How much money does your school's mascot make?

Hello there! Welcome to your Thursday FOIAball.

Today, we’re dropping an article I have been ecstatic about for over a month! Ever since the good folks at the Sickos Committee and I came up with the idea. They have been laboring this week to produce a ton of extremely great graphics, which you can check out at their website. 

Before we begin, great articles like this are only available thanks to the tremendous support of our paid subscribers. Would you like to be able to say that you support inventive and fun journalism that always publishes never-before-reported scoops and stories? 

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As college athletics departments are wringing every last penny out of anything remotely monetizable, the University of Michigan is leaving serious cash on the table. 

That’s because the school does not have a mascot. There’s no high-fiveable, loveable, and huggable Woodrow or Wolfgang the Wolverine. 

According to the Bentley Historical Society, the school’s official archive, the institution believes that, unlike Ohio State’s Brutus Buckeye, “such a symbol is unnecessary and undignified and would not properly reflect the spirit and values of Michigan athletics.” 

You know what isn’t undignified? Making money. You know who doesn’t have a problem making money? Ohio State’s Brutus Buckeye. 

In the last fiscal year, Brutus, literally a dude in a rugby shirt, track pants, and a fuzzy, oversized nut slapped on his head, brought in $130,028 in appearance fees. 

That makes the costumed Buckeye the nation’s highest-grossing mascot in the land. 

To see how much revenue mascots earn for their schools, FOIAball obtained booking and appearance income data from across the country. Some very famous mascots aren’t quite as popular as you might think.

But a lot of them are bringing in close to six figures a year to hang out at weddings, corporate mixers, and ribbon cuttings. 

Michigan, come on, it’s easy money. 

At pretty much any school, you can book its mascot simply by heading to its website. The Sickos Committee compiled the appearance fees for almost every single oversized anthropomorphic available. 

Most request forms are the same, asking about the type of event and the length of the appearance. There isn’t much to it. 

But one school is a little more freewheeling.

The Cincy Bearcat’s fee varies. An hour-long appearance runs $300 for corporate gigs and $400 for weddings, with discounts for non-profits and university-affiliated functions. 

But pay that amount, and the Bearcat will do pretty much whatever you want. 

Requesters get to specify what kind of energy they want it to have at their event. FOIAball obtained the full request log, which includes every desired level of hype. 

True to the Midwest’s tempered sensibilities, out of 274 appearances, 89 requested “Medium.” 

The thing is, that isn’t from a drop-down menu with three options. It’s an open-ended text box where you can write anything. Most still wrote “Medium.” 

That isn’t the only way one can customize the costumed cub. There is also an open-ended entry for “Preferred Attire for Bearcat.”

Over the course of a year, the Bearcat was asked to don tuxedos for formal events; wear “2000s Retro MTV Summer Break vibes” for a flea market; put on a Halloween costume, but “no devil or witch” for a church trick-or-treat; go “Country Girl” for the Texas Roadhouse Line Dance Competition, as well as “Philosopher,” “Hawaiian,” “Golfing,” “Business Casual,” and “Whatever he feels prettiest in.”

And because I’m insane, I tracked down photos of most of these events to see if the Bearcat abides. The Bearcat abides. 

At a “Pancakes in Paradise” breakfast, he rocked the requested Hawaiian shirt. At a gala, he looked sleek in all-black. And for 2000s Retro MTV Summer Break vibes, well, you tell me if he nailed it. 

All told, the Bearcat made $45,450 in a single year. He should make more.

Goldy Gopher doesn’t let you dress him however you want. The Minnesota mascot has strict guidelines. Outside of athletic outfits, Goldy will show up in a cap and gown, but only for actual graduation ceremonies. He will wear a tuxedo to your wedding, but only if your guests are also in Black Tie. Goldy does not want to stunt on your big day. 

There are no rules for when he can wear scrubs, which is slightly disconcerting and maybe something the state physicians’ board should look into.

Perhaps those higher standards lead to bigger bucks. Across 264 appearances, Goldy brought home $119,605, the second-highest total FOIAball received. 

It’s not the first time Minnesota’s mascot came up just short of Ohio State this year. At the UCA College Nationals in January, Goldy finished second to Brutus in the mascot competition, a mere .14 points from the top spot. 

But Goldy made his big bag at a much lower rate. For a wedding appearance, the Gopher charges $400 for an hour. Brutus is nearly double that for half the time: A 30-minute appearance runs $700. 

Pricier than both is Sparty. Michigan State has some of the highest wedding rates in all of Mascot Land. The plastic ancient Pelopennsian warrior costs $1,500 for a 45-minute wedding appearance. 

