See Major Tuddy in all his glory. Image: Getty Images
For 90 years, the Washington Commanders have been one of four NFL franchises to exist without a mascot. The Jets, Giants and the Packers are the other three. As part of the organization’s complete branding makeover, Commanders began fan voting for a new mascot, and in September the nominees were narrowed down to either a pig or a dog.
Ultimately, the pig won the popular vote, but the fix was always in. It was a nostalgic nod to their 1980s Hogs offensive line that propelled the Commanders to three Super Bowl titles and inspired a devoted cult of cross-dressing fans called The Hogettes, who have been donning pig snout masks and garden party hats every week for thirty years decorate your head.
Washington’s Contemporary Braintrust introduced Major Tuddy to their fanbase on Sunday. Rather than evoke pleasant memories, Major Tuddy is a reminder of the lost halcyon era of Jack Kent Cooke before the Commanders collapse.
A pig in a battlefield helmet is an unintentional metaphor for the current state of commanders. The office environment is a mess, Congress has been investigating, and the DC Attorney General has filed a lawsuit. A process server would have been a more appropriate mascot.
Look at the beaming pig. He’s too happy. Luckily, Tuddy seems unaware of the maelstrom he’s been pushed into the middle of. These aren’t just the rants and rants of someone despised by two decades of a ruinous organization.
As usual, Dan Snyder can’t even bring out a fictional pig mascot without dodging lawsuits. The mascot won’t survive the eventual purge of all things Snyder anyway. Reportedly, O-Line Entertainment LLC, founded by Joe Jacoby, Mark May, John Riggins, Fred Dean and Doc Walker, owned two brands for Hogs and Original Hogs.
In response to the upcoming announcement of the mascot, O-Line attorney Seth Berenzweig told Front Office Sports last week: “If they go ahead on Sunday and make the pig their mascot and try to brand it, we will.” forced into trademark infringement proceedings.”
Major Tuddy appears to have been specially designed as a visual dopamine in a stadium that feels like it’s been inundated by Snyder’s volcanic ash. Unfortunately, Major Tuddy also debuted in the middle of a three-game losing streak that officially knocked the Commanders out of the postseason race, much to Ron Rivera’s surprise. Worst of all, instead of going down with Taylor Heinicke’s dismal run, Riverboat Ron subjugated paying ticketholders at FedEx Field to the quarterback styles of Carson Wentz and his troika of interceptions.
Even the fact sheet on Tuddy is worrying. He is reportedly 6-5, 230. Was Dr. Ronny Jackson his doctor? With those powerful love handles and that round belly bursting out on each side of his mid-length jersey, Homey must weigh at least 280 pounds.
There’s something creepy about the dead eyes of most mascots. There’s an art to creating a look that doesn’t make you suspicious of what he’s up to or making a goofy fool who has a cheesy grin on his face when the home team is three touchdowns behind in the fourth quarter.
Seattle’s Blitz the Seahawk is a frighteningly serious bird that looks like it’s pricking an eye. A half-smiling, half-taunting mascot like the Eagles’ Swoop is a reassuring presence. Viktor from Minnesota would probably suit the commanders better. His thoughtful face has such a great rage of emotions. He’s either genuinely happy, like he’s just had a Scandinavian beer, or seems to be processing some recent trauma.
Unfortunately, Major Tuddy is destined to be pork chops one day. Hopefully Snyder will beat him on the exits. While Snyder keeps his promise to finally sell the distressed asset he damaged.