"sport is terribly important but also utterly unimportant ... Like play, sport is a kind of serious irrelevance" (p. 215, Kindle Edition).