I enjoyed the article featuring some of my fellow Tiger mascots.
In the fall of ’65, I had the dubious distinction of following the previous year’s great, inimitable tiger, Graham Findlay ’66, whose hilarious halftime antics I tried and miserably failed to emulate. Perhaps the closest I came was at the home game against Penn, a warm day when I discovered too late the inadvisability of imbibing a few beers before donning the sauna-like tiger outfit. That may have been why, as the band formed a mattress on the field while playing “A Hard Day’s Night,” I found myself in the middle of the formation trying some gyrations which might have made sense if I’d remained upright but seemed to capture unusual notice in the sellout crowd since I was prone as I went through my limited repertoire of dance moves. As I returned to the sidelines at halftime’s conclusion to what seemed like thunderous applause, the head cheerleader, Phil Handy ’67, asked me if I had any idea of what I was doing out there. The truth? Not a clue.
The epilogue came a few days later, when Dean of Students William Lippincott, ‘41 “invited” me to his office to tell me about all the angry letters about my unseemly antics he’d received from irate alumni. He told me I’d likely have to write an apology in the PAW, to which I replied that I agreed that I probably should do that, except, as I explained to him, “The Tiger never apologizes.” He laughed and shooed me out of the office.
I enjoyed the article featuring some of my fellow Tiger mascots.
In the fall of ’65, I had the dubious distinction of following the previous year’s great, inimitable tiger, Graham Findlay ’66, whose hilarious halftime antics I tried and miserably failed to emulate. Perhaps the closest I came was at the home game against Penn, a warm day when I discovered too late the inadvisability of imbibing a few beers before donning the sauna-like tiger outfit. That may have been why, as the band formed a mattress on the field while playing “A Hard Day’s Night,” I found myself in the middle of the formation trying some gyrations which might have made sense if I’d remained upright but seemed to capture unusual notice in the sellout crowd since I was prone as I went through my limited repertoire of dance moves. As I returned to the sidelines at halftime’s conclusion to what seemed like thunderous applause, the head cheerleader, Phil Handy ’67, asked me if I had any idea of what I was doing out there. The truth? Not a clue.
The epilogue came a few days later, when Dean of Students William Lippincott, ‘41 “invited” me to his office to tell me about all the angry letters about my unseemly antics he’d received from irate alumni. He told me I’d likely have to write an apology in the PAW, to which I replied that I agreed that I probably should do that, except, as I explained to him, “The Tiger never apologizes.” He laughed and shooed me out of the office.