They're trying to draw the attention of a team mascot who stands on the dugout steps, a guy dressed in a tuxedo and bow tie.

"Do magic!" one kid calls.

"I don't do magic," comes the reply.

"C'mon," another kid shouts. "Do it!"

The man sighs. Mistaken for a magician - again. Such is the fate of Mr. Trash, a happy-footed, garbage-grabbing whirlwind who must surely rank among the quirkiest mascots in baseball, starting with his name.

Trash and New Jersey, perfect together? It's not exactly Florida and orange juice.

Let's face it, the Garden State has an image problem. You wonder what team executives were thinking when they came up with Mr. Trash.

Seven years on, the origins of Mr. Trash have been largely lost amid the turnover that defines a baseball team in an independent league. Stu Cohen, director of business development, wasn't with the Riversharks then, but he recalls that a sponsor, Waste Management of Ewing, N.J., wanted a character that reflected the business.

In real life, Mr. Trash is - naturally - a guy from New Jersey named Vinny.

That's Vincent Tarricone, 22. He lives in Blackwood with his parents and two brothers, and works full time at a mortgage company. He's a huge baseball fan. If you want (and you probably don't), he'll tell you about the stacks of baseball cards in his closet.

Tarricone has performed as Mr. Trash since 2001, inheriting the role when he was a 16-year-old high school student in need of a summer job.

"I went to a meeting, and they said, 'You're going to be a couple of mascots. One is going to be Mr. Trash.'

"I said, 'What is that?' They said, 'He's an usher, and he dances on the field.' I said, 'That's dumb.' "

Dumb, but brilliant.

Part of the intrigue of Mr. Trash is the uncertainty over exactly what he's supposed to be or do. His official biography says he's an usher. But what usher wears a tuxedo with a Waste Management logo on the back? Or dances madly past home plate to the beat of OutKast's "The Way You Move"?

When the music fades, Mr. Trash whips out a plastic garbage bag - as if producing a dove from thin air. Then, as if that needed topping, he proceeds. To. Pick. Up. Trash. Slowly. He goes fan to fan, collecting mustard-smeared wrappers and empty cups.

This is not the sort of act that wows them at Carnegie Hall. But people love him.

"He's great," Eileen Boyer of Deptford said at the game Tuesday night. "I think he's a good dancer."

These days, it's not just the team's Finley the shark who gets invited to carnivals and Little League events. The Polish American barbecue couldn't possibly proceed without Mr. Trash.