Getting Inside Cavman’s Head

In the long history of UVA sports, mascots have come and gone. Beta and then Seal were much-loved dogs who roamed Grounds from the 1920s to the 1940s. The ’Hoo, a furry orange character, appeared and left quickly in 1983, followed by the inflatable ’Lil Hoo in the early 2000s and Sabre, a fuzzy blue horse, in 2010.

But none have persisted quite like the Cavalier. The mascot, inspired by a mostly forgotten century-old UVA fight song, first appeared as a costumed character in 1984 and became widely called Cavman in 2000.

The Cavalier’s appearance has changed over time, turning from a swashbuckling, human-sized character with a jaunty belt tied around his middle to a muscular giant with biceps always ready to flex. Along with the size of those muscles, his popularity has grown too. The people behind Cavman’s enormous mask know that more than most.

Over the decades, the students who have donned Cavman’s suit have formed a fraternity of sorts, connecting over stories of shared sweaty suits, matching cuts and bruises from inside the unwieldy head, and close calls as they attempted to hide their identities. At any given time, four to five students play the role of Cavman, keeping their identities (mostly) secret until graduation.

They have performed on some of the biggest sports stages—center court at nationally televised championship games—and roused a roaring crowd of 60,000 UVA fans inside Scott Stadium. They’ve been seen roaming community events, posing with UVA alumni at a wedding reception, hanging out with mascots at tournaments, and even appearing in a country music video.

“Being Cavman is so much more than just doing the sporting events,” says Jack Nichting (Col class of ’17), who as Cavman appeared in a Brad Paisley music video for “Country Nation” with other mascots.

“You’re just welcomed everywhere,” says Matt Hunt (Engr class of ’00, class of ’04). “You’re completely independent. When you put the suit on and walk through Grounds or class or go to the game, you don’t have to be invited. … [It’s a] key to the city sometimes.”

Becoming Cavman

No common thread links every student behind Cavman other than, perhaps, height. Because of how the suit is constructed, it’s best if the student stands 5-foot-10 or taller, says Kelley Haney, UVA’s longtime spirit team coach, who oversees Cavman and the cheer and dance teams. They also must follow a long-standing rule that’s common for college and professional mascots: No talking while in costume.

Some Cavmen come with previous experience, having performed as mascots for their high school teams or during summer jobs. Some were high school athletes, eager to get involved in UVA’s athletics department. Some were cheerleaders or lifelong UVA fans. Others just auditioned on a lark after hearing about it through a friend. Some find their way to auditions as early as their first year; others wait until later.

Jeremy Rowe (Col class of ’09) traces his Cavman origin story all the way back to the late 1970s, which were not great years for UVA’s football team. Back then, tickets to games were buy one, get one free, and Rowe’s father, a West Virginia native living in the nearby Waynesboro area, started going because it was cheap and he loved sports.

By the time Jeremy was born, the ’Hoos were building a better record, and going to UVA games became a family affair. A family photo shows Jeremy posing with the Cavalier in Scott Stadium around the age of 3.

Rowe’s performance as Cavman would eventually help earn him the Class of 2009’s Pursuit of Happiness Award for radiating positive energy and embodying Wahoo pride. His younger brother Steven Rowe (Col class of ’12) performed as Cavman, too.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re an introvert or if you’re an extrovert, you’re not yourself. You’re representing something bigger,” Jeremy Rowe says of being Cavman.

For Sarah Koucheravy (Col class of ’17, Educ class of ’18), auditioning for Cavman was about trying something new—for herself and for UVA. As a third-year, she decided to try out for the role after reading a UVA Today story about the mascot that said there had never been a female Cavman. Koucheravy considered it a challenge.

She signed up to audition as soon as she figured out how. “I  100 percent went into it just kind of on a dare for my friends—like, this is a joke, there’s never been a woman,” she remembers.

Auditions, which typically take place in April, require energy, a sense of humor and an easygoing attitude toward hygiene. The outfit’s underlayer, made of muscle pads and spandex, is like a sweat sponge. And often, including at auditions and events, the students who play Cavman share the same suits. (UVA has two total, which are washed after every appearance, Haney says.) “It’s really gross in there,” Nichting says.

Students auditioning for Cavman run through a routine that has remained consistent, according to those behind the mask. They interact with props such as the giant UVA flag that’s flown at football games. They show off their improv skills, demonstrating how Cavman might react in certain scenarios, such as a big win or encountering drunken fans.

And they’re asked to show off their dance skills. Will Luck (Engr class of ’12) re-created Will Ferrell’s rhythmic gymnastics routine, set to the theme song from Chariots of Fire, from the movie Old School. Nichting pulled out a routine he’d done for a high school talent show, featuring Bruno Mars’ “Runaway Baby.” Hunt danced to Will Smith’s “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It.”

“We’re looking for stamina,” Haney says. “And you’re really looking for, can they put some character into what they’re doing, even though they haven’t had any training?”

As Koucheravy prepared for her audition, she wondered if the lack of women in the role had to do with Cavman being a muscled macho man. She admits to feeling a bit like a fool as she walked away from the audition. The costume was a sweaty mess inside, and the head never stayed put as she tried to move in what felt like a suit of armor. Then the email arrived offering her the gig. “I freaked out,” she remembers.

