Beer Stud, also known as Eric Walker, cheers alongside Times reporter and temporary Bucs sidekick, Emily Nipps, er, Auntie Em.
Already decked out in face paint and clown suit, Emily Nipps touches up her wig.
TAMPA - With a steady hand, Big Bop took a red makeup pencil and traced a fat, greasy line from the side of my nose to my chin.
"Oh, that's good," Beer Stud said. "Now you look like something."
What I looked like was a clown. Really, an actual clown. I had on a full-body clown suit to go with my painted face and tangled wig, but after my first fumbling trip to the portable toilet stall, the clown suit had to go. I opted for a cape.
"How about a friend to go on your shoulder?" asked Big Bop, holding up a silver skull. "No thanks," I said.
You think these guys are just normal folks who love, love, love the Bucs? Guess again.
While other fans parked their Honda Accords and Ford Explorers, Big Bop and Beer Stud rolled up in a bright red school bus. While everyone else was eating sandwiches and sipping beer, Big Bop and Beer Stud were smoking a half-ton of ribs and drinking Cask & Cream.
And while some fans thought they were showing enough spirit with their Chucky shirts and Super Bowl XXXVII hats, that wasn't enough for Big Bop and Beer Stud. As long as I wanted to hang with them, it wasn't enough for me either.
"That's strike two," said Beer Stud when I claimed I didn't own any Bucs apparel. My first strike was that I was late. I arrived at the tailgate party at 9:35 a.m., three hours after the party started.
Danny "Big Bop" Bethel and Eric "Beer Stud" Walker, former roommates at Florida A&M, have been coming to Bucs games for nine years, dressing like freaks for six. They have season tickets somewhere on the third level, but haven't sat there in four years.
Sometime last season, Afroman joined them. "He's a stray," Beer Stud said. "We brought him in and cleaned him up. He looks like something now." So does Afroman's son, Lil' Fro.
Two hours before kickoff, we locked the bus and headed toward the stadium. As embarrassing as it felt to be walking around dressed in a cape and wig, it was comforting that I was by far the most invisible of the group.
"Whahsuuuuuuuuhhhhp!" Big Bop and Beer Stud screamed at every passerby, pointing their fingers and sticking out their tongues. They had a chant for everything. There was the Bad Boys chant for every time they saw a group of police. The "Virgin" chant for every first-time Raymond James visitor. The "You! You! You!" for every Saints fan who had the nerve to step on the pirate ship deck where Big Bop, Beer Stud, Afroman and Lil' Fro claim their space.
This was all fine and good, as much as I'm a nonyeller. It was even a little bit fun. At Raymond James, Big Bop and Beer Stud are celebrities, and for the day, I was their sidekick, Auntie Em.
And for a day, I could imagine what it felt like to be one of those costumed Mickey and Minnie characters at Disney World, only for adults. Husbands wanted to take pictures of their wives standing with us. Some fans snapped photos from afar, others just stood and gawked.
Kids walked up to shake our hands. ("Hey, you're bringing your kid up right!" Beer Stud must have yelled to 20 different parents.) Stadium workers wanted to chant with us. New Orleans fans wanted to heckle us, though Beer Stud and Big Bop could probably outretort anyone.
The only fans who got as much attention were fellow regulars Elvis and Big Nasty. Big Nasty was joined by J.C. Nasty and Steve Nasty, and they waved hello as they passed.
"It's like a fungus, ain't it?" Big Nasty asked me, referring to my new look. "It just happens."
Maybe it was the fact that I was working. Maybe it was the broiling heat on the deck. Whatever it was, it was losing its novelty fast, and the game hadn't started.
By the time it did start, my wig began to itch. My makeup was smeared and my face hurt from smiling for the cameras.
Somewhere below me, I heard a soft sobbing. It was Lil' Fro. Someone had spilled beer in his eye. Slowly, wasps began swarming from underneath the deck, where they must have had a home. One by one, I watched each wasp get stomped or swatted.
Oh, and the Bucs were losing.
I'd had enough.
Thank goodness there are people out there like Big Bop and Beer Stud who love to do this every Sunday (including Bucs road games), in addition to their appearances at elementary schools and Miller Lite photo shoots.
This unofficial mascotting is a dirty job, but there's a reason these people do it. You think they're just normal folks who love, love, love the Bucs? Guess again.
