I am not a footy girl in any capacity, except that I enjoy getting pissed on overpriced beer and screaming at men in tiny shorts for hours on end.
I don’t support any team, and instead will just wear whatever scarf my mates force upon me when we go to a game.
I have absolutely no authority to judge any teams on their technical abilities, and I don’t even understand the rules of the game. Not a fucking clue.
But what I am good at is forming sordid opinions about anthropomorphic figures, as evidenced by my thorough analysis into which Neopets are the hottest. For this reason, and this reason alone, I believe I am the perfect candidate to assess the rootability of footy club mascots. If there are any objections, I don’t care. Sorry!
Adelaide Crows
Claude “Curls” Crow has the evil, beady eyes of a teenage boy who would challenge you to a game of Dance Dance Revolution at Timezone, but because he’s a freak, he would sabotage you. Maybe he’d put butter on the arrows on the floor so you’d stack it mid-dance. I’m not even sure if that game still exists, but for the purposes of this story, it’s in operation.
The point I’m trying to make is he would stop at nothing to see you fail because, with God as his witness, he wants those fucking game credits. He’ll even drive over your arm with a bumper car if he has to.
Claude is so dedicated to winning that the concept of sex probably doesn’t even cross his mind. He does not caw for human touch, but instead the power that comes with staging a coup at Timezone.
Brisbane Lions
I know Bernie “Gabba” Vegas has retired, but fuck-a-doodle-doo he was sexy. There’s something about those big paws, the guernsey with a deep v-neck and the Elvis Presley-inspired pompadour that really does it for me. I’m on all fours for him, and I’m not ashamed to say it.
But now we have Roy the Lion who is somehow … even sexier, rugged and more powerful? Even the way he’s holding that wee magpie has me roaring up a storm, and that’s coming from someone who can’t watch a documentary about the animal kingdom without sobbing every 10 minutes.
And there’s also Auroara the Lion with a cute lil’ bow and frullet situation? Is she … a pop punk queen who froths a bit of Paramore? So many questions, so little time.
All I know is whoever designed the Brisbane Lions’ mascots went to the Zootopia School of Hot Animal Design (Nick Wilde the fox, that random tiger on the subway, et cetera).
Carlton Blues
I can’t share my true thoughts and feelings about Captain Carlton and Navy Nina because you can literally see the faces of the people beneath the costumes.
That would just be rude of me, wouldn’t it?
Collingwood Magpies
What muscular legs you have, Jock “One Eye” McPie. And such sultry, intoxicating eyes.
Although he’s undeniably handsome and debonair, there’s something about Jock which makes me think he’s all talk, no action. I don’t think a night with him would have you flapping your wings in ecstasy, so to speak.
Essendon Bombers
I’m finding it a bit hard to read Moz “Skeeta” Reynolds. Part of me thinks he’s a harmless consultant who went to a private school, but it didn’t break his brain. Rather, it just made him a bit awkward and shy ‘cos he has no experience talking to women.
But another part of me fears he’s been cancelled one too many times in Brunswick, thus he’s been forced to move to Berlin to rebrand.
It could go either way, but ultimately he slays in bed. From the silly little antennas to the big hands, he’s got hunk o’ spunk written all over him.
Moz could muzz my buzz any day of the week, and that’s that.
Fremantle Dockers
Johnny “The Doc” Docker’s hair is giving Kraft Singles with just a hint of There’s Something About Mary thanks to that one erect strand. Personally, I’m not feeling it.
Maybe he’s for those who prefer a shaggy surfer who looks like he’d refuse to take antibiotics to treat his dormant chlamydia, and would ask you to transfer him for the one (1) banana you ate at his house.
This man roots, but he does not do it well. He will haphazardly finger your labia and then you’ll have dull, unsatisfying sex for approximately two minutes and 48 seconds. He’s already booked your Uber and wants you out of his sharehouse, which has nine other men living in it.
Geelong Cats
In order to understand the desirability of the Geelong Cats’ mascot, one must watch the following TikTok.
Is he objectively awful? Yes. Would I root him, just to find out what those cheeks do? Also yes.
Gold Coast Suns
Sunny Ray and Skye look dogshit, sadly. Nothing more, nothing less.
They also don’t know what sex is, probably.
Greater Western Sydney Giants
I don’t know how else to say this but G-Man reminds me of Lynette Scavo’s eldest sons in Desperate Housewives.
I present photographic evidence of Porter and Preston Scavo below.
