Condiments, College Football and Cult Followings: How Two Fans Became a Part of the Viral Duke’s Mayo Bowl Tradition
It was the day before New Years Eve, 2021. South Carolina football head coach Shane Beamer sat in the center of the room and listened as cheers of anticipation grew—but something far from a ball in Times Square was about to be dropped. Two women, donned in shirts that read “I’m just here for the Mayo,” lifted a jug-style cooler (most often seen being used to dump Gatorade over the winning coach’s head games at, you know, normal sporting events) filled with mayonnaise. With one extra push, it was hoisted easily above their shoulders—so easily that it would almost make you think, “Wow, I could probably do that.” But then it started to tip, and the momentum of over 30 pounds of mayonnaise (one gallon weighs about 7.5 pounds, so that’s really an underestimation) brought it down with a bonk, bouncing off Beamer’s Gamecocks ball cap-covered head as the thick, white condiment coated his upper body.
This year, either NC State head coach Dave Doeren or Maryland head coach Mike Locksley will have the honor of getting dumped on following the 2022 Duke’s Mayo Bowl. But it’s not just the coach himself who will be different—the dumpers will be too. After the bonk heard ‘round the world, Duke’s Mayo began a search for new “Mayo Dumpers,” officially announcing the open role to fans via social media in November. Well, first, the company sent Beamer a hard hat as an apology, which he promptly shared on Twitter. Then, after that was taken care of, they turned to the fans.
Allison Vick, the owner and founder of Little Blue Bakehouse in Raleigh, N.C., was a Duke’s fan before she was a college football fan, having not become invested in the sport until she went to college at, coincidentally, NC State. Growing up in North Carolina, Duke’s mayonnaise was “built into your core memories,” the 35-year-old says. She didn’t go without it until 2011, when she moved to Austin, Texas.
“I couldn't find Dukes anywhere. I found one grocery store. One had teeny, tiny little jars. I bought like seven jars the first day,” Vick says, worried people would catch on and it would sell out. “And then like by the time I left, you could get Duke’s almost anywhere, but it was like that part of the country hadn't caught on to how intense the Southern love for Duke’s is.”
Not only does Vick use Duke’s to make macarons, but it’s also a key ingredient in her chocolate ganache filling.
Courtesy of Kenneth Wical
Fast forward a decade, and Vick is filming herself baking a batch of Duke’s Mayo macarons, originally intended as a gift to another chef and fellow fan of the brand. (One of the hardest parts of being a small business owner, she adds, is having to think about content all the time.) So when a friend messaged her about the Mayo Dumper post, she knew she had to apply. “I was killing three birds with one stone by getting something on my work Instagram account, making these macarons for chefs that I know are also huge Duke fans and being able to use it as a contest entry,” Vick says.
Kevin DeValk’s (a.k.a Klurt, Mayo Dumper Extraordinaire, on Twitter) campaign for the role grew from a college football community on social media, that—once DeValk submitted his Rocky-style application video, filmed primarily by his nine-year-old son—peppered the Duke’s Twitter account’s replies and mentions with his name. Now that DeValk has been selected, they’re all celebrating; one of his friends from social media is even hosting a tailgate in honor of DeValk’s new role.
A Wisconsin native, the 35-year-old didn’t join the Duke’s fandom until about 10 years ago, when he and his wife moved to North Carolina. (He’s not ashamed to admit they jumped on the bandwagon.) He likes baking, but the furthest he’s gone with Duke’s Mayo is an attempted chocolate cake, plus a mayonnaise-eggnog concoction.
DeValk grew up as a diehard Badgers fan, but he and his wife (pictured here with their son) picked up Wake Forest as their local team to root for in North Carolina.
Courtesy of Kevin DeValk
DeValk’s biggest worry, he says, is managing the weight transfer of the mayonnaise as it slides down to avoid another accident during dumping. So, as part of his application video, DeValk (an engineer by day) compared the densities of water and mayonnaise to calculate how much he needed to fill a jug and prove he could lift the estimated weight load. Likewise, Vick lifts 50-pound bags of sugar on a regular basis as a baker, in addition to two kids who weigh over 30 pounds apiece, she says.
DeValk and Vick were announced as the 2022 Mayo Dumpers the day after Selection Sunday—rebranded "Mayo Dump Monday” in honor of the announcement.
“It's about finding opportunities along the path to the game to continue to keep it front and center and drive in anticipation,” says Joe Tuza, the business lead on the Duke’s Mayonnaise brand.
Using social media to drive engagement and get the community involved, is “the most fan-friendly way to do it,” Tuza adds.
It’s taken the cult following for the condiment to a new level. From Duke’s tattoos—which Tuza claims, and Vick corroborates, there are thousands of out in the world—to the $10,000 donation that is made to a charity of the winning coach’s choosing, fans have taken the Mayo Bowl, and the Duke’s brand, and morphed them into something much bigger than a jar.
“It was about being part of a culture, being part of, specifically Southern culture, which is where the roots of Duke's mayonnaise is strong… There's not a lot of things in life that have as much passion as some of our fans do for Duke’s, but college football is one of them,” Tuza says.
