A century ago, a group of students gathered on the hill of Memorial Stadium to whitewash the giant “M” carved above Faurot Field with leftover rock from the stadium’s construction. They weren’t there to accumulate credit hours or fish for participation points; they were starting a tradition that would bring together generations of Tigers. Fast forward to today, a fair few students couldn’t tell you why the “M” is there at all, let alone that it was built by students and is repainted by members of the freshman class each fall.

That disconnect captures something larger: the University of Missouri has always been defined by its traditions. However, too many have been diluted, reshaped or quietly abandoned. What once made us unique is too often reduced to nostalgic brochure copy.

MU is loud and proud about its invention of Homecoming. In 1911, athletic director Chester Brewer called on alumni to “come home” for the first big game against the University of Kansas, and the idea caught fire. Early Homecomings were exactly what Brewer envisioned: true campus-wide reunions, complete with student skits, a grand parade and house decorations that transformed entire blocks into art installations. It wasn’t just about football or making the biggest spectacle; it was about fostering community.

Homecoming remains a great affair – arguably the biggest on any Tiger’s calendar – but the event’s spirit is different. For many student organizations, the week isn’t about welcoming back alumni or showing off university pride; it’s all about winning. Even the canned food drive and blood drive, noble on paper, are too often treated as boxes to check on a spreadsheet, rather than genuine efforts to give back to the community.

Gallons of donated blood, sweat and glitter poured into campus decorations, talent competitions and service hours each year seemingly focus less on meaningful philanthropy and more on racking up points on a scorecard.

Yes, canned food drives and service projects happen, but when the motivation is competition over compassion, the gesture starts to feel hollow. Homecoming philanthropy should build pride in MU by giving back to the city of Columbia in a lasting way. Instead, it too often feels like a flashy performance dressed up as a charity event, and its effects seem to vanish as soon as the judges pack up.

Because of this, the question is whether we’re still honoring Brewer’s now-famous call to “come home,” or just tallying points on a scoreboard that seems only to be important to the student body.

Next is a long-standing MU ritual, Stop Day – officially recognized as Reading Day – meant to grant students the Friday before finals to catch their breath and hit the books. It began decades ago as a sacred pause for studying, before quickly morphing into a beloved campus-wide spring fling full of block parties, impromptu concerts and infamous fountain antics.

This tradition certainly hasn’t died; it just seems to have been constricted by university politics. The MU and Columbia Police departments now switch into full control mode every year, strictly enforcing nuisance ordinances through leaflets and heavy patrols. Some police presence during Stop Day is not unheard of, but in recent years they’ve escalated their involvement. With mobile response units and increased enforcement in the East Campus neighborhood, the MU and Columbia Police Departments aim to break up student gatherings before they properly begin. In 2024 alone, dozens of students were arrested – mostly for underage drinking – and police logged dozens of disturbance calls across East Campus. Stop Day may still be on the calendar, but it’s become an example of what tradition looks like when a fear of liability suffocates it. What’s lost isn’t just the day’s spontaneity, but its communal release as well. A sanctioned day of collective exhale has been traded for anxious vigils. Students who fear retribution now slog into finals without that unifying breather, sapped of morale and having missed what many alumni surely call a core memory.

Sure, participating responsibly with police on every corner keeps campus safe, but guardrails are there to be eventually removed. If students are causing legitimate issues, there’s no doubt that they should face punishment. But if the greatest threat to public safety is drunken college students wandering through a neighborhood locally known for its Greek life and house parties, it seems we’ve cut short the catharsis of tradition without any real benefit.

Finally, the Tiger himself, Truman. According to Mizzou Athletics, the nickname “Tigers” has its roots in Civil War-era solidarity among Columbia residents. The “Tigers” were a militia who banded together in order to protect the city of Columbia from “plundering guerrilla bands,” who would often raid small towns.

Our famous moniker sought to instill fear in these groups. 160 years later, the name serves a similar purpose, only with its sights now set on Jayhawks and Razorbacks instead of crooks and bandits.

Originally emblemized by two tigers, “Big Tiger” and “Lil Tiger” were adopted as the university’s mascots before being consolidated in 1981. A student-run contest three years later allowed the beloved feline to brandish the name Truman, after Missouri-born President Harry S. Truman.

Truman has gone on to win multiple Mascot championships from the National Cheerleaders Association, most recently in 2024. Whether due to clever alliteration or sheer, tail-swinging splendor, Truman the Tiger has stood his ground for over 40 years as both an ode to Columbia’s storied past and an emblem of the athletic department’s fighting spirit.

Truman the Tiger still kills it on Faurot Field and in Mizzou Arena, tail-spinning during the “Missouri Waltz,” cranking out push-ups with the ROTC and racking up national mascot titles. But outside of game days, his appearances feel limited and somewhat inauthentic.

Older generations remember mascots with real bite. The earliest Tiger costumes were homemade, clunky and prone to chaos, at times literally losing their heads. You got the sense the student inside might improvise, prank the band or stir up the crowd. Today’s Truman is choreographed, contracted and tightly on-brand.

These antics haven’t disappeared completely, but they’re far more controlled. Today’s Truman still pulls off his signature stunts like arriving at big games in “Truman’s Taxi” (a vintage, university themed fire truck). However, improvisation doesn’t seem to be part of the job description anymore. Nowadays, the role is defined by auditions, tight choreography and a year-long commitment to staying on brand.

Compare that to Auburn’s Aubie, who rides mopeds and clowns with the band, or Syracuse’s Otto the Orange, who can usually be found exploring their campus on a scooter. These mascots supersede their roles as performers. They’re campus legends, and their key consistency is that cherished unpredictability.

Truman makes hundreds of public appearances, but they often read more like a press tour than a student-driven tradition. When the mascot’s every move is scripted, you lose the magic that made him memorable in the first place.

Traditions aren’t just relics of the past; they’re the heartbeat of campus life, imbuing heart into the day-to-day grind of lectures, exams and discussion boards. Homecoming, Stop Day and Truman the Tiger aren’t quirky facts to trot out at alumni cocktail hours. They’re rituals that connect each generation of Tigers to those who came before them. They remind us that we’re part of something bigger than a degree program.

When traditions are watered down into marketing slogans or reduced to fine-print liability warnings, they stop doing the work they were meant to do: uniting us. A tradition only matters if it’s lived and if students take ownership of it. Alumni should see a new generation of Tigers living the same traditions they hold dear. All of this is only possible if the administration can resist the urge to squash spontaneity in the name of order.

Over 100 years ago, Brewer made the call for alumni to come home. Here’s my call: Students and alumni, don’t wait for permission to breathe new life into old customs. University leaders, stop seeing tradition as a risk waiting to be minimized, and start seeing it as an eternal flame that you’re responsible for stoking.

In another hundred years, future Tigers are sure to stand at the foot of the Columns, as most of us have. Will they see a living symbol of community, or wonder what all the fuss was about?

Edited by Ash Merenbloom | [email protected]
Copy edited by Savannah Church and Avery Copeland | [email protected]
Edited by Chase Pray | [email protected]