Air Willie needs to lose some weight.
Or at least it seems that way as Willie the Wildcat, posing as a Speech junior dressed in a yellow t-shirt and shorts, struggles through the doors of the Ryan Field athletic-equipment room with the 80-pound red plastic box. In the box is his soon-to-be partner-in-crime — a 9-foot inflatable wildcat that will debut at this Saturday’s football game against Iowa.
His hair wet and sweaty from a night of sliding down bleachers and cheering at a women’s basketball exhibition game, Willie the Wildcat looks a little tired as he drops the box in the doorway. Keeping his identity secret and wearing a hot, fuzzy mascot suit all night has taken its toll on the Chicago native.
It’s not something he can’t handle, though. This mascot has been pumping up the crowds at Northwestern sporting events for three years now, and for the most part, he’s managed to keep his Clark Kent/Superman lifestyle secret. Some of his friends know, of course, and occasionally they try to take advantage of his fame by requesting Willie’s presence at their birthday parties.
He always declines the invitation.
“Man, I have to wear this Air Willie suit on Saturday, ” Willie says as he catches his breath and looks with slight disdain at the heavy box sitting at his feet.
It’s the Tuesday before Willie the Wildcat and Air Willie will meet on the field for the first time, and already the newest addition to NU’s mascot community is causing the original Willie some grief.
“Where am I going to try this thing on without everyone seeing me?” Willie thinks out loud, scrunching his eyebrows and pausing to ponder the question. As soon as he finds a secluded spot in McGaw Hall, he will step into the Air Willie suit, zip up and turn on the air.
Lugging the box, he winds past the basketball stadium to the practice court tucked away in the back of the building. Willie suspiciously eyes the journalists doing post-game interviews with NU women’s basketball players on the edge of the court but pauses only momentarily before cracking open the box. He removes a very deflated Air Willie and reveals the real culprit behind his back-breaking journey: four dense, shoe-box-sized battery packs in the bottom of the box.
“What are these?” Willie asks, pulling from the box a little white booklet filled with words and drawings — directions. He tosses them aside and digs out a battery pack, a web of straps and a vacuum hose 7 inches in diameter.
Sizing up the contraption that will bring the deflated mascot to life, Willie velcroes the battery pack to a thick belt. He wraps the belt around his waist, pulls a supporting strap over his shoulder, steps into the suit and turns on the power.
Slowly, the 9-foot-tall Air Willie comes to life.
He’s tall. He’s sleek. And he’s got his name emblazoned on the back of his purple Northwestern jersey.
Adjusting to his new feet, Air Willie lurches about the practice gym, waving his arms and bobbing his gray plastic head. He can wiggle his ears and nose, stick out his tongue and blink his eyes. Like a genius younger brother, Air Willie will be strong competition for the original Willie, stealing the attention away from his fuzzy older brother.
Or so I think until suddenly, the tables are turned, and the formerly soft-spoken Willie has convinced me to morph into Air Willie. I’m suddenly on the inside of the mascot’s world, the battery pack and vacuum hose that bring Air Willie to life tightly strapped around my waist, my feet stuck squarely in Willie’s oversized paws.
The real Willie is standing on top of the NU logo in the center of the practice gym, sizing up his competition and laughing as he decides to impersonate a little kid attacking Air Willie.
He charges toward me, head down like a bull, and I crash to the ground, my ears flopping and my laughter trapped inside the suit. Air Willie is the little brother that Willie the Wildcat always wanted — to beat up.
“Air Willie isn’t a replacement. He’s an embellishment,” Willie the Wildcat says as we leave McGaw. “We’re a tag team.”
