A Mascot for the Western Hilltoppers
Screen 1 of 5I grew up on a college campus. My mother taught music in Bowling Green, Kentucky, at a school first known as Western Kentucky State Normal School, later as a teachers college, and since about mid-century as Western Kentucky University; and until I graduated from high school, our small family lived in school-owned houses located on the Western campus--very early in an abandoned wooden gymnasium, next in a small frame house in Cherryton Village (named after President H. H. Cherry), and later in the "Rock House," scene of some stories yet to be told in this series.
In the early 1920's, all the' school's athletic teams were coached by Mr. Ed Diddle. During his first years at Western, this most extraordinary man, known by most as "Uncle Ed," coached football, basketball (both men's and women's teams), baseball, track, and tennis, with the help of only a few student assistants--one for each sport. There were no paid assistant coaches--just some unwanted volunteers from the community who from time to time came to team practices and presumed to "advise" Mr. Diddle on various aspects of coaching.
Ed Diddle was a kind and patient man--usually quite calm and quiet--but occasionally in his excitement and boyish enthusiasm while trying to make a point with those around him, whether athletes or not, he would come out with some unpredictable but quite quotable expressions ("Diddleisms" some called them) such as "be sportsmanship, boys, be sportsmanship."
On one afternoon early in the fall of 1923 (I remember the year because I was soon to be twelve years old) when I was watching the football team practice, Mr. Diddle came over to the sideline and asked me how old I was. Quite surprised by this sudden question, I told him I was twelve, even though my twelfth birthday was almost two weeks away.
"Hmm," he paused slightly, then continued. "How would you like to be the mascot for this football team?" Before he was quite finished, he was turning around to talk to the team's quarterback, Arnold "Winky" Winkenhoffer.
Not at all sure he was really talking to me, I said, "What is a mascot?"
He then told me, but only in bits and pieces, while he was telling the quarterback what play to call next. Just be here when I need you, he drawled; keep the water bucket filled; remind Paul Taylor (everyone called him "Horsemeat" Taylor) to wear his helmet, and be ready to call a doctor when somebody gets hurt.
That was about it. In today's terms, it was not a very good job description, but I understood well enough to know I wanted to be the team's mascot and work for this man I admired and respected. To be his helper would be just great, I thought. Of course, I knew I was not to be paid for being the mascot, but that fact did not dampen my enthusiasm at all. We never had much money in our family when I was growing up. My mother seemed always to be paid a very meager salary for her work as a teacher; but I was taught early in life by her that if you never do any more than what you are paid for, you'll never be paid for more than you do. I had not forgotten that advice, so I didn't even mention money to Mr. Diddle.
I thanked him but said I would have to ask my mother-- especially since he had suggested I might get to take an out-of-town trip with the team, "if you don't get too big for your britches," he had added, knowing full well that I understood what he meant. He also understood why it was necessary to get permission from my mother. Her reputation as a strict disciplinarian was well known on campus. Some of her friends thought she was too strict with her two sons.
When I asked her that night if I could be the team mascot under Mr. Diddle, she agreed but reminded me that I would still have to cut the firewood for our heating stove every afternoon after school, help wash and dry the dishes after supper, and prepare my lessons for the next day before going to bed each night. I readily agreed, because I had already been doing all these things, with some time to spare.
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