I'll make you a deal. I'll promise not to make any puns, resisting a fowl ball joke, or questioning whether the egg came first.
In exchange, allow me to gush. I am 100 percent smitten by the San Diego Chicken.
For a while, the only photo on my desk was a tacked-up publicity shot of him turning a double play, a feathery Felix Fermin.
At home, I have a cartoon art deco poster of the game's greatest mascots, The Chicken a side dish next to the Brewers' sausage racers.
I sent away for a T-shirt with the Chicken's rainbow visage on the front. I'll argue that The Chicken is one of the 10 greatest athletes in the history of my hometown, somewhere between Tony Gwynn and Shamu.
He's the original pro sports mascot. He's appeared at more than 7,000 games, plus maybe another 21,000 public appearances.
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He's appeared before about 60 million fans, from presidents to Elvis Presley.
In his 38th year in the suit, Ted Giannoulas takes another turn in Tucson tonight, appearing at Kino Stadium as the Tucson Padres' Rizzomania remedy.
He won't wear a cooling pack, but he will be having as much fun as you will.
"I probably hold the world's record for the most free baseball seen," he said Thursday, "albeit through a chicken beak."
The gig started in 1974 when a San Diego radio station needed someone to hand out candy Easter eggs at the zoo. Giannoulas, a San Diego State student, was the smallest volunteer.
He fit the suit, and was paid $2 an hour. The next month, he talked his way into the Padres opener.
"I tried to be like a fuzzy Harpo Marx," he said.
Inspired by everyone from Peter Sellers to Bugs Bunny to Steve Martin, The Chicken's gags are legendary. Surrounding a baby's head with his beak. Putting the whammy on the other team. Or taking a peanut vendor's tray, walking five paces and throwing free bags to the crowd.
He stopped doing that bit once - it cost too much to reimburse the vendors - and was summoned to the office of then-Padres owner Ray Kroc. It was the McDonald's magnate's favorite gag, and he wanted it back.
"Send me the bill," he said, and the routine returned.
In 1979, Giannoulas splintered from the station after a lawsuit was "hatched" from a styrofoam egg before 47,000 fans, and then began barnstorming around the world.
He rarely lets the famous suit out of his sight.
In 1981, flying from Florida to New York to appear on a Brent Musburger baseball show, Giannoulas was told there was no room in the overhead compartment for the mascot head.
He disappeared, dressed in costume and sat down.
He's never missed a game, but did go to a hockey match in Wichita, Kan., with only his head and tail. The airline lost his body suit.
Tonight's game is his first barnstorming gig of the season, after once doing 200 dates a year.
He wears through about one suit a year now, down from three. His tail gets the most damage.
I told him Thursday about my favorite bit - when he dresses children as baby chicks, and they lift their leg on an umpire between innings.
My little brother and sister were chicks during a Padres game in 1990. They smacked catcher Benito Santiago's butt. I got to sit next to Bruce Hurst in the dugout.
Giannoulas smiled. At least two current major-leaguers - Nick Swisher and Tony Gwynn Jr. - also were baby chicks as kids.
I asked if it made him feel old.
"The whole process of playing The Chicken keeps me young," he said. "Maybe that's why I haven't put it down yet."
Maybe he'll do this for another two years, make it an even 40 seasons.
Or he could go longer.
"I've always," he said, "flown by the seat of my tail."
Today
• What: Las Vegas at Padres
• When: 7 p.m.
• Special guest: The San Diego Chicken
