Those who have been to a football game in the last few seasons may have seen him — the little kid on the jumbo-tron proclaiming to be the “real Sparky.” And here is my message to his parents: get worried. I am living proof of what happens when a young boy utters the same words, only to walk down a path of ultimate fanhood, experiencing triumphant highs and devastating lows; and thus the life of a life-long, die-hard, college sports fanatic.

I suppose it was destined to happen when I was born on the same weekend that the Sun Devils got the bid to play in their first Rose Bowl. It started with the latest Sun Devil gear for babies from the late ’80s. Then, from the time that I could walk, and as the son of two ASU grads, I was regularly attending sporting events on campus. The more I understood about the traditions surrounding Sun Devil athletics, the more I wanted to be a part of it. And of course, the appeal began with Sparky. Just like the boy in the commercial, I too was Sparky for Halloween. More than once.

And this came before the glamour of pre-made mascot costumes fit with kid sized jerseys and horns. I had to make my own half-assed version of our familiar animated amulet. Authentic isn’t the word I would use to describe my get-up of maroon sweat pants and gold shirt, not to mention the incredibly generic devil horns or the shiny gold face paint and poorly drawn mustache. For some reason I always came out looking like C-3PO in street clothes.

Christmas came early in November ’96 with a Rose Bowl birth after defeating Cal on my 10th birthday. The next month, my parents didn’t disappoint with the complete trip to California: parade, game, and even Disneyland. I’ll never forget that overcast, rainy day in Pasadena as Jake “The Snake” dove into the end zone late in the 4th quarter to give us the lead, only to subsequently snatch defeat from the jaws of victory moments later, in what would have been a National Championship.

From Jeff Larish’s three home runs in the College World Series, to near trips to the “Big Dance,” a dominant run through Oklahoma City and a softball national championship, it has been quite a ride. Win or lose, it was worth sleeping next to the statue of the man, the myth, the legend, Coach Frank Kush, before the USC game freshman year to get front row seats. Road trips to follow the Devils have taken me from L.A. and San Diego to Omaha. And sure, the life I have chosen has led to some rather unfortunate pictures of me in the local papers and Sports Illustrated — my mouth wide open, heckling opposing players, influencing the game any way I can. I no doubt will need surgery sometime in the near future to repair the severed vocal chords.

So, to the parents of the kid who calls himself the “real Sparky”: you’ve created a monster — one I hope will someday become my protégé, because I think we all know, we need another generation of real Devils that bleed maroon and gold.

— blake.lerdall@asu.edu