Being Cavman

Stepping into the uniform comes naturally for some new Cavmen. The first time in the suit for Rowe, then a second-year, broke a few rules. A friend who was Cavman at the time let Rowe walk around in the suit at a cancer fundraiser. Rowe remembers thinking that he wanted—needed—to be Cavman full time. He auditioned and made the team not long after.

“It wasn’t lost on me, from the very first time that I put on the suit, that I was not me: I was instantly Cavman. I couldn’t walk the same. I couldn’t treat other people the same,” Rowe says. “Because athletics had meant so much to me, it was a very natural thing for me to instantly know, ‘I’m not me. I gotta be Cavman.’”

For Carrera Lucas (Col class of ’18, Educ class of ’19), who played varsity field hockey for UVA before her run as Cavman, her many years as a goalie helped her quickly acclimate to the suit’s various layers. She already knew what it was like to move while wearing full-body padding and protection, along with a helmet and mask that limited her vision.

“Just knowing how to deal with wearing a lot of things that are going to make you sweat a lot, and not passing out or feeling lightheaded … it didn’t bother me,” she says.

But performing as Cavman, the character, is another thing. The mascot has plenty of scripted moments—including the pre-game sprint across the football field or center court performances during basketball games.

New Cavmen typically go through some training, along with UVA’s spirit team. Rowe even attended two years of mascot training camps, part of a national cheer and dance association program. Sessions focused on everything from learning how to move in the suit to how to interact with crying children.

But nothing can prepare mascot performers for the unscripted moments or the stamina required.

Playing Cavman is a test of physical endurance, sprinting down fields while exaggerating every movement. During home football games, it’s so taxing that three students perform the role, splitting up the pre-game, first half and second half. Some have reported losing as much as 8 to 10 pounds, especially during the hottest early fall games.

“It’s the most exhausting thing in the entire world,” says Nichting, who rated it even more physically exhausting than his turn as a contestant on the 39th season of the CBS hit Survivor.

Says Luck: “I used to tell people whatever temperature outside, add 20 to 30 degrees and that’s what it felt like in the suit. It was like wearing a big winter puffy onesie.”

And it can take time to learn how to operate inside the giant costume. The first time Kat Young (Col class of ’19) donned the Cavman suit at a women’s basketball game, she was eager to wow the crowd. Young, who had just wrapped up her final season as a varsity volleyball player at UVA, was planning to do a fake split just as a song ended. But it’s hard to hear inside the Cavman head.

“I couldn’t hear when the song ended, and I panicked and I thought I missed it,” Young remembers. “So I dropped down into the real split by accident. I cannot do the real split. And I pulled my hamstring at the beginning of the game. I still finished out the game, but then I had to slow down on the workouts the rest of the week to let that heal. That was a little gift.”

For female Cavmen—Young and Lucas came soon after Koucheravy—there was another hurdle: moving as UVA fans would expect the muscly male character to move. Beating the chest—a classic Cavman move—wasn’t something that came naturally to Koucheravy, for example. She consciously had to remember to work it into her routine. “It’s almost like learning a sport, which I love,” she says.

Who is Cavman?

While Cavman is a central character in most every event the mascot attends, playing Cavman can feel like a solitary role for the ’Hoos inside. It involves telling friends a few lies about their whereabouts on game days or ducking into dark corners to change out of costume. Even the people who play Cavman at the same time don’t always run into each other.

Often, they find community among the cheer and dance team members. Some onetime Cavmen and cheerleaders have married, including Luck and Kate (Longest) Luck (Col class of ’15), whose rehearsal dinner included a visit from the mascot.

There’s Pat Kelly (Engr class of ’02) and Lisa (Killen) Kelly (Engr class of ’05) too. No immediate love connection was kindled during the single year they performed together—she as a first-year cheerleader and he as a fourth-year Cavman. “Sometimes he would steal my pompoms, but I just thought, ‘Oh, that’s a Cavman thing to do,’” Lisa Kelly remembers. The couple started dating the following year.

And Koucheravy will never forget the moment when a few cheerleaders approached her at practice one day to thank her for being a pioneer. “That has always stuck with me,” she says. “I’m definitely a feminist, and I feel like having any type of diversity in a space is really important. Even more in hindsight; you might not realize what a difference it’s making.”

As is Cavman tradition, the students’ identities are revealed at graduation as they don part of their costume for Final Exercises. They remember surprised looks—and some confirmed suspicions—as they walked down the Lawn with Cavman’s overalls or cape on.

As one of only a handful of people of color in the role, Young looks back on that moment with pride. “It’s generally a space where you don’t necessarily see a ton of people who look like me being heavily into it,” she says. “After the reveal, now someone who does look like me knows that this is for us too.”

But, as the students behind Cavman learned during their tenures, the mascot is much bigger than an individual character anyway. Cavman is an embodiment of the UVA spirit, Truman Brody-Boyd (Col class of ’19, Educ class of ’28) says. Lucas says: “People always know when there’s a mascot around that there’s some mischief that’s about to unfold.”

Whatever ’Hoo fans are experiencing—the devastating loss of a high-profile game or a random event on the Lawn—Cavman is a constant, a “beacon of joy,” Nichting says.

“And there is someone in there who is actively trying to make whatever you’re doing better,” he says. “There’s something beautiful … about that.”