The 76ers New Mascot: You Are Not Reading This

It’s the day after Christmas, so the chances that you are reading this have never been lower, even considering that I once wrote a post about letter spacing. So given that you are off doing meaningful things with your family instead of reading this, I’m going to take this opportunity to write about the new mascot of the Philadelphia 76ers. (That’s a basketball team, in case you were wondering.) (Basketball is the one with the bouncing orange ball, in case you were wondering that, too.)

The 76ers, named for the number of fans they have in attendance during each home game, have never been known for their sophisticated design sensibilities. In the early 1990s, Sixers player Charles Barkley said this about his team’s new uniforms: “They look like my daughter got ahold of some crayons and designed them.”

Recently, the team asked fans to vote on a new mascot to replace their old mascot, Hip Hop. Hip Hop, pictured above, is notable for being unbearably stupid, possibly the worst mascot in all of sports, and that’s saying something because there are a lot of bad sports mascots (all of them but two, by my count). Anyway, the three new choices the 76ers presented were not much better than Hip Hop. According to a story on ESPN, “A poll by the local ABC affiliate found more than half of voters opting for ‘None of the above.'”

The first choice is “Big Ben,” modeled after Philadelphia hero Ben Franklin, if Ben Franklin were played by a drunken Nick Nolte in a sleeveless undershirt.

Choice number two is B. Franklin Dogg (“The extra G is for ‘Gah, what is that thing?'”). B. Dogg is basically what you’d get if McGruff the Crime Dog and Poochy from the Simpsons got together and had a puppy.

The final choice is “Phil E. Moose,” who, if he is selected as the new mascot, will be the first moose within 300 miles of the city.

We talk a lot on this site about the importance of design decisions being meaningful. I’d argue that the three mascot options the Sixers presented failed precisely because they were not meaningful. The moose and the dog(g) really have nothing to do with anything related to basketball or the 76ers. And while Benjamin Franklin is iconic of the city, I don’t think anyone wants to see him belittled in a tank top or a circus costume.

Personally, I think it would be fine with most fans if the 76ers did not have a mascot at all, because, as I mentioned above, most mascots are terrible. The only two who are not unbearably annoying are the Phillie Phanatic (by far the best) and the San Diego Chicken (a distant second). Also, mascots in NBA basketball are a bit superfluous because any break in the action is filled with fans taking half-court shots for a lifetime supply of turtle wax, short guys doing weird acrobatic routines with trampolines and basketballs, and “dance” teams performing routines that make parents shield their children’s eyes

But if the Sixers are determined to have a mascot, I hope they’ll listen the growing legion of fans calling for the return of Muppet-ish guy Big Shot, pictured here, who was retired by the team in 1996. I’m not sure why he appeals to me. Must be that we have the same physique and hair color.

Now get back to your families. Happy holidays!

Got the fearin’, power steerin’ — Thoughts from Panama

The second-best part of my job as the art director for the National Association for Interpretation is having the opportunity to connect with interpretive professionals at conferences and workshops. (The first-best part of my job is Coffee Tuesday.) I’ve just returned from NAI’s International Conference in Panama, where I was extremely fortunate to spend a few days in an amazing environment with talented, interesting people from around the world—a welcome break from emailing with Shea all day.

As with anywhere I go, I had my camera at the ready.

I took this photo because I like capybaras. They remind me of the Rodents of Unusual Size in the movie The Princess Bride. However, much of the discussion about this sign has focused on the unusual letter spacing in the word ANIMALS. One theory is that the person designing the sign inadvertently wrote the Spanish ANIMALES and then didn’t close the space (or only closed it halfway) after correcting the mistake. My theory is that the designer incorrectly pluralized ANIMALS with an apostrophe, then read IBD’s Grammar Pet Peeves and yellowed-out the mistake.

These are both stupid theories.

Notice the nuanced communication in this sign. The iguanas appear to be smiling. This is because it makes them happy when people slow down instead of running them over.

I posted this on my personal Facebook page, and Friend of IBD Amy Ford commented, “So, does this mean to watch out for big AND little iguanas? Mom iguanas and their babies? I’m confused.” Then, about three hours later, she commented again, “I’m sure you put this up there for us to comment that they used some stock clip art, as well…didn’t even bother to flip them…just changed the size.”

Clearly, Amy is a tormented soul and gave this sign way too much thought—which, of course, we here at IBD love.

