THERE ARE 30 teams in the National Basketball Association—yet
the Portland Trail Blazers have something that no one else does. It’s
not Greg Oden, Brandon Roy, or a promising future of playoff
victories—it’s that goddamn trail cat.
The team’s mascot is a useless, fictional large-headed creature of
unknown origin that goes by the name Blaze the Trail Cat. With his
creepy erect tail that lurches out from his breakaway pants, Blaze is
an untrustworthy creature who frightens children and adults alike. An
abomination to the respectable tradition of mascots—from
slam-dunking gorillas in sunglasses, to vaguely offensive Native
Americans with spears and dreamcatchers—Blaze stalks the Rose
Garden like an annoying sitcom neighbor who arrives unannounced, and
then refuses to leave. His schtick—from Silly String to a
Segway—is the same tired routine, which might cut it in the
sticks, but fails to properly represent the fine tradition of NBA
mascotery.
But there is a solution. Portland’s rivals, the Seattle SuperSonics,
are on the cusp of relocating to Oklahoma City in the off-season. While
Seattle will be unfairly stripped of their team, and possibly the
Sonics moniker as well, this is a golden opportunity for the Trail
Blazers. Not to obtain Kevin Durant (or any number of Sonics players),
but to sign/buy/kidnap Seattle’s mascot, the enigmatic, charming, and
hairy creature known as Squatch.
When it comes to the delicate art of slam dunking a basketball while
being propelled by a trampoline, few do it better than Squatch. His
skills are vast and his mascot abilities are graceful and energetic,
yet still tactful and refined. He’s everything Blaze is not. Plus he
bears a strange resemblance to Teen Wolf, another mythical creature who
is capable of grand performances on the basketball court. And if
“Stiles” (or Channing Frye) wants him to surf atop a moving van, he’d
totally do it.
While I’m no historian of mythological woodland creatures, I do
believe with much conviction that the real Sasquatch is far more
likely to lay claim to the plush Oregonian woods than he is the condos
of Seattle’s U-District, or, God forbid, the dusty wastelands of
Oklahoma City. Just think what that dry air will do to Squatch’s
majestic mane of hair.
He belongs here.
I’m not saying Blaze deserves to be taken behind the old shed and
shot with the T-shirt air gun. He can mascot swap meets, RV shows, and
bar mitzvahs—but please, leave the basketball games to the
professionals dressed like Bigfoot. While their motto is “Rise with
Us,” this Blazers franchise is being weighed down by the classless
tomfoolery of a trail cat whose welcome is more worn out than Darius
Miles’. It’s time we set Blaze the Trail Cat free.
Portland, let’s bring Squatch home!
Right on!
Oh my god are you insane? You have obviously never been to a Blazer game as a true Blazer fan. Have you even read Blaze’s life story? I’m sure you wouldn’t even know where to find it. Blaze is an inspiration. How dare you. Why don’t you move to Oklahoma City?
Unfortunately, it looks like Squatch (or what lies beneath) is under contract to go to OKC:
http://www.basketball.org/mascot-addiction-hurts-us-all/
Blaze is a relic of the past: the weed smoking trail cat who was clearly modeled after Darius Miles. (remarkable resembalance don’t you think?)
Far from being an inspiration, Blaze dulls the senses and makes the team look more like a bunch of cartoon fools than the lean machine that they truly are. As a season ticket holder, one who sits in the nose-bleeds with the true fans, I know that “Blaze’s life story” is pretty lame: he’s a marketing tool dreamed up a fairly recently during the dark reign of Bob Whitsett.
Now the squatch fairly reeks of the northwest; a furry musty aroma of mixed hops, b.o., and the forest. Just imagine him decked out in Blazer gear sprinting toward the hoop for a monster dunk with his fur flying wildly- a wookie like roar as he throws it down and takes out the goofy Blaze who stands too stoned to even put up an ounce of D.
No, dump the cat and steal the squatch.