It’s an hour until game time.
While the Kansas University basketball team is suiting up in its locker room on the main floor, two other members of the KU athletics family are getting ready for the game in a closet on the third floor of Allen Fieldhouse.
Ross Jungers and Kate Eichten strip down to T-shirts and gym shorts, and then Velcro and zip themselves into padded, plush suits. They wriggle on yellow shoes, furry gloves and papier-mâche heads. They’ve drenched their costumes with Febreze, trying to get rid of the smell of sweat from previous games.
Jungers and Eichten are two of seven KU students who suit up as Big Jay and Baby Jay. Yet aside from their parents and a handful of close friends, few people are aware it is them.
“No one knows it’s you, so you can have fun dancing, rubbing bald guys’ heads — all the stuff that if you did it and you weren’t a mascot, you would get your teeth knocked out,” said Jungers, a three-year Big Jay veteran.
Ten minutes before tipoff, KU’s feathered finest cut a rug with the cheerleaders, pose for photos and give out autographs and high fives. They’ll do anything to get the crowd going.
“They’re the spirit of KU basketball,” said KU freshman Brian Altman, from his front row seat at the Nov. 21 game against University of Tennessee at Chattanooga.
Big Jay’s size-15 feet are large shoes to fill, but after three years Jungers can do it with no problem, eve though he normally wears a size 8 1/2.
“We’re representing the whole school, which is a little scary,” said Jungers, a KU senior from Prior Lake, Minn. “But after a while you just go and have fun.”
Good times aside, it’s still a lot of work. Mascots rehearse cheers, skits and improvisation on Monday nights. They also make appearances at alumni association events, weddings, bar mitzvahs and the occasional baby shower. But athletic event appearances are the most intense.
Eichten is drenched. Safely out of the public’s view in a locker room, she tugs off her costume head and chugs a bottle of water during one of several 10-minute breaks during the game. Her face is frighteningly flushed.
“By the time it is over, there won’t be a dry spot on me,” said Eichten, a senior from Overland Park who has played the half-pint hawk for almost two years.
It’s hard to see, too.
“I swear I run over at least one kid per game,” Eichten said. “It’s not intentional, but you can only see so much through that beak.”
The costume’s big shoes make stairs hazardous, as well. Hoglund Ball Park proved perilous for Eichten, who took a serious spill at a baseball game last spring. She rolled down bleacher steps in front of about 20 fans after tripping on her boot.
“It made the loudest noise,” she said. “I could hear students say, ‘Oh my gosh. Did you just see that? Baby Jay just bit it!'”
“There’s nothing cooler than a Jayhawk for a mascot because it’s a mythical bird. It’s immortal!” said Brad Liszt, a Minnetonka, Minn., sophomore who was at the KU-Michigan State game Tuesday.
Maybe that’s why they are so popular.
When the final buzzer announces the end of the game, Big Jay and Baby Jay wave the wheat and dance to the fight song one last time. Then they make a mad dash for an elevator. If they don’t hurry they’ll be swamped by people wanting autographs and pictures.
Once safely back in their third-floor nest, Eichten and Jungers wriggle out of their costumes as fast as they can peel them off.
“It’s a lot of smell and a lot of sweat, but there’s just something about seeing a kid smile seeing a Jayhawk for the first time, or a really old alumni light up when you sit down next to them,” Eichten said. “Mascots are these warm fuzzy creatures that make a lot of people really happy and that’s what makes my job fun.”