Even Ole Miss baseball's semi-retired 'Michael Myers of Swayze' got a well-deserved Omaha moment
Matt Lowry knew exactly what to do.
It had been over a decade since he debuted his Michael Myers bit in the left-field bleachers of Swayze Field. Lowry and a friend — two die-hard Ole Miss baseball fans — were perusing a preseason Oxford Eagle story on walkout songs for the Rebel pitchers and hitters.
A true freshman right-hander named Mike Mayers (pronounced Myers, like the classic villain in the horror movie franchise) was using the now-legendary Halloween theme song, which Lowry simply found hilarious.
He went online and bought a mask almost immediately. His watch was officially on.
“That was when Mike was in the bullpen, so I had to bring it to every game,” Lowry said.
Lowry … err … The Michael Myers of Swayze … finally got his chance during the Alabama series in 2011.
Mayers, at long last, was making his Ole Miss debut — which jump-started an accomplished Rebel career and extended run in Major League Baseball with three separate organizations.
Mayers eventually grew into Ole Miss’ Sunday starter. Lowry, then, had a decision to make. He’d have to truly commit to the mask for potentially multiple seasons of Mayers starts — even if it meant countless innings (and hours) standing completely silent and still whenever Mayers was on the mound.
“I had to wear it a lot longer, but at least I knew when I needed to bring it,” Lowry said.
But Lowry did just that.
There he was, each and every Sunday, stoically standing, even if fellow Ole Miss fans constantly gathered for pictures with him. Or his friends pelted him with whatever they could get their hands on to try and make him break.
Lowry never moved — with a resolve and stubbornness that would even make The King’s Guard at Buckingham Palace blush.
The bit had caught on by the end of the 2011 season. Lowry made the home Jumbotron multiple times. National television broadcasts sometimes pointed him out.
But, as with everything in life, the mask couldn’t last forever.
“I said all along I wouldn’t bring it out again unless it was a chance to go to Omaha,” he said. “What better way to send it out than that?”
Lowry had snuck the mask into Game 2 of the College World Series.
Ole Miss was a win away from sweeping Oklahoma and claiming the program’s first-ever national championship — the final chapter in a storybook postseason run last summer. The Rebels, as one of the final teams named to the NCAA Tournament, had won nine of their 10 postseason games.
Just one more meant glory.
Lowry, though, was always superstitious with the mask — but even more so in Omaha and the mask years into its semi-retirement. Mayers hasn’t been an Ole Miss Rebel in a long time. He was a third-round selection of the St. Louis Cardinals in the 2013 MLB Draft.
Lowry didn’t tell anyone he had it with him. Sure, he broke it out for Tim Elko’s last out of the Hattiesburg Super Regional, when Ole Miss exorcised so many demons and convincingly punched its ticket to Omaha.
Ole Miss in the Mike Bianco era up to that point had been 1-8 in CWS advancement opportunities. The Michael Myers of Swayze couldn’t miss it.
But this was different. This was everything. This was what it all was for.
“I was like, ‘I’m taking this bad boy to the stadium,’” he said.
So, Lowry reached down.
Yes, he’s a full-on adult now with a family and a job that takes him all over the country. His life, like the rest of us, is filled with mortgage rates and constant checks of the Weather app. With dirty diapers and soccer practices and bed times at reasonable hours.
Still, he’d had a role to play in the last 20 years of Ole Miss baseball, which had produced just as many devastating, debilitating lows as incredible, never-before-seen highs.
So, he threw the mask on, as if reuniting with an old friend. Then he turned towards the field and simply … watched. Of course he did.
Brandon Johnson, the dominant Ole Miss reliever, shut the door and the Rebels dog-piled on the mound. The Michael Myers of Swayze? He kept standing. He looked the same as he always had — only, underneath the mask, the tears were swelling.
Lowry didn’t move. Unflinchingly and unapologetically, even if Omaha — all week completely dominated by Ole Miss fans — descended into absolute bedlam around him.
Ole Miss Baseball. National Champions.
“It was so much more than just a team getting hot and winning a title,” Lowry said. “It may seem like that on the surface, but it’s so much more than that.”
Lowry allowed himself a moment as the confetti settled and fans started pouring out.
A few Rebels remembered him and wanted pictures. But the mask — a small part of the culture grown into something bigger — wasn’t drawing the same response it used to.
Lowry didn’t care a bit. It was never about 15 minutes of fame or social media virality. Social media was barely getting started when The Michael Myers of Swayze made his debut anyway.
He simply wanted to share in the experience. To live in it. Just like the thousands of other Ole Miss fans in Omaha that JUST HAD TO BE THERE. Such moments are the rarest of rare.
Because Lowry still holds onto the road trips with the mask to Athens and Alex Box and Hoover. He remains close with Mayers, as well as Mayers’ parents and sister. He remembers fondly, back in 2012, when Mayers jumped the left-field fence after an Ole Miss win and jogged to meet him and shake his hand for the first time.
Or when Mayers reached out to him years later when he was pitching in New Orleans for the Memphis Redbirds, the Cardinals’ AAA affiliate. He wanted Lowry doing the Halloween bit in the stands.
There was the time — before the potentially-series-clinching Sunday showdown with then-No. 1 Florida in 2012 — Lowry was asked to assist with the pregame team meeting. He woke up that morning to a missed call and voicemail from a number he didn’t know.
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It was Brian Cain, at the time Ole Miss baseball’s sports psychologist.
“Cain was like, ‘Guys, get your mind right. We’ve got the best Sunday pitcher (Mayers) going in America today. Let’s go,’ and they immediately started playing the Halloween music,” Lowry said. “I was just standing there in the back.
“The players loved it. The whole team filed out giving me (fist-bumps) and high-fives.”
Ole Miss won on a walk-off hit from Senquez Golson to score pitcher Bobby Wahl.
“It was even cooler that we went out and won,” Lowry said. “Mike pitched really well that day.”
Lowry wanted to be at Mayers’ MLB debut.
Alas, life happened. He still hasn’t gotten the chance to break the mask out for one of Mayers’ MLB games, but the now-31-year-old Mayers in December signed a minor league contract with Lowry’s favorite team, the Kansas City Royals.
There’s hope yet.
Put simply, The Michael Myers of Swayze will one day return. He’s never saying never. Hey, Stone Cold Steve Austin once said he’d never wrestle again. Hulk Hogan only shows up for Wrestlemanias.
Oh, and Ole Miss has never dog-piled a Super Regional win at home.
“It’ll have to be a special occasion, but it has a chance to make another appearance for sure,” Lowry said. “At the end of the day, it was a dumb, stupid thing. But it was great getting to know Mike and several of the players.”
