Back Then

The alum inside the 1990s “Spidey” mascot suit

I was the man inside the “Spidey” suit during the 1990s. I’m proud to say my teenage son now sports his own mascot uniform.

Father-son tandems can share a lot, from over-the-top fishing trip tales to advanced barbecue techniques and even names.

I share something a bit quirkier with my 14-year-old son, Nolan: The ability to nimbly navigate terrain with blinders on. A high tolerance for fragrant Febreze spray.

Both Nolan and I have worked the stands and playing floor as mascots. I donned eight fabric legs as Spidey — now WebstUR — in the late ’90s. Nolan carries a plush sword and shield into battle 15 minutes from campus for the Robious Middle School Raiders.

At his first basketball game, he hung out in the corner, a shy soldier reminiscent of the king’s guard standing sentry at Buckingham Palace. But Nolan soon gained some moxie, playing the sword like an electric guitar after a 3-pointer, working the crowd with high-fives, even knighting a friend or two. After the final buzzer, he was exasperated, jubilant, and thinking about what he’d do differently next time.

I knew this postgame ritual well. My first game as Spidey — a Family Weekend affair against Virginia Military Institute during the 1997 football season — also ended with a giant sigh of relief. The day was hot, and my red and blue cocoon was downright sweltering. Thankfully, every time we scored — which was frequently — I hopped aboard an ATV for a celebratory lap around the field and a quick cool-down.

But it wasn’t just first-day jitters and dehydration on my mind. It was the first-year VMI cadets, affectionately known as rats, who had developed a reputation that season for attacking opposing mascots. Rumors swirled that they had sent the James Madison University Duke to the hospital the previous weekend, then had it taxidermized for their trophy room.

I was assigned an off-duty cop for our game.

“My first game as Spidey — a Family Weekend affair against Virginia Military Institute during the 1997 football season ... ended with a giant sigh of relief.”

As the clock wound down, I put my guard down — and my actual guard went to get a hot dog. I spotted my parents and began walking toward them for an awkward embrace. But something obscured my vision: A group of sharply uniformed VMI cadets rushing my way.

With neither escort nor energy, I trudged forward as my folks looked on in horror. The cadets inched closer and closer until, like a scene from The Three Stooges, they tripped over one another and collapsed into a heap of shiny buttons and feathers.

I was safe. And I gave my folks that big, sweaty hug, too.

During the ride home after Nolan’s maiden mascot voyage, I told him the VMI story and a few others, grateful we had forged a bond in the peak of fandom and electrolyte depletion. And we exchanged the best fist bump. Ever.