A night in the life of Lakewood Ranch mascot Klumpy

Fermin Llosa arrives at Lakewood Ranch High knowing he won’t be Fermin Llosa much longer.

It’s 6:30 p.m. on Aug. 18. The senior from Buenos Aires, Argentina, meets his handler, Meli Moore, outside the school gym. They scurry around the corner. A few minutes later, Moore returns with a new companion in tow. All traces of the Argentinean are gone, and in his place trots a fuzzy mustang with an oversized head.

He is Klumpy.

The Lakewood Ranch football team is readying to play Riverview High in a preseason contest, which means a mascot must be present. It is this particular Klumpy’s first time playing the role. He volunteered because he thought it would be fun, first and foremost, and because he gets a kick of out making others laugh.

Moore, a senior, has been handling since the beginning of last year, rotating with a few other students. Her job is to make sure Klumpy doesn’t get trampled, and that he doesn’t trample anyone, either. She also assists in getting his costume on and off, and getting him water when he needs it. She loves watching Klumpy interact with his youngest fans. It’s cute, she said. She knows what to expect from the evening. Klumpy does not, though he isn't nervous.

6:38 p.m.: Klumpy and Moore walk into the Lakewood Ranch cheerleaders’ practice, as they will follow them onto the field and stay with them for a large part of the game. The cheerleaders turn and wave. Shouts of “Hey, Klumpy, whoop whoop!” echo through the hallway. Klumpy waves back, and does a quick dance of mostly arm movements. The dance gets a positive reaction, and Klumpy seems happy with himself.

6:50 p.m.: Klumpy and Moore follow the cheerleaders to the stadium. This is difficult, because the mustang’s head does not allow for peripheral vision. “Let me hold your hand so you don’t die,” Moore tells Klumpy as they cross the street. Later, she tells Klumpy she can feel his legs coming loose from his hooves. That “happens sometimes,” she said, when Klumpy does a lot of jumping. Some young fans walk by, accompanied by parents. None of the fans seem concerned by the thought of Klumpy’s hooves falling off.

Inside the stadium, Moore helps Klumpy climb the bleachers. He gives high fives to everyone, and poses for pictures with those who want one. He seems like a natural, though he would later say the view makes it difficult to line up high fives, or even see them.

7:07 p.m.: The game is officially delayed by lightning, so much that the area looks like an apocalyptic spiderweb. After those few minutes in the stadium, everyone is forced to evacuate, equines included. Klumpy and Moore head to the gym. Once there, Klumpy rips off his head. Suddenly, Llosa is back. He looks shell-shocked and wet as he stands with Klumpy’s head in his hands, sucking oxygen.

“I’m a sweaty boy,” Llosa said.

He knew the costume would be hot, but he underestimated the intensity. The mechanical fan in Klumpy’s skull doesn’t help much, he said. Otherwise, he thinks the night is going well. Dancing with the cheerleaders is his favorite activity thus far. Moore encourages him to go to practice with the Lakewood Ranch Silver Stars dance team and learn their moves. Moore recalls one Klumpy who used to do flips at games. She didn’t know his true identity. Those things are usually kept secret.

I ask Moore if the costume is water-resistant. It’s not. This answer doesn’t bode well for the rest of the night, as it’s supposed to rain even when the lightning is gone. She usually brings Klumpy a personal umbrella, she said, but forgot it at home tonight.

7:22 p.m.: The game is still in delay. Llosa is practicing his horse sounds to pass the time. His neighs need some work, we all agree. Moore hands him a chocolate Chewy bar on which to snack.

7:42 p.m.: The stadium reopens, which means the game is about to finally get underway. Llosa disappears again, as Moore and Klumpy walk to the field, again. A faint rainbow glistens over the stadium against the background music of thunder.

7:46 p.m.: Klumpy has gone rogue. He bumps into me from behind and gets jostled away from Moore. He tries to climb the bleacher steps alone and trips over them. “Klumpy!” Moore said after hearing the sound of horse-on-metal. Klumpy walks toward the sound of her voice. He’s fine.

7:56 p.m.: The game begins.

8:02 p.m.: Riverview scores on its first possession. The crowd is silent, but the bands keeps playing and Klumpy keeps shaking his tail. There isn’t much else he can do.

8:10 p.m.: Riverview scores again and it starts to rain. Klumpy and Moore have to take shelter. Before leaving the stadium, Klumpy points toward the bathroom. He can’t go in there, she said, because there are people in there, and Moore has to help remove his hide. They scamper back to the gym, but the school’s doors are locked. They stand under an awning as Klumpy transforms into Llosa. He said he more or less is breathing his own sweat.

“I’m going to have to air this out,” Moore said, inspecting the horse head. She frowns.

8:49 p.m.: Back at the stadium, it’s 27-0 Riverview and still drizzling. It’s supposed to continue until at least 10 p.m., so Moore and Llosa call it quits. Llosa is disappointed his first time as Klumpy was cut short.

“It was fun, for a while,” Llosa said, laughing. “I really enjoyed it. I have to get used to the view and get better dance moves.”

Moore calls Llosa’s performance “amazing” for a first-timer. He did well with the people, and said the night was “really hype.”

She and Llosa begin putting the costume back in its tote bag, feet first. As they do, I ask Llosa one final question. Did he feel like, for those few hours, he truly was Klumpy?

Llosa looks at the mustang head lying in front of his human feet.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he said, nodding. “I did.”