Faces on the Field: The Famous Chicken
But what about the Famous Chicken, who has been entertaining sports fans with his sideline antics since 1974? The Famous Chicken, who pioneered in-game sports entertainment? The Famous Chicken, who was the first professional sports mascot, spawning hundreds of others who are, for all intents and purposes, Famous Chicken imitators? The Famous Chicken, who visited Frisco last week to make each fan appreciate baseball in a new way?
That Famous Chicken is also known as Ted Giannoulas, a 52-year-old man who landed the gig as a spring-breaking college student in 1974. He got the job without an interview, without an audition, and without a resume. If he had had a resume, his previous experience column would have simply read "dishwasher." As the not-yet-Famous Chicken, he earned $2 per hour in 1974.
Thirty-two years later, he's a sports icon and a prominent symbol of American popular culture. In fact, The Sporting News named the Famous Chicken one of the 100 most powerful people in sports in the 20th century, a list that included such sportsmen as Muhammad Ali, Babe Ruth and Jesse Owens. The Chicken clocks in at No. 100, right behind Wayne Gretzky, who of course, sits at No. 99.
"Before 1974, no one dressed up. People were still wearing suits and ties to the ballparks," Giannoulas said. "Now, you see people painting their faces, people with crazy hats, people without shirts on, painting their chests. There was nothing like that before the Chicken."
In some respects, his experience is the American dream. Though few people would describe the dream as dressing up as a chicken and running around like your own head's been cut off, many would offer some variation of spending a lifetime entertaining millions of people in various celebrations of American life from baseball parks to rock 'n' roll concerts, becoming an icon of America's national pastime, making thousands of people laugh on a daily basis, playing with children every night and earning national recognition -- not to mention ample financial compensation -- for your efforts.
And, though wearing a thick, heavy, chicken suit in the 100-degree heat of a baseball stadium in summertime can be grueling, Giannoulas will admit that he's a lucky man.
"I'd say it gets up to 120 degrees [inside the suit], easy. And that's being conservative. It's a virtual sauna, and a virtual rainforest in there," said Giannoulas, who goes through two or three chicken suits per year because of all the wear and tear. "It's very labor intensive, and it always has been. It's definitely work, but it's not a job."
Still, Giannoulas refuses to use the heat as an excuse to give less than his all. He once famously said, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the chicken."
As the Famous Chicken, Giannoulas has made over 17,000 appearances in eight countries on four continents. He was invited to the White House by President George W. Bush to perform at the first White House T-ball game in 2001. He has an official exhibit dedicated to him in the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, thanks in part to a crack he made several years ago about adding a "chicken wing" to the museum, since, as he said, it already housed a "wing" for players and a "wing" for managers.
He has performed on stage with such classic rock acts as Paul McCartney, Jimmy Buffett, Cheap Trick, Chuck Berry and the Ramones. At a 1976 concert, before he was a household name, the Famous Chicken even made Elvis Presley stop mid-song because the King was laughing too hard at the Chicken's dancing in the aisle.
"True story," Giannoulas said. "Elvis dropped to a knee, and the house doctor ran onto the stage. [Elvis] sent him away and told him he was just laughing because of this chicken, for crying out loud. And he didn't recognize me, he just saw me dancing in the aisle. He apologized to the audience and finished the song. Then he told me that his manager's name was The Colonel, so I'd better watch out. So I started running around frantically. It was a great moment."
After 32 years of accumulating such stories, Giannoulas is cutting back on his engagements. This year, he's slated for 40 appearances. In previous years, he's done as many as 250 at a variety of events. Now, he's performing exclusively at baseball games, saying that baseball is the natural stage for an act like his.
"More than anything else, baseball has the best sense of humor," Giannoulas said. "No other sport has the color, the lore and the legend of baseball, and that speaks volumes about the people who make this game happen. Baseball has the best sense of humor of all the major spectator sports, and that's really reflected at the Minor League level.
"What I love about the culture of the Minor Leagues is that it still has that boys-of-summer spirit about it," Giannoulas continued. "Each team still has that community feel to it. There's still that innocent enthusiasm that everyone there is truly cheering for the game, hence the great renaissance in Minor League attendance numbers recently. I think the country has discovered what a great theater Minor League baseball really is."
That theater is where the Famous Chicken shines. David Barac, the managing director of The Famous Chicken, Inc., has been working with Giannoulas for three years, witnessing firsthand how a goofy guy making goofy gestures in foul (or should I say fowl?) territory can completely change a game.
"He's a legend, and I was a big fan before I even worked with him. It's just a lot of fun, and I can tell these stories over and over. I've made a lot of my friends jealous with this job," Barac said. "We're here to make people laugh. To fill in the gaps between innings. Before this, fans would just watch the grounds crew drag the field. Now, there's comedy where there used to be two minutes of boredom. And I think that's really valuable. [Giannoulas] has really defined this industry."
But as much as he's done to revolutionize fan entertainment, Giannoulas knows he can't be doing it forever. He's 52 years old now, and he's even older in mascot years. "Spring chicken" would be a misnomer, not to mention an unfortunate play on words. Giannoulas knows he'll be leaving the lifestyle of the Famous Chicken someday in the near future, and the fans will be the biggest losers when that happens. But he promises to go out with a bang, as if we expected anything different.
"I'm guessing I'll hang it up in two or three years," said Giannoulas, who plans on taking it easy and spending more time with his wife of 10 years. "But when I take my final bow, it'll be with a lot of bells and whistles."
And what happens when Giannoulas finally does hang up his chicken suit on that presumably giant hanger? Well, when Giannoulas is done, so is the Famous Chicken. Without him -- the man who became a chicken over 30 years ago, and who has dedicated his life to entertaining people -- there is no act.
"The Chicken will be retired for good, just like Babe Ruth's No. 3," he said. "If you missed it, you missed it. You should have been there."
But if you weren't, you'll always be able to appreciate the legacy of the Famous Chicken. Thanks to Giannoulas' contributions to the world of in-game fan entertainment, that legacy will live on in ballparks, Major and Minor, for a long time to come.
Dan Pieringer is an associate reporter for MLB.com.