The man behind the paint

I make kids cry and old ladies swoon.

Might be the grease paint.

Could be the orange skirt of pompoms.

After four years in this getup, I'm not quite sure.

The Oklahoma State-Nebraska men's basketball game Saturday will be my last time as the OSU Skirt Guy; I dance around on the floor, harass the other team and attempt to put as much into the game as the players.

The looks I get at the games are what anyone would expect. Some children laugh but most look confused while they whisper to their parents, "Boys aren't supposed to look like that."

There is a joke that I have an old lady fan club.

Most just want pictures, but once, while leaving a game, an older woman pinched my butt through my skirt.

It takes some work to get to look that good for the ladies.

My wife, Holly, helps me get dressed in a stairwell in Gallagher-Iba Arena and has painting my body down to a 15-minute science, including writing "Go Pokes" across my chest. I complete the outfit with 25 orange pompoms tucked into my shorts, my 7-year-old, formerly white-turned-brown hat and my megaphone from the 2005 start of ESPNU that is held together with duct tape and branded with the words "Never Graduate."

A few times while I was undergoing the transformation, a few members of my "fan club" have stopped by the stairwell to tell me they will miss me. I will miss them, too.

This has been a tradition for me that started at Bedlam football in 2006. My friends and I painted our chests for the game and were handed pompoms when we entered Boone Pickens Stadium. We jokingly stuffed them into our shorts and had no idea what we had created.

Now, even the fans who don't make it to the games know who I am.

After more than 100 games, I have been on TV so much there is a watch party in Dallas that uses me as a drinking game.

Even with that fame, my seat along the baseline next to the band is not reserved for me. I get in line early or camp out for most of the games to earn that seat. Camping is half of the fun of OSU basketball.

Camping helped me meet Holly, but I also made some of my favorite memories while roughing it in "Camp Sutton," "Gundyville" and "Ford's Fjord."

Balancing camping and games with classes and work can be difficult for most students.

Imagine my surprise when the only 4.0 grade point average I got in my college career was during the 2006-07 Big 12 conference play while my friends and I camped for 48 days straight.

I also camped out the night before Bedlam 2009 when I decided I would rather sleep in front of the doors than get up early the next morning; I brought my cot and sleeping bag to Gallagher-Iba for the night. The next morning at 6, a staff member at Gallagher-Iba poked at my sleeping bag, covered in frost, to make sure I was alive.

"Is someone in there?" she asked. "Oh! It's just you."

After I crawl out of my tent and into Stillwater, I often enjoy being seen around town as "That guy. That guy from the games!"

"That guy" gets recognized everywhere. The craziest Skirt Guy sighting happened one night while out for dinner. Holly and I were seated in the same section as the Gundy family but kept to ourselves so we would not ruin the Gundys' meal.

To our surprise, OSU football coach Mike Gundy walked to our table and asked whether I was Skirt Guy.

"You're our favorite!" Gundy said.

After talking with us for a few minutes, he returned to his family. Before Gundy and his family left, he stopped by again with one of his sons to get a picture. I'm sure my jaw dropped to the table when they left.

The Gundys' reactions shouldn't surprise me; I am one of the biggest fans in the country. Being well-known around Stillwater is fun, but being noticed outside of the OSU community is awesome. My favorite moment was in Detroit in the spring.

I won a national fan contest and earned a trip to the Final

Four, where I and three other crazy fans from around the country had to dress in our game-day costumes and promote Coca-Cola Zero.

We were on the local Fox affiliate's morning show, and when we returned to the hotel, Blake Griffin, at the time an Oklahoma basketball star, was leaving. He stared me down as if I were going to play him one-on-one. He knew who I was but had no idea why I was haunting him in Detroit.

Later that day at a radio show, I ran into him again and congratulated him for winning player of the year. I shook his hand and maybe got him slightly orange.

I was not always this well-known, nor was this popularity my goal. Dressing up and being a crazy fan is the responsibility of every student in the student section. That's just how I was raised in Tulsa.

Now, somehow, I have become a face for the university. I did not fully grasp this concept until basketball tickets were given out this year. Each ticket featured a picture of a different player or coach Travis Ford, except one. The ticket for the first game featured Pistol Pete with my orange body standing in front of him. Unfortunately, I was missed that game because I was in a wedding. But I have several keepsake copies, thanks to donations.

As much of an honor as being on a ticket was, I also find imitation the most sincere form of flattery, so when two Stillwater youngsters painted up and put in their pompoms for Halloween, I was at a loss for words.

Boone Pickens kissing my left cheek Feb. 27 also left me speechless.

It seems that I'm giving Pistol Pete a run for his money, not that anyone could trump Pete, but if he thinks carrying that head is a workout, he should try some of my dance moves.

I move nonstop during a game. Whether I'm jumping and yelling while OSU is on defense or running laps around the court celebrating a big play, my job never gets a timeout.

Timeouts are when I have to work the hardest. While the band plays, my uncoordinated dance moves work up a sweat, but three water bottles will get me through a game.