Colonel Reb is a fall guy in an attack on history

It was just a few days ago when Pittsburgh Pirates first baseman Randall Simon took a swing at one of the costumed contestants in the bottom of the seventh Sausage Race at a game in Milwaukee.

Hot Italian, the sausage running the outside lane, went down like he (she?) had been clubbed with a corked bat, tripping co-contestant Hot Dog in the process. Both finished out of the money.

Closer to home, Colonel Reb can relate. The costumed character found on the sidelines of Ole Miss football games is on the verge of becoming mascot non grata. Pete Boone, athletic director at Ole Miss, has decided that this product of a one-night stand by Col. Sanders and Big Bird no longer belongs on the premises.

Boone's explanation held that Colonel Reb is "an 18th-century person who doesn't fit anything we do."

Colonel Reb has reason to be perturbed. Yes, he may be a bit out of step with the times, but the SEC sidelines are littered with goofy costumed critters, including more than a couple that -- now what was that phrase again? Oh, yes -- just don't look athletic.

Traditions die hard in the SEC, which might account for the public outcry that accompanied the demotion of Colonel Reb at Ole Miss. But while many Ole Miss fans look at Colonel Reb and see a proud history and tradition, most of the country sees a wealthy plantation owner whose estate was built on the enslavement of others.

There was enough hue and cry that Ole Miss Chancellor Robert Khayat felt compelled to enter the fray, announcing that Colonel Reb would continue to appear at some sports-related functions. Further, Khayat reassured fans that there were no plans to change the nickname from Rebels to, say, Revisionists.

Count that as a minor victory for Colonel Reb and others who are consumed by costumes.