On Thursday, March 27th, an orange fluff was said to be spotted in the trees between Blackwell and the Bell Tower Bookstore and Bistro. Concern for a new furry feline on Furman’s campus led onlookers to call the President of Palacats to set up traps. Given SGA took away Palacats’ main job (to feed animals), Mr. President told us he jumped at the opportunity to give this creature a new home. The next morning, Friday, March 28th, at 6:00 AM, he was surprised to find Clemson’s very own mascot in the cage.
Fast forwarding to 8:00 AM, a team of Paladin reporters and excited animal lovers sat eager to ask him some questions. Outside, a mob of Purple-Haze fanboys (and girls) stands angry, gnawing at the bit to get a piece of their rival. Even further outside, in Riley Hall, students get ready for something productive. Then, WAY further outside, a concerned Elizabeth Davis spits out her coffee.
“I just couldn’t believe it.” She tells us from her diamond-encrusted couch. Paid for by Furman donors. “The Tiger shouldn’t even be stepping foot… or is it paw?”
Time went by. And one by one, the reporters had to go to class. One by one, the Palacats members had to leave. And one by one, the sports fans realized they had to worry about responsibility for once, and left the premises. Luckily, The Horse doesn’t care about our responsibilities. 5 hours later, over a glass of milk, we shared a conversation about life, love, and what the future holds for The Clemson Tiger.
The first thing he told me was about the future…
“I just can’t do it anymore…” he told me. “Do you know how exhausting it is to pretend you’re still a football school?”
I nodded, knowing Furman’s record isn’t the best either.
“Dabo needs to stop the fluff.”
I chuckled a little. Fluff? Like come on!
“We lost to USC!!!” he roared. A faint yell from the last Purple Haze member and blonde Improv boy is heard. Reports said he scurried away. “He says we’re the underdogs again… I don’t want to be that anymore. I’m a cat, for Pete’s sake.”
“You were in the playoffs once!” I chimed in.
“We play in the Pop-Tarts Bowl. The Pop-Tarts bowl.”
“Look,” I reply. “I know your hopes are down right now, but there’s somewhere you can go…”
The room goes silent. So silent you can almost hear a freshman ask out a senior in the Paddock.
“Furman has some great academics, a good, semi-spirited student body, and some… well, I can’t lie, mediocre sports!”
“Better than our fanbase. We’re so annoying,” said the Tiger.
“Anything’s better than your fanbase,” I added. “No disrespect or anything”
He gives out a chuckle and smiles a little. Maybe this was the moment Furman gained a new mascot, a new semi-pretentious academic. This would’ve been the moment the Furman Tiger was born.
“I’d… love to,” he began to say until a helicopter roared overhead, and a grappling hook being controlled by Dabo Swinney shot down from the sky. Just like that, the Clemson Tiger was back in the hands of Clemson.
Reflecting on this day, I can tell you two things. Somebody save that tiger. Or at least somebody save that football program.
