(SFGATE and the San Francisco Chronicle are both owned by the same parent company, Hearst, but operate independently of one another.) His first appearance in a newspaper came courtesy of former San Francisco Chronicle staff writer David Steele, who said Berserker’s introduction was a sign that the team had “joined the rest of the drooling NBA masses” before sarcastically describing how Berserker was ushered into the arena on opening night. In Berserker’s sole season on the hardwood, columnists and reporters alike found inches in their copy to dunk all over him. In short, Berserker was part unknown trash creature, part hairstylist, part slamball contestant and, according to the sportswriters covering this mediocre Golden State season, one entirely huge mess.Īn ad for the Golden State Warriors mascot for the 1996 season, Berserker. Berserker’s athleticism is owed to his wolfman powers, and because the person behind the costume was reportedly a former Arizona State gymnast whose identity was intentionally obscured by the team to spare him of mascot-related blowback.
The copy on the poster is overlaid on a photo of Berserker getting ready for a two-handed slam dunk after jumping off a trampoline.
He is already dependent on arena food.” (Editor's note: If you ever paid real American dollars to have Berserker attend your company event, please contact this writer.) Rounding out the poster’s copy, above an ad to bring this wooly figure with a Hannibal Lecter mask to your next event, is a warning written in bold: “Please do not feed Berserker. His first appearance came during a preseason game in Hampton, Virginia, on Oct.
This, like many cryptid sightings, was an oversight. 1, 1996, the team’s regular season home opener. The first time he was “sighted,” according to the Warriors, was on Nov. But that was the extent of his traceable employment history and upbringing. But then his physical description veered in the direction of an unkempt, feral wolfman his height was listed as 6-foot-6 “with hair combed,” and an estimated weight of 250 pounds (We say estimated because because the uncontrollable beast “cannot be held on a scale,” the promotional poster noted).īerserker’s combed hairdo was owed, apparently, to his perfect attendance certificate from the fictional Fernando’s School of Hair and Cosmetology, found in his locker. He was introduced with a definition of his name, which is a legendary Norse warrior known for attacking with “frenzied fury,” implying that he’d pump up the team with fierce battle cries. The poster didn’t provide much clarity about Berserker’s presentation and personality. Coolant and asbestos may account for his abnormal appearance.” “It is surmised that Berserker survived on peanut shells and popcorn left over from the circus and many other events. “During the excavation of the Oakland Coliseum floor in preparation for the building of the new Oakland Coliseum, a crate was found in the plumbing channel used for freezing the floor,” a promotional poster – really the only relic from the Berserker era – reads. So how did the team’s marketing department get the Bay Area sports-watching public interested in this never-before-seen addition? They described him as a sewer creature. A big honor, even for an anthropomorphic beast. Jamie Squire/Getty Imagesīerserker wasn’t just spawned by the Warriors game operations team to “increase the energy level at games,” as they said in 1996 – he was also, remarkably, the first official mascot in the franchise’s 50-year history. He didn’t just die he disappeared from the internet, too.ĭec 3, 1996: Guard Mark Price of the Golden State Warriors tries to drive past forward Tom Hammonds of the Denver Nuggets at the San Jose Arena in San Jose, California.
Carlesimo and, as former director of game operations Brett Yamaguchi bluntly told the New York Times in 2016, “Berserker died after one season.”īut while there’s plenty of photographic evidence of the Warriors’ San Jose foray, as well as their unfortunate three-headed point guard lineup, Berserker is basically Bigfoot – both in looks and elusiveness. The team’s home court returned to Oakland, Adelman was fired and replaced by the soon-to-be-choked-out P.J. None of the three aforementioned oddities remained for the following season. But nothing, and no one, from the ‘96-97 season was weirder than Warriors mascot Berserker, a haggard athletic creature responsible for the team’s dead ball entertainment in San Jose, where they lost 23 of 41 home games.
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