clock menu more-arrow no yes

Filed under:

An Open Letter To The People Of Syracuse From The Bull












Well hello there fine people of Syracuse.

Thought you got rid of me? Think again. You ever hear of the saying you play with the bull you get the horns? Well, consider the horns gotten.

Is it me? Everywhere I go this seems to be the case. My first gig was as a mascot for the Class A Wabasha Hornies. Everyone got all riled up, and over what? Our slogan? "Hey Moms, Dads and Kids...Get Horny?" Hell, that's damn catchy.

And then there was my brief stint with the Canadian youth hockey team, the Nova Scotia Mad Cows. How were we supposed to know there was a disease? Free Raw Beef Night was a bad idea in retrospect but at least we were giving back to the community in some form.


But you know what, I talked myself into coming here, thinking it'll be different this time. "Oh don't worry, George, the good people of Syracuse will get you. They'll understand where you're coming from."


Guess not.


I thought our intention was crystal clear. We wanted to reach out to the Syracuse community with a fresh and invigorating idea by co-opting the success of Chicago's team. Was that so hard for you to understand, you automatons? What, just cause your college mascot is a pansexual conformist who doesn't stand for anything you think every mascot in your city needs to be the same way?


As far as your kids are concerned, I had only the grandest of intentions. I wanted to teach them and befriend them. Make them understand than in this world, you can work together and unite under a common goal. And if that common goal includes beating the snot out of someone weaker than you for some loose change so you can buy another Almond Joy from the snack machine, well at least it would be something they did
together.

It's so easy to pin the tail on the bull, no pun intended, isn't it? Your kid beats up another kid, blame the giant bull. The rent money goes missing from your dresser, blame the bull. You get harassing middle-of-the-night phone calls at 3am from my phone number, blame the bull. Yeah, I know you reported me to the cops, Linda. I'm not through with you. Watch your back.


So fine, I'll leave. I'll get out of your way so you can build a brighter future for your children. I'm sure you think that your offspring will be better served by a giant, unnatural Net, a hulking Sentinel hellbent on destruction or a Snow Baller, which, I truly wonder if you people know what you're getting yourselves into with that one. But let me tell you this. If you choose Bullz, don't come crying to me. So help me God if I get one phone call asking me to come back and mascot for you people. We're through. Done. Finito. The Bull has left the building.


Unless the new gig comes with dental. Then...I'll listen to the offer.


Otherwise, I bid you farewell Syracuse. I hear the AA Rocky Mountain (Colorado Springs) Oysters need some help pumping up the crowd. You'll know where to find me.


-George T. Bull