The higher fee didn’t stop alumni from booking him. Sparty went to 18 weddings over a year, compared to Goldy’s 16. On just the power of love alone, he earned $27,000. That was part of 222 total paid appearances, which brought in $99,600, good for third in our rankings. 

Sparty’s paid appearances don’t reveal the full burden of being a mascot, which includes a number of unpaid gigs, ranging from games to school-sponsored events.

More granular data from Clemson’s Tiger and Cub—which finished fourth in our totals—show the packed schedule of a mascot. Take this time last year. 

On Saturday, April 12, 2025, the Tiger attended a birthday party and a wedding. The next day, it went to a minor league hockey team’s mascot party and a home baseball game. On Tuesday, he popped into a donor event and a softball game. Wednesday was another donor shindig, plus a children’s literacy function.

Thy/he/it hit the literacy drive again on Thursday, before going to lacrosse, softball, and baseball games. On Friday, the Tiger attended a training seminar, then watched baseball and softball, before finishing the week at a rehearsal dinner. 

Clemson’s data also shows the Tiger was requested for more weddings than any other mascot, with 73. It could have been higher, but many loverbirds said they did not want the Cub to show up if the Tiger was already booked. Rude. 

Nuptials aren’t the only way these mascots make money. They have become celebrities themselves, getting paid to be in advertisements. The Tiger’s biggest check came during a photoshoot with BMW, where he earned $3,075. 

Which is chump change compared to America’s most famous college's mascot. Last year, the Oregon Duck had five brand deals, billing $10,000 for each. One that we found was an ad campaign for Marriott. 

It took the Tiger nearly 300 paid appearances to earn $95,771. Right behind Clemson overall was South Carolina’s Cocky, who made $84,207 over 351. Meanwhile, the Duck brought in $76,613 in just 35 total appearances.

However, some of the sports' more famous mascots made significantly fewer appearances than you might expect. 

Western Kentucky’s loveable Big Red was only invited to one wedding last year. All told, the… whatever it is had 22 total off-campus events, earning $6,700. 

The HokieBird also seemed shockingly underbooked, with 35 paid events for just under $3,900 in earnings. Those figures may go up this year, though, as Virginia Tech recently raised its rates. Inflation in the mascot game is real. And running rampant. According to the Sickos Committee, some schools like Clemson have recently doubled what they charge for weddings. 

Location, it seems, plays a big part. There are only so many events in and around Bowling Green, Kentucky and Blacksburg, Virginia. Brutus has the greater Columbus area to work with, and Goldy can easily go anywhere in the Twin Cities.

While those two have city supremacy, in one booming college metropolitan area, a fierce rivalry for mascot supremacy is playing out. 

The numbers in the Triangle from North Carolina’s preeminent power couple, Mr. and Ms. Wuf of NC State, and UNC’s Bighorn bachelor, Rameses the Ram, were about as tight as can be. The Family Wuf had 248 paid appearances over the year, while Rameses was booked 259 times. 

But the two-income DINK household outearned the single parent (society, smh), with the Wufs netting $1,463 more: $83,636 to $82,173.

That wasn’t the only fierce in-state competition. Two big Texas schools were even more closely matched, though the comparison isn’t quite fair. Texas’ Hook’ Em’s had 61 appearances, frequently with the cheer squad at his side, which bumped up the rates. Raider Red of Texas Tech made 262. But their earnings were nearly identical: The Longhorn’s finished just $325 ahead, $50,175 to $49,850.

Hook Em’s Book Em’s are a good way to talk about how difficult these comparisons are. Take an ad for DoorDash that Hook ‘Em, Brutus, Hairy Dog of Georgia, and Alabama’s Big Al all filmed. 

Hook ‘Em’s $6,125 fee was included on a spreadsheet FOIAball received. Ohio State only sent total earnings and appearances figures (which is what we requested if fees were attached to more detailed logs). Meanwhile, Hairy Dog’s records will not be available until mid-June. And Alabama denied our request, saying the documents weren’t publicly disclosable. Many other schools said the documents would be prohibitively expensive to find, or didn’t have any.

So take this all with a grain of salt.

Oh, who am I kidding? Use this to gloat all you want. You can see the full totals—and where your mascot may rank—right here. 

Did you enjoy this? I’m glad you did. If this piece warmed your heart or fueled your dislike of Ohio State even more, make my day by upgrading to a paid subscription to FOIAball. 

We’ll see you next week!

Mascot images via too many schools’ Instagrams to list out.