My quest to figure out who exactly was behind the mask started Feb. 11, 2024. That was the date of the Duke vs. North Carolina women’s basketball game in Cameron Indoor Stadium, and I was covering the game for The Chronicle. It was a thrilling 68-60 comeback win in overtime for the home team, and I was writing my game story as quickly as I could. Someone, however, kept distracting me.
Every time the Blue Devil walked past me, he unplugged my laptop. The screen would flicker, pulling me out of my focused state and my writing stuttered. No matter what I did or how profusely I begged to be left alone, he would yank the cord out. The writer sitting next to me got a kick out of it, but it still bothered me for weeks after the buzzer sounded.
Not because it was a particularly big deal — it was more the principle of the matter. Someone, presumably someone I knew, was messing with me in anonymity. At that moment, I made it my goal to figure out who it was.
Fortunately, the Blue Devil’s identity was revealed at the end of the year, when then-senior Gavin Foley, a biomedical engineering major with a minor in chemistry, walked at graduation wearing the signature blue cape of the mascot. I later confirmed that he had been the one causing trouble at the game.
That incident, along with a few similar interactions I’ve had both as a journalist and a fan at games got me thinking: What is it like to be in the suit? What do the Blue Devils experience? I reached out to Foley to chat, and also got in contact with a current student who dons the outfit for games, public appearances and the occasional commercial.
That individual elected to remain anonymous due to the nature of their work and the high level of secrecy that is stressed to Blue Devils throughout their time at Duke. Both mascots had plenty of novel insight to share, along with anecdotes of close calls, crazy experiences and commentary on the strange, hyper-exclusive club that those select few students in the cape and muscle suit belong to.
Becoming the Blue Devil
Foley is somewhat of an anomaly in the world of Blue Devils, having only played the role during his senior year. His girlfriend, cheerleader and fellow 2024 graduate Kendall Satcowitz, connected him with head cheer coach Matt Feye and encouraged Foley to try out. One benefit in particular finally pulled him in.
“[Feye] said that when you graduate, you get to wear the cape on your back as you walk across the stage. And upon hearing that there were no other seniors, I really wanted to be the only one wearing a cape,” Foley said.
Both Foley and the current student expressed how much it meant to them that they were able to represent Duke in such a unique and important way. The student I spoke to also cited how much fun it is to light up faces when they walk into a room, row of stands or tailgate wearing the costume.
“Where else do you get to become someone else and bring so much joy?” the anonymous Blue Devil said. “When people see the mascot, it's like, ‘Oh, shoot. Look who's here! And can we get a photo?’ It's just so special.”
Secrets kept
Foley and the other student disagreed about exactly who was allowed to know that they wore the costume, although both emphasized the importance of keeping their second identity hidden from the general public. Foley had a harder time keeping it a secret as a senior busy with job applications, group projects and every other thing that takes away from a student’s time. He ended up having to tell his housemates, along with his parents and some project partners.
“It's kind of like being Spider Man, it's hard to keep from the people you end up living with … And then the rest of my guys, I actually kept it a secret until either one of my other friends ratted me out, or until spring,” Foley said. “Some of them didn't know until after I had revealed it.”
Foley still had to make up stories to protect his identity. He used his housemates to expand his web of lies, or blamed missing games on a shift at one of his jobs as a bartender or intramural sports supervisor. For away games, he would say he wanted to travel to support his girlfriend, who was often there cheerleading.
The anonymous student has found it a little easier to keep it a secret, although they still said that some of their friends have sorted it out themselves.
“It's pretty easy to just be like, ‘Yeah, I'm super busy with studying tonight,’” the student told The Chronicle, “ ... your close friends tend to figure it out. Those are the ones who tend to invite you out.”
One character, multiple performers
Part of that mandatory secrecy comes from the need to present the Blue Devil as a singular, cohesive entity. An unknown number of people play the role every year, each of them with a unique background and set of mannerisms, which they must be prepared to throw out the window to help create and support the singular character.
“I could look at any performer and be able to see who it was, just because I know them as a person, and I know how that translates to their movements,” the anonymous student said.
It certainly took some adaptation and learning at first, sorting out what exactly the Blue Devil character did and didn’t do. How he walks, how he behaves in crowds, even how he poses for photos. Specific rules help keep the persona together. Performers are told to avoid taking photos with alcohol visible in them, ensure that none of their skin is visible at the wrists or ankles of the suit, taught to sign the mascot’s specific autograph and, perhaps most importantly, to avoid holding babies whenever possible.
“We cannot hold babies and that has become an issue, because [Duke basketball head coach] Jon Scheyer will sometimes just hand 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 would just hand him his kid. There's nothing you can really do to be like, ‘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 Otherhood
One thing that the mascot performers touched on was the sense of community they feel, both with their current and former fellow Blue Devils as well as with the mascots of other teams. Foley recalls shooting a series of commercials with fellow Durham mascots 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 just sat around the office, like throwing paper at each other. And they filmed us doing stupid skits. I think one of them was me throwing paper at Wool E. Bull while he was trying to do work,” Foley said. “Or we'd be on a Zoom trying to communicate, but we can't talk, so we're using our hands. They did a bunch of those. It was very, ‘This is SportsCenter’-esque. It was very fun.”
Foley and the other Blue Devil discussed the camaraderie between the different ACC mascots, all of which are played by students. Foley talked about hanging around 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 struggles and funny moments unique to their line of work, as well as an annual secret santa gift exchange between performers.
Even amongst just former and current Blue Devils there is an open line of communication. They’ve come to refer to themselves as “The Otherhood,” a parody of the “Brotherhood” and “Sisterhood” lines used by the men’s and women’s basketball teams. The mascot performers also run an Instagram account for the Blue Devil, one that had to be created anew after the password for the previous one was lost with a graduating performer.
“Everyone cares for each other so deeply,” the anonymous Blue Devil said. “It's sharing tips all the time and all the experiences, because you kind of become each other's outlets for this big secret.”
This may be the most unique, exclusive community at Duke. Regardless of when they graduate or what games they perform at, every one of the mascots has a shared experience that nobody else at Duke understands. After conducting these interviews and learning a fraction of the secrets and oddities that this group shares, I know who I’ll be watching just a little bit more closely at football games and tailgates this fall.
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Martin Heintzelman is a Trinity junior and Blue Zone editor of The Chronicle's 120th volume.