As the dust has mostly settled on conference realignment in the Big 12, nearly every angle of the different schools’ moves have been beaten to death — athletics, academics, economics, etc.

However, an incredibly important consequence of realignment has been largely and irresponsibly ignored: the issue of mascot environment.

We all know how comfortably or awkwardly TCU and West Virginia’s sports programs or fans might fit in with other Big 12 schools, as well as what the conference has lost or gained by Missouri and Texas A&M’s departure.

But what about the furry/bearded/bumpy/terrifying mascots that symbolize everything that the school stands for? Are they a good fit for the Big 12?

First of all, West Virginia brings a very peculiar mascot to the Big 12 with the Mountaineer. With the departure of Colorado, the only Big 12 member situated anywhere close to a mountain range, does the Mountaineer have any place in this conference?

Probably not, but dollars drive realignment, not mascot comfort, so both the Mountaineer and his new Big 12 companions will have to adjust.

It seems very likely that the Mountaineer will find himself completely out of sorts in the flatlands of the Midwest, especially with the equipment he must carry around. His large wooden rifle will be no match for Pistol Pete’s fast draw, and it’ll be a miracle if he can survive the heat of football season in Texas with that thick furry racoon-skin hat and bushy beard he has.

If West Virginia wants any chance of being taken seriously in the Big 12, the Mountaineer will have to carefully consider a wardrobe more suited for prairies than the highlands of the Big East.

On the other hand, it’s doubtful that any mascot will have better home field advantage than the Mountaineer. Yes, Colorado had the advantage of high elevation, but Ralphie the Buffalo wasn’t nearly nimble enough to take advantage of the terrain. Texas’ lethargic longhorn was probably just as suited for the landscape.

The Mountaineer, on the other hand, will completely outmatch mascots like Iowa State’s Cyclone or Oklahoma’s wagon-bound Sooner in the highlands. Bruiser the Bear from Baylor may be the only mascot suited to take on the Mountaineer.

TCU, on the other hand, brings a much more bizarre mascot with the Horned Frog, technically named SuperFrog. Unimaginative name aside, a quick Google search reveals that the first problem with SuperFrog is that he’s actually a horned lizard, and not a frog at all. Horned frogs actually live in South America and Asia ­— nowhere close to Texas.

And while the symbol of a small, quirky reptile that can shoot blood out of its eyes may fit TCU’s former status as a powerful football school in an insignificant conference, it may find itself outmatched facing hardened big-time mascots like Big Jay and Texas Tech’s Red Raider.

It’s probably a safe bet, however, that Willie the Wildcat will lose his head (which constitutes all of his mascot-ness) should SuperFrog ever pull his blood-squirting move.

— edited by Jayson Jenks