I thought at first that the bird in this tour operator’s logo was a rip-off of the Pittsburgh Pirates’ mascot, the Pittsburgh Parrot. But then I realized that there are only about 50 people in the world who have actually been to a Pirates game and seen the mascot, so that was unlikely.

The typeface in the logo is called Lithos, also known as the Jurassic Park font.

This was on my bathroom mirror. I like the interpretive message, “We are invading their territory. Please don’t destroy them.” I also like to think that as soon as this Photoshop collage was completed, the lizard ate that ladybug.

The conference included a visit to the future site of the BioMuseo, an amazing and elaborate facility designed by internationally renowned architect Frank Gehry, who was once called a “one-trick pony” by noted architectural critic and bow-tie aficionado Shea Lewis.

This was in front of a boat dock near the Panama Canal. It supports my theory that nothing says “Important, Authoritative Message” like a big Mickey Mouse hand.

I attended an off-site session to the indigenous Emberá village on the Chagres River. While everyone else was learning from and interacting with the extremely gracious and welcoming community members, I was taking photos of signs. It’s a sickness.

When I saw this sign, found at the indigenous community of Salt Creek, I was happy for the warning and turned to walk the other way. Of course, I was horrified when our guide and the rest of the group started walking down the trail toward the caimans—even more so when our guide started throwing sticks into the water to attract the caimans’ attention. I tried to explain that caimans are a lot like crocodiles, and everyone told me to shut up.

He went thataway.

Finally, Panama is a rich and rewarding visual experience, and to experience it at its fullest, you must sit across from Jeff Miller at the hotel breakfast buffet. This is some of the most effective camouflage I’ve ever seen.

Live from Australia: It’s a Giant World After All

If you are reading this on the day it is posted, I am in Australia and it is the day before the annual NAI International Conference. I am in a time zone 16 hours ahead of my home in Colorado (if you’re in Colorado and it’s after 8:00 a.m., it’s tomorrow for me) and I just (legally) drove on the left side of a two-way street for the first time yesterday. I haven’t used a toilet here yet because I heard that the water goes the opposite direction than what I’m accustomed to, and I don’t want to be around toilet water that flushes up instead of down.

The morning of our departure, I awoke to the voice of my six-year-old son Joel singing “It’s a Small World,” the refrain of one of the signature rides at Disney World. It features about 400 animatronic dolls representing different countries and cultures uniting as one to get that song stuck in your head. Suddenly, Joel stopped singing and in a raised voice, exclaimed, “Are you serious? It’s not a small world, it’s a giant world. We’re going to the other side of the world and it’s going to take three airplanes and two nights, SO YOU BABIES ARE WRONG!”

I think Joel’s right. Those Small World babies are wrong. Sure, some amazing advances in technology have facilitated instantaneous communication worldwide. In preparation for the NAI International Conference, I frequently had email conversations at the end of my work day in Colorado with people just starting the next day in Australia. There was half a planet covered in nighttime between us and we were chatting about the weather and who’s going to win the Australian “footy” championship. (Not really. I know nothing about the Australian Football League beyond the fact that the mascot of the Sydney team is the Swans.)

But even as technology increases our ability to communicate and spread communicable diseases, the world remains an enormous place. I think no matter what your profession, you gain perspective by visiting new places, getting out of your comfort zone, and trying to see the world from someone else’s point of view. And there are so many ways to accomplish this.

To Joel’s point, it’s a giant world after all. Sure, the world has gotten smaller metaphorically, but it remains literally a giant place. There’s so much out there to see and do. In communication-based professions like graphic design and heritage interpretation, it may not be enough to ask, How would someone across the street, across town, across the state, or on the other side of the planet react to this project? It may require packing a bag and going somewhere new. It’s hard to put yourself in someone else’s shoes if you don’t know what size they wear. (Either that’s really deep or I am more jetlagged than I think.)

Granted, it’s not always feasible to jet around the planet at will, but any opportunity to break out of your comfort zone is worthwhile and will enhance your perspective. Talk to a stranger on the bus. Eat at a restaurant on the other side of town. Wear a Mets hat (actually, scratch that one). Go somewhere you’ve never been and interact with as many people as you can.

As I adjust to autumn in April, spelling center as centre, and trying not to clip the sideview mirrors off the cars parked along the streets of Queensland, Australia, I may not fully appreciate the full value of the experience while it’s happening. But it is my belief that any experience that broadens my worldview—that helps me appreciate a perspective other than my own—is one that will help me grow as a professional communicator.

And now I have that song stuck in my head.