“Like Spiderman”: The secret life of the Blue Devil mascots

My quest to find out exactly who was behind the mask began on February 11, 2024. That day, the Duke-North Carolina women’s basketball game was being played at Cameron Indoor Stadium, and I was covering the game for The Chronicle. It was a thrilling 68-60 comeback victory in overtime for the home team, and I wrote my game report as quickly as I could. But someone kept distracting me.

Every time the blue devil walked past me, he would unplug my laptop. The screen would flicker, breaking my concentration and my writing would stutter. No matter what I did or how much I begged to be left alone, he would rip out the cable. The writer next to me thought it was funny, but it bothered me for weeks after the buzzer sounded.

Not because it was a particularly big deal – it was more a matter of principle. Someone, probably someone I knew, was anonymously messing with me. At that moment, I made it my goal to find out who it was.

Fortunately, the Blue Devil’s identity was revealed late in the year when then-senior Gavin Foley, a biomedical engineering major with a chemistry minor, wore the mascot’s signature blue cape at graduation. It was later confirmed that he was the one who caused trouble at the game.

This incident, and several similar encounters I’ve had at games as a journalist and fan, got me thinking: What’s it like to wear the suit? What are the Blue Devils experiencing? I chatted with Foley and also connected with a current student who wears the outfit at games, public appearances and the occasional commercial.

This person has chosen to remain anonymous due to the nature of their work and the high level of secrecy imposed on the Blue Devils throughout their time at Duke. Both mascots had plenty of new insights to share, along with anecdotes about near misses, crazy experiences, and commentary on the strange, hyper-exclusive club that these few select students in the cape and muscle suit belong to.

Become the Blue Devil

Foley is something of an anomaly in the Blue Devils world, having only played the role his senior year. His girlfriend, cheerleader and 2024 graduate Kendall Satcowitz put him in touch with cheerleading head coach Matt Feye and encouraged Foley to try out. One advantage in particular ultimately drew him in.

Foley and the other student disagreed about who exactly was allowed to know they were wearing the costume, but both stressed the importance of keeping their second identities hidden from the public. Foley had a harder time keeping it a secret since, as a senior, he was busy with applications, group projects, and all the other things that take up a student’s time. In the end, he had to tell his roommates, his parents, and some project partners.

“It’s a bit like being Spider-Man, it’s hard to hide it from the people you end up living with… And the rest of my guys. I actually kept it a secret until one of my other friends ratted me out, or until the spring,” Foley said. “Some of them didn’t know until after I told.”

Foley still had to make up stories to protect his identity. He would use his roommates to expand his web of lies, or blame missing games on a shift at one of his jobs as a bartender or sports supervisor. At away games, he would say he wanted to travel to support his girlfriend, who was often there as a cheerleader.

The student, who remained anonymous, found it a little easier to keep the secret, although he did say that some of his friends had solved the problem themselves.

“It’s pretty easy to just say, ‘Yeah, I’m super busy studying tonight,'” the student told The Chronicle, “… your close friends usually notice. They’re the ones who invite you.”

One character, several actors

Part of this mandatory secrecy stems from the need to portray the Blue Devil as a unique, cohesive being. An unknown number of people play the role each year, each with a unique background and set of idiosyncrasies they must be willing to jettison in order to create and support the unique character.

“I could look at any actor and recognize who it is, simply because I know them as a person and how it affects their movements,” said the anonymous student.

At first, there was certainly some adjustment and learning required to figure out exactly what the Blue Devil character does and doesn’t do. How he walks, how he acts in crowds, even how he poses for photos. Certain rules help to hold the personality together. Actors are instructed not to take photos with visible alcohol, to make sure no skin is showing on the wrists or ankles of the suit, they are instructed to sign the mascot’s autograph and, perhaps most importantly, to avoid holding babies if possible.

“We can’t hold babies, and that’s become a problem because (Duke basketball head coach) Jon Scheyer sometimes just gives you his kid,” the anonymous Blue Devil said. “I know Gavin (Foley) had to deal with that because he went to March Madness, and Scheyer just gave him his kid. There’s nothing you can do to say, ‘Hey, don’t do that. I know you’re the coach of Duke basketball, but we can’t hold babies.’ But the visibility in the suit is really bad, and the idea of ​​dropping a baby because maybe our gloves are too big or maybe we can’t see very well is not good, so we can’t hold babies.”

The otherness

One theme the mascot actors touched on was their sense of community, both with their current and former Blue Devils colleagues and with other teams’ mascots. Foley recalls filming a series of commercials with fellow Durham natives Wool E. Bull of the Durham Bulls and Eddie the Eagle of North Carolina Central for the Durham Chamber of Commerce.

“The three of us would just sit around the office and throw paper at each other. And they would film us doing silly skits. I think one of them was me throwing paper at Wool E. Bull while he was trying to work,” Foley said. “Or we would try to communicate on Zoom but we couldn’t speak, so we would use our hands. They did a lot of that. It was very ‘This is SportsCenter’-esque. It was a lot of fun.”

Foley and the other Blue Devil talked about the camaraderie between the various ACC mascots, all of which are played by students. Foley talked about hanging out with the other mascots at the ACC football championship and playing 7-on-7 football against local kids. The other student described a group chat where ACC mascots share common problems and funny moments unique to their industry, as well as an annual Secret Santa gift exchange between the performers.

Even between former and current Blue Devils, there is an open channel of communication. They refer to themselves as “The Otherhood,” a parody of the phrases “Brotherhood” and “Sisterhood” used by the men’s and women’s basketball teams. The mascot performers also run an Instagram account for the Blue Devils, which had to be recreated after one of the alumni lost the password for the previous account.

“Everyone cares so much about each other,” said the anonymous Blue Devil. “We constantly exchange tips and experiences because we become an outlet for this big secret.”

This is perhaps the most unique and exclusive community at Duke. Regardless of when they graduate or what games they perform at, each of the mascots has a shared experience that no one else at Duke understands. After conducting these interviews and learning some of the secrets and oddities of this group, I know who I’ll be watching a little more closely at football games and tailgates this fall.

Martin Heintzelman

Martin Heintzelman is a junior at Trinity and Blue Zone editor of the Chronicle’s 120th issue.