June 5, 2011 by David Gillaspie
You see it in a dream, a blazing gold field surrounded by green.
It can’t be real, but you see it as if from a car window.
It’s an Oregon Football field, you know that much, a field of dreams to call your own.
Invite them all, the greats and their teammates. It’ll take them, and then some, to play well against the LSU Tigers.
In the world of NCAA Tigers, the LSU Tigers have their own special place. Mike The Tiger makes sure the space remains LSU and only LSU.
A tiger as a mascot is one thing. Having a tiger as a mascot, as well as keeping a real tiger on campus near the football stadium is something else. When it’s Mike The Tiger, the greatest tiger you’ll ever see, a tiger that makes Siegfried and Roy‘s tigers look like sissy cats, go to Plan B.
You’ve lost the mascot game before it even starts.
This is the tricky part. Losing the mascot game to the LSU Tigers after losing the natty to the Auburn Tigers is bad mojo.
You need a nap.
Go ahead and lean back. Breath slowly.
You see a blazing gold field surrounded by green, but there’s something else.
Out on the field it’s Mike The Tiger. He stops and takes a tiger dump. Then does it again and again.
No one steps out of the trees to save the field. Not Norv Turner or Norm Van Brocklin. Not Bobby Moore or Jeremiah Masoli. You wouldn’t either. Mike The Tiger is more than fearsome. He is the true King of the Jungle. Once you’ve see him jumping around in his cage at LSU you understand why you stand no chance.
But you step out anyway. It’s your field of dreams, not some cat box.
Mike, like all ordinary cats, pounces on you and bites your head while tearing your guts out with his speed-bag quick hind leg claws. You’re alive in the dream, but messy. He clamps on your head with his vice-like jaws to keep you in range for maximum claw shredding while he does burn-outs on your abs.
In the dream, you have a headache. Then you hear crunching sounds.
You see yourself stand up, your head unbroken and whole, your intestines back to normal, while Mike The Tiger rolls across the golden field surrounded by green.
Mike roars and spits.
He jumps and rolls and roars and spits.
Mike thows himself on the ground in a tiger-heimlich move.
Something ejects from his throat before he disappears into the woods.
You move into the golden glow covering your field of dreams surrounded by green.
You see something looking back at you.
You lean forward and SNAP.
You’re awake and find this in your hands.
You read the tag on the back hanger:
“Made from Oregon Doug Fir bark and Golden Duck bones, VooDoo Duck is the missing link to a championship run. Secure one mask for each game. Inquire for price.”