Chuck Condor Clippers
Published: March 2, 2016
Chuck Condor Clippers, It’s taken more than three decades, but the Clippers have finally become a serious basketball operation with strong ownership, credible leadership, and real championship aspirations.
So what’s with that Froot Loops reject?
The Clippers have become an entertaining team with two of the best leapers in basketball, colorful guys who can fly, birds of a different feather known simply as D.J. and Blake.
So do they really need an ornithological nightmare named Chuck?
Fears of longtime Clippers fans were realized Monday when, entering the most important stretch of this very serious season, their Staples Center sky was cluttered with a floating representation of the bad old days.
Their championship drive has been interrupted by the addition of a cheesy mascot. Literally. He looks like a refugee from a children’s restaurant. His name is Chuck the Condor, but it should be Chuck E. Condor.
He was brought down from the ceiling at halftime Monday night to thunderous music and blank stares from Clipper Nation, which, as usual, shared one voice.
“What the . . . ???”
He’s supposed to be a California condor, which makes total sense because the name “Clippers” has long summoned the image of a large bird that lives on rotten carcasses. Or not.
His name is Chuck because, um, who knows? Maybe because Darrell was already taken?
With an oversized blue beak and frighteningly huge eyes, he looks like a son of Toucan Sam. Yet with a helmet, cape, and knee and elbow pads, he could also be Evel Knievel, which summons memories of a report last year that the Clippers were seriously considering a mascot bird named Seagull Knievel. So, yeah, it could have been worse, although you wouldn’t know it from the Internet, which has spent the last 24 hours raining down its disdain.
“Anybody know a therapist east of La Brea who specializes in coping with the new Clipper mascot?” tweeted comic Morgan Murphy.
“Elton Brand didn’t die for this,” tweeted rapper Vince Staples.
It’s only a mascot, nothing more than a fun thing for kids and a revenue spike for the team’s stuffed animal concession, and it probably wouldn’t be worth more than a sentence if it worked for almost any other sports team in any other town. But this being Los Angeles, and these being the Clippers, it becomes a story for the reason outlined by 15-year season-ticket holder JoLai Draper.
“I think it just gives people another reason to call us a joke,” she said.
It does, and that’s not fair, because the Clippers have never been less of a joke. They have spent a tumultuous season clinging to the fourth seed in the Western Conference despite the continued absence of star Blake Griffin. They could have crumbled when Griffin punched out assistant equipment manager Matias Testi, but they didn’t. They could have folded when it became clear that their two big off-season acquisitions, Josh Smith and Lance Stephenson, were busts, but they’ve only gotten stronger.
When Griffin returns from injuries and suspension, the Clippers could have the best chance of anyone in the West of dethroning the mighty Golden State Warriors. These days their fans watch them for the pure basketball, and were mostly stunned Monday when the Clippers acted like they still required an awkward sideshow.
“I was like, ‘Oh my gosh . . .” Draper said. “And I saw it and thought, ‘Why do we need a mascot?'”
As clear as the “213” on Chuck’s chest — are they still even giving out that area code? — there are several reasons the Clippers do not need a mascot.
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