By RACHEL SAUER
The Daily Sentinel
Rico Suave of the golf team was pacing.
Fold and unfold his arms. Stretch back, stretch forward. Stand over here, stand over there. It was about 10 minutes to the catwalk and there was a surprisingly large crowd out in the bleachers of Brownson Arena.
“Is that your formal wear?” asked the guy in the pink satin suit.
Rico Suave of the golf team glanced down: red kicks and red chinos, white belt, black suspenders, sunshine-yellow bow tie. No shirt.
He grinned. Yep.
“It’s kind of a hipster move,” he admitted, “but, you know, I’m on the golf team so obviously I have a great body. I’m the Rico Suave of the team.”
To his professors and his mom, he’s Kyler Smith, a 20-year-old biology major. Tuesday night, standing with 12 other guys in the chiaroscuro light at the mouth of an inflatable run-into-the-arena tunnel, all swagger and bravado to mask the nerves, he was a maybe Mr. Mav.
Mr. Mav?
Oh, yes. Mr. Mav.
TURN ON THE SPOTLIGHT
The Mr. Mav pageant began in 2012 as a fundraiser for Colorado Mesa University’s Athletic Training Club. It is, happily, exactly what it sounds like: a tongue-in-cheek “pageant” featuring formal-wear-and-pick-up-line, swimwear and talent rounds, then a question-and-answer round for the final five.
The first-ever Mr. Mav, Brayden Humpherys, chugged a gallon of milk for his talent.
“It’s just supposed to be a lot of fun,” explained Crystal Sullivan, an athletic training major who organized this year’s event. “I think we have a lot of well-rounded, different guys here (at CMU) and this is something to spotlight them.”
In previous years, the entrants were drawn from various sports teams and the athletic department, but this year the event was open to the entire campus, Sullivan said.
So, maybe it was because the pool of contestants was expanded, or because Sullivan began advertising it in November, but Tuesday night’s event raised $1,200 for the Athletic Training Club, up from last year’s $350.
Or, it could have just been that Garrett Ball, an 18-year-old freshman from Arroyo Grande, California, did 50 push-ups while eating donut holes. Blindfolded.
NEED A BLINDFOLD
“I have kind of an odd request,” Ball told one of the Athletic Training Club members milling around room 120 in the Maverick Center on Tuesday evening. “It’s something I forgot. I need a blindfold.”
A minute later, she returned with an ace bandage. Will this work?
“It should, thanks,” Ball said, giving it a stretch. Next, he handed her a small Daylight Donuts bag and began explaining his talent: blindfolded push-ups while eating doughnut holes. He needed her help.
“I’m doing 50 push-ups, but I can’t stay down for very long because, you know, 50 push-ups is a lot, so I’ve got to go down and grab it,” he said, indicating his mouth and how he would be grabbing the donut hole with it. Would she place a doughnut hole directly under his mouth?
“Like, you’ll see me stop chewing, so could you set another one out?” he asked. “It’ll probably be every five.” She nodded gamely.
All around him, 12 other would-be Mr. Mavs arrayed themselves through room 120, getting ready. It was about 7 p.m. and the show started at 7:30, but Michael Bouchier, 19, a freshman computer science major, wasn’t taking any chances. He shed his street clothes down to his skivvies and donned a black button-down, black shoes and hot pink satin pants and vest.
“I left the jacket at home (in Fleming),” he admitted, ruefully shrugging at the oversight. He ordered the suit off the Internet for his senior prom — “my date had a black dress, so we matched,” he said — and how wonderful that it ended up being so multi-use.
Amid all the pre-show preparation and grooming and push-ups, Coryann Ledford, an athletic training major and event volunteer, strove for organization.
“OK,” she called, asking everyone to sit down for a minute and listen. She went through the list of entrants, crossing off the ones who weren’t coming, and then double-checking each guy’s song for the formal wear catwalk and his talent.
“OK, Ryan, you’re walking out to ‘A Thousand Miles,’ ” she said, looking at the list, and Ryan Reasoner, 21, nodded with a little grin. That would be “A Thousand Miles,” the Vanessa Carlton piano ballad.
“Tony,” Ledford said, addressing 18-year-old freshman Tony Silva. “Your walk-out is ‘Get Ur Freak On’ and your talent is…”
“Twerking,” he confirmed.
The list eventually gone through, and a short field trip made through Brownson Arena so the guys could learn the route for their formal wear walk, the preparations continued. Khyre Burns, an 18-year-old from Denver, stuck a black pick just so into his hair and Cameron Johnson, 18, a freshman from Cheyenne, Wyoming, practiced his walk-out with Ball.
