Play that heals

Jamie Ballentine, ’06, knew he wanted to be a mascot from the time he was a teenager. He got his start playing the Blazer at Ridge View High School in Columbia as a senior. Before he even graduated, Ballentine landed a role with the University of South Carolina as Cocky.

The role is traditionally reserved for USC students, but as he was going to be a freshman in the fall of 2002, Gamecock Cheerleading brought Ballentine on to begin that spring.

“My very first appearance as Cocky was a walk at the South Carolina State Museum. That was on a Saturday. I went home, showered, rested and then went back to the museum for my senior prom,” he says.

The summer before his freshman year, Ballentine attended a mascot training camp, where he learned how lucrative a career as a professional mascot could be.

“The guy running the camp told us how Clutch from the Houston Rockets was making six figures a year. Right then and there, I thought to myself, ‘I could take care of myself and a future family just be being an idiot? …I’m in,’” he says.

After a four-year, national award-winning run as Cocky, Ballentine set out to become a professional mascot. One of his earliest full-time role was with the Charleston Riverdogs, where he played Charlie T. Riverdog at baseball games and community outreach events, which he worked to expand.

“When I started as Charlie, the first thing I wanted to do was get over to the children’s hospital and visit the kids,” he says.

Hospital outreach was something Ballentine had come to enjoy during his time as Cocky, though he says he hated this part of the job at first. He didn’t like seeing children sick, and he would often try to get out of those appearances.

“As a naïve college kid, I sort of thought that if you didn’t look at it, it doesn’t exist,” he says.

That all changed one evening, when a hospital visit showed Ballentine how much comfort just being there could bring. The child he was supposed to meet was too sick to get up and see Cocky, but the parents still asked him to come.

“So, I got in the suit just for the parents. I had some stuff to sign and give to the little boy, and the parents were crying and thanking me for coming,” he says. “That changed me a good bit. That moment planted the seed that developed into what I do now.”

From mascot to minister

While Ballentine would go on to try out for major professional teams and even came close to becoming Rowdy for the Dallas Cowboys, he found himself being drawn in a different direction. His work visiting hospitals and working with children as Cocky, and then as Charlie, had given him a sense of purpose he knew he wanted to develop in his life.

That was why Ballentine decided to go to seminary and become a youth pastor. Even so, the pull toward mascot work was strong, and in 2014 he came up with a character named Olly, a fuzzy brown otter with big green eyes.

“Olly the Otter was initially created to be a tool for churches to use to try to help families stay closer together,” he says. “I would play Olly at different events to try to bring some joy to families that were struggling.”

Over the years, Ballentine became an associate pastor and then the main pastor at a different church, which required his full attention. He had to put Olly on the back burner, and the character lost momentum. Ballentine says he was about to hang up his plush otter feet for good in 2017, when he started getting requests to play Olly again.

The renewed interest led Ballentine to connect with Kids Day of Lexington, which hosts family-friendly events in the Midlands. Olly the Otter became the official mascot of Kids Day, and Ballentine, now the nonprofit’s program director, launched an initiative called Meaningful Play for children facing significant health issues.

“Our motto is ‘Play that heals.’ When you smile and feel at ease, your body responds to that. Play might not cure anything, but it can definitely provide much needed healing and moments that really matter,” he says.

As Olly the Otter, Ballentine visits kids and their families at home and at group events held throughout the year. Home visits allow immunocompromised children to play with Olly in a safe environment, while the larger events bring together a growing community of kids with challenging health conditions. More than 90 families have gotten involved so far.

“We just celebrated our five-year anniversary. We call our kids Warriors. Many of them have cancer or other serious illness, but we also care for the parents and the siblings,” he says. “And when we have kids who pass away, those are our legacy families. We stick around for them, especially the siblings, because now they’re Warriors in a different way.”

Walking with families

Ballentine has involved his own family in his work as Olly. His wife is his official handler when he’s in costume, and they sometimes dress their two kids up in tiny Olly costumes. Last Halloween they paid a visit to a Warrior who was too sick to go out.

“For years, this little boy was so isolated, but he was allowed to be around Olly. That night Lucas and his sister were able to trick-or-treat with the little otters and Olly. We brought them all kinds of gifts,” he says. “That was the last time we got to be around them.”

When Lucas died, his parents had a request: Since Olly had been so important to their son, they wanted Ballentine to officiate the funeral. He’s done the same for Gamecock fans: A couple requested he officiate each of their funerals — years after they knew him as the skinny kid who played Cocky.

“As far as Cocky goes, there’s so much passion in Gamecock fans that’s embodied into something they can touch, something they can hug, and it means so much to be there for them at a vulnerable moment,” he says. “It touches their hearts.”

While Ballentine sometimes misses his time as a mascot for sporting events — the cheers, the stadium lights, the enthusiastic fans — he says he wouldn’t trade his new role and mission for anything.

“Being Cocky was an amazing experience. Coming out of the magic box was phenomenal, and I’m always going to treasure that,” he says. “Being Olly is definitely different. It’s more relational, but it’s so significant.

“With Olly, the special element is choosing to walk into a hard situation as this big piece of imagination and totally surrendering to whatever is needed in that moment. That’s the magic of play.”