In between bites of iceberg lettuce, Eric Cusimano details the ins and outs of his life as the sole male member of Georgetown’s cheerleading squad. Sporting khakis, a white baseball hat and black fleece, Cusimano is the picture of the Joe Hoya stereotype. At a superficial glance, you might guess that his extracurricular activities were confined to intramural basketball and slap bag. Instead, the freshman from Louisiana devotes his spare time to acrobatic feats, frenzied cheers and getting up close and personal with the smiling, be-ribboned girls ESPN cameramen love to spotlight.
In the heat of a basketball game, Cusimano’s polished dinner manners melt away; the khakis are replaced by full cheering raiment—navy pants and shirt with “Hoyas” emblazoned across the chest—and he exudes an unmistakable intensity, striding up and down the baseline as he leads cheers with an old-fashioned megaphone.
Cusimano is no newcomer to the cheerleading arena. His stepmother coaches his high school squad, and in his senior year, when the team was lacking in numbers, she asked him to cheer. Letting the idea of joining “sizzle for a few days,” Cusimano says he decided to help them out. He’s been at it ever since, even e-mailing Georgetown’s coach prior to the school year to discuss his possible involvement on the collegiate level.
Most Hoya basketball fans can identify Cusimano as the guy who performs the flag run before every home game, a ritual he relishes. White court-shoes flashing, he emerges from the tunnel and sprints onto the floor, straight-backed and tight-lipped as he holds the 20 foot Georgetown flag aloft, stopping at center court to swing the standard dramatically before exiting.
The job of flag-bearer is not without its hazards, however, as Cusimano discovered during warm-ups at the Villanova game earlier this season. While performing his usual half-court routine, Villanova guard Mike Nardi became enraged with Cusimano after he appeared to be hit with the flag while going for a ball. Cusimano denies that he struck the 6-foot-2-inch senior, but admits that he was a little intimidated by Nardi’s aggressive reaction to the incident.
“I apologized after the game in the tunnel,” Cusimano says, “but I don’t know if he heard.”
In addition to his infamous flag run, Cusimano is working on incorporating other elements of showmanship into his performances with the squad. When this reporter mentioned the flips he executes during the half-time show, he perked up and smiled delightedly, “So you noticed? That’s good!”
Though Cusimano’s solidly muscular and compact build could easily blend into any posse of male gymnasts, he never had any acrobatic training until this summer, when he began to take classes in preparation for his move to college cheerleading.
Initially, the gymnastics instructor was a little apprehensive about teaching him how to flip, but by the time August rolled around, Cusimano was ready.
“I knew what I was doing, but I wasn’t comfortable on my own.”
The first time he performed a flip by himself was on the eventful afternoon of the Villanova game. But it is obvious that Cusimano now takes his acrobatics seriously; he tapes his wrists before games to prevent injury and has dropped from 185lbs to 175, in part to make his flips easier, though he claims that he is a “lifelong dieter” anyway.
There is a glint of southern affectation in Cusimano’s voice as he informs me that “the further to the south, the more male influence you’ll find in the sport.”
Perhaps it is due to this cultural acceptance that Cusimano appears so comfortable in his position as a male cheerleader; President George W. Bush is another southern boy who found his niche in college cheering. The fact that the team is overwhelmingly female does not seem to daunt Cusimano, who says the girls have “been very accommodating.”
He points out that stunts with male cheerleaders “go higher and faster” and says that though cheering at games is his first priority, he would “like to see us compete.” More male squad members could help in the realization of this goal, and Cusimano says that he talks “to as many people as I can about joining.” A male high school senior who is applying to Georgetown has expressed interest in joining the squad, but he has not been accepted yet. For now, Cusimano will remain the sole representative of his sex for Georgetown cheerleading.
As is true with any sports team, Cusimano says he spends a fair amount of time with his teammates. In addition to two practices a week, he works out with the other cheerleaders.
“I lift with the girls as much as I can, granted, them spotting me is a little difficult,” he said.
But his relations with the girls are strictly platonic; he shies away from the complications of inter-squad romance.
“I don’t date anyone I cheer with,” he said.
Indeed, it is clear that Cusimano isn’t just in it for the short skirts; he takes his cheering seriously and has a pre-game ritual as involved as any compulsively superstitious slugger’s. His routine begins the night before, when Cusimano lays out his uniform (stored separately from the rest of his wardrobe). On the way to the game he pops two Advil and a Sudafed, and once he reaches the Verizon Center he applies his tape and dons sweatbands “more or less just for show.”
His pre-game soundtrack is just as important for his mental preparation; he has separate playlists for the ride to the game, the warm-up, and a third on hand in case there is some lag time before tip-off. The last song he listens to before gametime is “Heart of a Champion” by Nelly.
Cusimano seems to have come to think of himself as just another member of the squad—almost. When asked if he ever dances with the team in their foot-stomping, booty-shaking routine, Cusimano demurs.
“Not yet, but it may happen.”
