by Liz Dow
The Salvation Army bell seemed to ring louder that cold day, amplified by the antics of the Philadelphia Phillies mascot – the Phanatic – who was downtown to draw attention to the bell ringer. When his work was done, the large green Muppet-like character snuck away to his van, where, with the stealth of Spiderman turning back into Peter Parker, he would return to being Dave Raymond.
Mid-costume change, Dave heard a knock on the door. He normally ignored such knocks so as to protect the magic of the Phanatic. This time, though, he had an inkling that he should answer. He invited the middle-aged man in and asked how he could help.
The man said, “I feel like a coward today. My son had brain surgery yesterday. The doctors say that his prognosis is good, but he won’t wake up. I felt helpless watching my wife’s distress, so I stepped out to take a walk and clear my head. I saw your van and thought I’d ask you to walk back to the hospital with me and visit my son. We’re huge Phillies fans and maybe that would help.”
Without hesitation, Dave pulled the Phanatic costume back on and walked with this man, waving to fans in the street along the way.
The Phanatic stopped at the hospital room door and saw the listless boy, covered with gauze and tubes. His distraught mother sat attentively beside her son.
As the Phanatic walked closer, the boy popped up and yelled, “It’s the Phanatic!” high-fived him, and the two hugged. The mom yelped at seeing her son come back to life, and the father sighed triumphantly.
The doctors came in to say they were worried because they had not gotten the response that they were hoping for from the boy. They marveled that the Phanatic had triggered what medicine could not.
As the Phanatic snuck out of the room, the parents kept telling him how wonderful he was. “It was all so powerful,” Dave recalls, “but it’s not me, it’s the Phanatic. I’m just along for the ride.”
Dave’s metamorphosis into the Phanatic began in 1978, when Frank Sullivan, then Director of Promotions for the Phillies, asked the 19 year-old intern if he would be the new mascot.
The costume arrived on a crisp April day, as the Phillies prepared to take on the Cubs. When Dave pulled the fuzzy green creature out of the box, he fell in love. It fit perfectly, but as he pulled it on, he realized that he had no idea what to do next.
He walked into then Marketing Manager Bill Giles’ office and asked him for guidance. Bill paused and said, “Go out and have fun, because if you’re not having fun, the Phanatic won’t be funny. Yes – just have fun!”
Dave turned and loped away, ready to follow orders. He heard Giles add, “Wait a minute – G-rated fun!”
As he headed toward the field, Dave thought of the cartoon characters who made him laugh. “I’ll try to be frenetic like Daffy Duck. In cartoons, Daffy bounced off walls then would freeze next to someone and plaster a kiss on their face.” So the Phanatic stepped onto the field and bounced, paused, and kissed the fans. When he tripped and fell by accident, the crowd laughed, so he started to fall down on purpose. And thus, the beloved Phillie Phanatic was born.
Dave served as the Phanatic from 1978-1993. Bit by bit, he created one of the most treasured sports icons of all time. Though the Phanatic is the only one of his species, he has come to represent the best in ours. His youthful spirit and relentless enthusiasm transcend the boundaries of any stadium, which is one of the reasons he has been voted Best Mascot Ever, and is honored in the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York.
Dave still shakes his head in disbelief when, twenty years later, fans tell him how amazing he was. He demurs, “I didn’t feel like I was doing anything. It wasn’t false humility. It did not seem right to me to get accolades. I feel like I got too much credit – I zipped that costume on and had fun. It was such a joy and I was so lucky.”
During Dave’s most unlucky year, about ten years into this gig, he lost his mom, suffered his father’s anguish over her loss, and got divorced himself. He wondered how he would make it. Suddenly the magic that others felt in the Phanatic’s presence became real to him. The distraction of being the Phanatic saved him from despair. Any off-field grief faded away in the deafening cheers of fans eager to watch him ride victoriously onto the field on an ATV and hop off just in time to tummy check an opposing fan holding too much popcorn.
Dave turned the lessons he learned in the ballparks into a business dedicated to bringing fun into the workplace. He teaches executives about teamwork. “Distraction is the first lesson on the power of fun. Fun is important. It’s the most powerful arrow in your quiver for uniting a team, making tough decisions, and fighting heartache.”
Dave marvels that he has a career where his prime directive is to create fun. As far as he is concerned, he’s just continuing the ballpark job – minus the neon fur.
Thirty-six years ago, Dave Raymond donned a big green fuzzy costume and touched thousands of Philadelphians with his huge heart and extended hand (or wing…or whatever that is). Though he’s traded the furry suit for a business suit, he still creates wonder at work.