“I’m gonna stop like this and give ’em a wink,” he said, demonstrating a hip-out stop-and-smolder straight from a Burberry ad. “I’ll be all…” and he did a respectable Blue Steel moue.
Just before the show started, they lined up in and around the doorway of room 120, glancing toward the arena that was dark save for the spotlights on the small, “MR. MAV!”-bedecked stage.
“Is anyone else just, like, trippin’ right now?” Silva asked no one in particular.
And then it was time.
Joshua Abshear, 18, classy in dark denim and a black blazer, was up first.
PUTTING ON SWIMSUITS?
So, yes, there was mugging and posing. Burns did a Mr. Olympia flex and Bouchier stopped in front of the judges’ table with a bowed, chest-out matador flourish. But let’s talk the pick-up lines.
Some of them? Not so much, because this is a family newspaper.
But they were delivered to sophomore Ali Svorinic, seated on the stage.
From Austin Pridham: “Are you a beaver? Because daaaaaaam.”
From Bouchier: “I’m a pirate searching for treasure. Do you mind if I search your chest?”
As soon as they were done with the pick-up demonstration, they hurried back to room 120 to change into their swimwear (and do a few push-ups, because why not).
For Jesse Woolley, 18, that meant floral-print trunks and a bow tie.
For Johnson, it was a replica of the rather brief Speedo worn by Australian water polo players (the crowd went wild when, in front of the judges’ table, he cast off the blue towel he’d had knotted around his waist with an Oscar-worthy flourish).
For Stuart Foster, 23, it was a Farmer John wetsuit, snorkel and fins.
And then there was Reasoner’s. “You might not want to take pictures of this,” he’d warned earlier. “It’s skimpy.” It was a black women’s one-piece with an illusion netting top. It was… anatomically correct, shall we say.
“Told you,” he said, waiting his turn in the arena doorway.
Brandon Cummings, 19, donned fluorescent pink trunks and patted his stomach.
“Yeahhhhh,” he said, giving it a little drum. Meanwhile, someone worried aloud whether they’d popped all the zits on their back.
After the swimsuit round it was on to talent, from the sublime — Abshear playing “Classical Gas” on his guitar; he’s played for 13 years and the audience went wild — to the, well, sublime in other ways.
In re: Silva’s twerking, he donned skivvies with a tuxedo front to do it. And that’s all that needs to be said about that.
Smith began his routine by sitting on the floor with a single cup, vaguely doing some sort of “Cup Song” deal, but dramatically cast the cup away before being joined by several ladies from the audience to do the Wobble.
Both Johnson and Pridham, 22, did dance routines to Jamiroquai’s “Canned Heat” — Johnson recreating the climactic scene from “Napoleon Dynamite” and Pridham doing a routine with his friend, Cassidy.
“I’m taking a ballroom dance class this semester,” he explained later. The pair rehearsed probably four times in preparation.
AND MR. MAV IS…
Then it was time for the final five to be announced. All 13 waited in the shadows of the arena doorway while the four judges, including last year’s Mr. Mav, Bruno Nicoletti, tallied their scores. Finally: Pridham, Johnson, Bouchier, Cummings and Foster.
“Oh, well,” someone sighed as the finalists headed to stand in front of the judges’ table and everyone else returned to room 120.
The last round was one question per person from the judges.
Pridham: “If you could meet anyone in all time, who would you choose and why?”
“I would love to meet Anthony Kiedis,” he replied, “because I love the Red Hot Chili Peppers.”
Johnson: “If you won the lottery, what would you do with the money and why?”
“Well, first I would take all you lovely judges to a nice meal,” he said. “And then I would go to a nudist book club.”
Questions answered, it was down to the wire. The judges conferred, the five finalists stood in a line. Cummings turned around and took a selfie with the crowd in the background. And then: In third place, Cameron Johnson! He won a $5 gift certificate to Starbucks and the joy of knowing he’s the best Napoleon Dynamite this side of Idaho.
In second place, Michael Bouchier! He won a $20 gift certificate to Sonic and the swooning adoration of more than a few ladies for his mostly in-tune rendition of “Bad” by The Cab during the talent round.
And finally, the 2015 Mr. Mav…
Austin Pridham!
He grinned as Nicoletti put the gold plastic crown on his head, dapper in his navy blue blazer, soon surrounded by a circle of friends who hurried down from the bleachers.
In the following days, Pridham said he heard a few comments around campus, people saying they saw him at Mr. Mav or congratulating him on his win. He entered because he’s on the lacrosse team and got nominated, “but it was fun to win,” he said Thursday night.
Mr. Mav 2015. It has a nice ring.