Like — are we all seeing this? G-Man has absolutely driven all the other mascots residing in Mascot Manor up the wall, and now they’re all taking Ritalin to cope (real Desperate Housewives fans know what I’m talking about).
Of course, the physical connection to Wisteria Lane’s most annoying twins raises some questions about G-Man. Has he also been having an affair with a married real estate agent, or unknowingly fostering a friendship with a teenage serial killer? Only time will tell!
But for now, if he gets within 10m of me I’m notifying the authorities.
Hawthorn Hawks
Here we have Hawkette and Hudson “Hawka” Knights languishing like bohemian layabouts on a car, for some reason.
It’s good to see that they’re getting work after starring as Chuck (the yellow one) in the Angry Birds flick. But are they rootable? It’s a no for me and their Homer Simpson stubbles, which I’m presuming are meant to be beaks.
Melbourne Demons
Look, I’m just gonna say it: the AFL needs to stop with the human-looking mascots. They always look disturbingly weird, and Daisy and Chuck are no exception.
She’s giving “lovechild of Pippi Longstocking and Bobo the clown” thanks to the sheer size of her feet, while he looks like a problematic Big Brother contestant circa 2004. He probably made a series of misogynistic comments and the producers were forced to intervene.
Anyway, she’s not a rooter, but he is. Apparently there are more Melbourne Demons mascots, but I refuse to entertain them because of the whole human lookalike thing.
North Melbourne Kangaroos
Given how much I’ve been foaming at the mouth for all the animal mascots, you’d think I’d be a fan of Kanga and Ruby. But you know what? I don’t want to be their third.
Sure, he’s got a six-pack and she has some lovely eyelashes. But I think they desperately need brown contact lenses because their icy, Paul Hollywood-esque irises are scaring me.
I also can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about Ruby which makes me think she’s a rabid Swiftie. Not necessarily a bad thing, just not my cup of tea.
Port Adelaide Power
I’m genuinely not exaggerating when I say Tommy “Thunda” Power is the fugliest specimen I have ever seen in my entire life.
My mate James said the bloke would be electric, and sparks would fly in the bedroom. But sadly, he could not be more wrong.
Tommy has the cold, constricted pupils of any character in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia who is on day four of their eight-day bender. Sure, it works for Dennis and Mac, but this big blue fuck just doesn’t have the bone structure or eyebrow shape to pull it off.
Tommy is repugnant. I can’t even think about him in the sack lest I vomit all over my laptop. Back to the basement of Mascot Manor you go, you hideous monster!
Richmond Tigers
Look, Stripes and Sash would get the job done, but it wouldn’t be anything special.
They’re a bit too “siblings or dating” for my liking, thus I can’t think about their sexual escapades without wondering how many crimes they’re committing.
St Kilda Saints
NO. MORE. HUMAN. MASCOTS.
Sydney Swans
Syd “Cyggy” Skilton does not fuck.
You cannot look me in the eye and tell me this obscenely large swan, with his weirdly placed facial hair, underdeveloped wings, and deranged smile is a rooter from way back.
This big oaf of a mascot has never felt the visceral thrill that is an orgasm, nor will he ever. Instead, he’ll spend the rest of his days twirling woefully around a goal post in some sort of pathetic attempt to garner attention. SAD.
West Coast Eagles
Now, this is a bird who fucks.
Rick “the Rock” Eagle is a player who’s busting out at the seams, but I don’t hate it. It just shows he’s a man of passion; a bloke who doesn’t cut corners and take the easy way out.
There’s a reason he’s called the Rock, not the Pebble. Look at those big, strong wings. The stern little smize. The brooding eyes that are so far apart, it’d be borderline impossible to maintain eye contact. I’m shaking my tail feather as we speak.
Western Bulldogs
I have feared for my life writing this entire article, mainly because I don’t want to be put on an Australian Security Intelligence Organisation watch list. But it was these goddamn dogs from Footscray that really scared the shit out of me.
You see, the Western Bulldogs have a real dog as one of its mascots. I can crack jokes about weirdly hot lion costumes until the cows come home, but the presence of a living, breathing bulldog is simply too far and revolting. Thus for the purposes of this article, I have redacted Caesar the bulldog from the equation. Back to the kennel you go, mate!
As for the other mascots, which are called Woofer, Barkly, Butch and Roxie, they appear to be delightfully shiny and soft. Great for a cuddle and a wag of the old tail, if you catch my drift.
Woof woof, indeed.
