Running Bull

Humble beginnings keep this mascot tethered as he stubbornly pursues a chance to graze in greatness

It's a sweaty-hot July evening, the kind that shoos the cows toward home. But you wouldn't know it by the way he leans, coolly, against the wall. Out of sight from the fans, Wool E. Bull is near the top of a staircase next to the Durham Bulls' dugout, waiting to run onto the field for between-innings entertainment.

His posture, and his position, is a metaphor for his life at this exact moment: a laid-back hero to local baseball fans, Wool E. is at the top of his career. He is a finalist for inclusion in the Mascot Hall of Fame, just a step from the pinnacle of honors in his profession.

On cue, he climbs the last few stairs. As he appears, kids in the crowd wave their arms and scream, hoping that Wool E. will launch a T-shirt their way. Armed with an air gun designed to resemble a Kosher frankfurter, he lets a few fly before scooting to the other side of the field and climbing into the stands to meet his youthful admirers.

Although he will answer simple yes or no questions with a nod or shake of his head, Wool E. does not talk. So it is impossible to know exactly what he is thinking as little ones climb onto his lap while their parents snap photographs. His demeanor, though, offers some clues: with an endless smile, he is gentle and kind, he never declines an autograph and he never turns down an opportunity for a hug.

He carries himself with purpose, as a bull who knows his spot in this world, and is eminently comfortable with it.

It wasn't always so.

Wool E. Bull was born in the Durham Athletic Park. Arriving at work one morning in July 1992, stadium workers found the orphan bull near the umpires' clubhouse, says Tony Riggsbee, who has covered the team as a radio reporter since 1980 and works as a PA announcer at the ballpark.

"It's my understanding that he was born behind some bags of Diamond Dry," he says, referring to the infield conditioner.

Wool E. grew up quickly, Riggsbee says, and with no mom or dad around, it became the responsibility of the batboys to care for him. His scampish nature soon emerged, and Wool E. earned the reputation of a jokester, occasionally hiding the rosin bag or using his horns to lift batting helmets from the rack.

Befriended by the players and team employees, Wool E. also began to accompany them on community outings. So began his transformation to team mascot.

"It was a gradual evolution more than anything else," Riggsbee says.

One afternoon Wool E. slipped on an old uniform and ran out on the field to entertain the crowd. He hasn't missed a game since.

"It's a stretch that would rival Ripken," says Matt DeMargel, the Bulls' director of media relations and promotions. Former Baltimore Orioles shortstop Cal Ripken holds the Major League record for consecutive games played at 2,632.

In addition to being punctual and dedicated, Wool E. is hard-working and humble, DeMargel says.

"I've never heard a complaint from him."

Durham Bulls General Manager Mike Birling backs up that assertion of humility. "The thing about Wool E. is that he's all about the fans, as big as a star as he is."

The star's stable

Wool E. lives year-round in the ballpark. Befitting a bull of his stature, he has a dressing room beneath the stands, complete with a star on the door. His specially constructed uniform, built with a hole so his tail can hang comfortably, is proof of the team's investment in him.

Young fans have been known to take advantage of the tail, yanking it while Wool E. isn't paying attention. Instead of responding with an agitated snort, Wool E. is more likely to trade the tug for a hug.