Pothole Prairie by Tim Engstrom

Football is a big, tough, full-contact sport, right? And the teams of the National Football League have mascots that inspire the fans and players and reflect the aggressive nature of the game, right? So I have always wanted to consider which one would be the champion in n death-match playoff among all 32 teams.

My favorite team, the Minnesota Vikings, stands a pretty good chance. Vikings were aggressive Old Norse warriors who found it honorable to die in battle. They had a long history of raiding Europe from their many Scandinavian kingdoms and at times setting up new kingdoms such as Russia, Normandy, Sicily, Iceland and Danelaw, among others.

Let’s see how these Varangians will fare in our death-match playoff.

First, we will have to rule the one team named for an inanimate object out. A jet might be intimidating, but in a battle, it just sits on the tarmac without a pilot. Any mascot facing the New York Jets gets an automatic bye.

Secondly, mascots named for types of humans — except one — would be able to kill ones named for animals pretty much most of the time.

And though a saint might be able to pray for a miracle, didn’t many of them become saints as a result of being martyred? Think of Christians being fed to lions in Rome. St. Peter was crucified upside down. St. Paul supposedly was beheaded. The Saints, sadly, die fairly swiftly in this competition.

The ones named for animals — Ravens, Bengals, Broncos, Colts, Jaguars, Dolphins, Cardinals, Falcons, Panthers, Bears, Lions, Eagles, Rams and Seahawks — are out. I’d say the Arizona Cardinals have the weakest animal mascot.

The birds of prey, even eagles, often end up eating leftovers compared to big mammals. Dolphins are fairly smart, but they can’t maul enemies. The four big cat mascots could easy kill ungulates like colts, rams and broncos, but it’s generally accepted that bears are bigger and stronger than big cats. Chicago Bears advance the farthest among the animal mascots.

Question. What about the Browns? They are named for former coach and general manager Paul Brown or, some say, “Brown Bomber” boxer Joe Louis. But the helmets are orange and the fans dress up as dogs. The dog fans are what I think of. We’ll count them as dogs. They were eaten by the birds of prey.

Are the Buffalo Bills an animal or a person? Buffalo Bill Cody was a frontier hunter and showman in 19th century America, but the team helmets show bison. The first season in the All-American Football League, in 1946, the team was called the Bisons. A contest was held, and they became the Bills, paradoxically reflecting a frontiersman known for killing bison by the thousands. Let’s count them as bison anyway. No one thinks of Bill Cody anymore when the team is mentioned. The Bills died with the other ungulates.

And what about the Chargers? They were named in 1959 for charging horsemen, like a knight or a cavalryman, but they came to mean electric bolts of lightning. We will count them as killer weather.

Now, it gets tricky. The remaining contenders are Texans, Chiefs, Patriots, Raiders, Steelers, Chargers, Titans, Cowboys, Packers, 49ers, Vikings, Saints, Giants, Buccaneers and Redskins.

The Packers and Steelers would be the next teams out. They are named for meatpackers and steelworkers and don’t seem armed with weapons. The 49ers were gold diggers more than fighters. They sometimes carried guns but mostly were rough-and-tumble men looking to strike it rich. They are next to be out.

Cowboys follow them. Sure, they had guns, but they were loners and weren’t organized for warfare. Vikings, Raiders, Patriots and Buccaneers would defeat a bunch of lonely, poetry-writing Cowboys. These horsemen aren’t cavalry riders in any logo depiction, or even cowboys, for that matter.

What is a raider anyway? The ones on the shield emblem of the Oakland team look like a leather-helmeted football player with two swords in the background. Ready for warfare, yes, but apparently no guns. They die next.

Vikings — no, my team! — die after the Raiders. No guns either, but probably more deadly than football players wielding swords.

The Chiefs and Redskins are next out. They acquired guns, rode horses and organized, which probably could scare away gunless Vikings, but, I hate to say it, history shows Texans, patriots, buccaneers and even some cowboys weren’t too kind to native tribes.

A battalion of patriots from the American Revolutionary War or a fleet of buccaneers from the pirate era would take out Vikings and Raiders. Texans are modern-day people from Texas, so I can’t imagine patriots or buccaneers defeating big-old Texas as it stands today.

Giants are pretty powerful and could beat most of the human mascots. Texans, with all the firepower they can muster, probably could defeat a collection of giants. But they likely couldn’t beat a Titan. And Chargers, which is essentially lightning, can kill pretty much all the people and the Giants.

So the Super Bowl of the NFL mascots would come down to the Chargers and Titans, with the Titans winning.

Titans, in Greek mythology, were giant deities and gave birth to heaven, earth, oceans, things like that. They pretty much could wipe out all the other NFL mascots if they wish and would control lightning.

Time out! Titans were never real, like Vikings, 49ers, Seahawks and the other teams. They are a fictional character mascot. So are giants. Chargers win by default. It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature.

You know, it’s about time San Diego won something.

 

Tribune Editor Tim Engstrom’s column appears every Tuesday.