Joe Bruin, Stanford Tree walk the mascot walk

Published: Friday, October 31, 1997

Friday, October 31, 1997

STANFORD:

To say the least, the Stanford Tree is not the typical mascot. He won't be found play-fighting with a rival mascot. If he's fighting, he'll be brawling for keeps.

He'll never be found hiding beneath his mask. Rather, he'll be busy kissing hundreds of freshman girls while in costume.

And you'd never witness a generic tryout full of choreographed dancing and cheers. Instead he'll be baptizing himself in goat saliva just to impress the judges.

"The Tree is the anti-mascot mascot," said Matt Merrill, this year's edition of one of the most original, rebellious and flamboyant mascots in the country. "The thing is, the main reason people like the Tree is because he makes fun of other mascots."

The legend of the Stanford Tree had an inauspicious start 20 years ago when the school decided to change its name from the politically incorrect 'Indians.'

Left up to the student body, the name, "Robber Barons," was chosen to poke fun at the way the school's founder Leland Stanford earned all his money. The school's administration didn't find this the least bit humorous and the chancellor changed the name to the school color - Cardinal.

None too happy with the name change, Stanford's marching band took it upon themselves to create their own mascot, and the Tree was born.

Little did anyone realize at the time, but a new age in mascots was born. Since the band created the mascot, they retained the rights to it, resulting in no interference from the university in terms of its limitations and restrictions.

Consequently, the Tree often places himself in risky situations that "typical" mascots manage to avoid.

After last year's Big Game victory over California, the Tree was ripped apart, literally, leaf-by-leaf by Cal students. Then, during basketball season, he and Cal's mascot, Oski, got in an all-out brawl that was even given a blow-by-blow account on ESPN's SportsCenter. Pac-10 mascots have since been banned from traveling to road basketball games.

Merrill, however, has avoided any life-threatening situations so far in his reign that began in March but does admit to being attacked in "low-key events by other students from other schools."

And though he wouldn't reveal any plans for retaliation at Big Game Nov. 22, he'll be ready for any volatile situations.

"I'm going to have two professional bodyguards at Big Game with four friends and the women's wrestling team," he said.

Any embarrassment suffered during the reign of the Tree, however, is nothing compared to what one suffers through in the process of becoming the Tree.

Over the years, the process of selecting the Tree has evolved from a personal interview to a written application asking 12 questions and a week and a half of stunts by the candidates during class, passing periods or anywhere else. There's just one necessity - it needs to attract as much attention as possible from the five judges (the outgoing Tree and four members of the band).

Among the stunts, Merrill dressed like Spiderman and descended from the ceiling of an auditorium to save a damsel in distress during a showing of "Indiana Jones." He later duct-taped cotton candy all over his body only to have scantily clad women carry him on a throne then lick it off of him during a preliminary interview.

Then, to clinch the job, he rode on horseback into his final interview in nothing but briefs and was baptized in goat saliva.

"You're just trying to get the judges to see that you're fun, fun-loving," Merrill said.

However, another potential Tree just may have taken it a little bit too far. His friends rolled him up to his final interview in a giant container full of dog feces, in which he sat buried, breathing through a snorkel tube.

"It would have been kind of cool if he had won," Merrill said, displaying the true attitude of any Tree candidate. "But, since he didn't, well it was kind of disgusting."

Once the job is awarded, in a tradition that may only occur at Stanford, the mascot must create its own costume. As a result, the Tree changes every year.

"I look like the old Tree," Merrill said. "But, it's a better design. It's easier and lighter so I could move around faster."

For no other mascot is versatility such a concern.

But, whatever the costs of becoming the Tree and the risk you put your body in by fulfilling the job requirements, Merrill said it's well worth it.

"It takes up a lot of time, but it's great."

In addition to meeting Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder and various high-ranking politicians, the Tree gets more than a few perks - not the least of which is a guaranteed date every weekend.

A couple weeks ago, Merrill attended the annual "Full Moon on the Quad" - the school tradition where every freshman must kiss an upperclassman on the night of the first full moon of school.

"I kissed 265 women that night," he said. "They all want to kiss the Tree."

Just hope, for the girls' sake, there was no leftover goat saliva.