Every BYU game day, Kerry becomes Crazy Coug, front-row fanatic and iconic fan, giving paint, wig and heart to inspire the stadium, the team, and the Cougar community he calls home.
The paint comes first.
Hours before kickoff at LaVell Edwards Stadium, while students tailgate and the mountains sit quietly above Provo, Kerry Olsen sits alone in his truck.
Heavy metal blasts through the speakers. He calls it meditation.
“I come down four hours before a game,” Olsen said. “I play certain music full blast. And I just kind of meditate and come up with a face paint.”
Blue and white paint waits in open containers. Some weeks he already knows the design. Other weeks he scrolls through ideas on his phone. Sometimes his wife suggests patterns.
Then he begins.
Slow strokes across his cheeks. A careful line across the nose. He checks the balance and adjusts.
Only when the paint is finished does he reach for the wig.
Bright blue. Unmistakable.
“And as soon as I put that face paint on, that wig — Crazy Coug is there,” he said.
The quiet man disappears.
In his place stands the front-row fixture thousands of BYU fans recognize — the one waving, shouting and rallying a stadium every BYU football game in the fall.
For 26 years, Olsen has occupied the same front-row seat in the south end zone at LaVell Edwards Stadium.
The phone call
Olsen never set out to become a recognizable part of BYU football. It started with a phone call around the year 2000.
“I was just sitting at home one Saturday,” he said. “A guy from BYU called me and said they were looking for wild, crazy fans to help fill the stands and root for the Cougars.”
Olsen told him about a moment he still remembered vividly — the Luke Staley run against Utah.
“I had a blue BYU flag, and I was going back and forth on that play,” he said.
If they could find him two seats in the south end zone, front row, he would buy them.
“They found you two seats,” he remembered the caller saying.
“Why not? I’ll buy them,” Olsen said.
He never left.
“And from there, you know, 26 years.”
The Alter Ego
Football had always given Olsen a switch he could flip.
“When I played football, when I put on my helmet, I’m an animal,” he said. “But if I take off my helmet, then I’m cool.”
The face paint became that helmet.
“I’m pretty well a normal guy,” he said. “Crazy Coug, he’s a crazy dude. But it’s true to my heart. Nothing’s fake.”
At first, the paint wasn’t for every game. But after one night early on, fans confronted him when he showed up without it.
“They told me, ‘We see you, and we react the way you react. Are you a Fairweather fan?’” Olsen said.
He never skipped it again.
“From that day forth, I’ve always worn my face paint. Win or lose. If we’re good, we’re bad,” Olsen said.
He sees himself representing more than just himself.
“A lot of fans are up way high and not seen on camera,” he said. “I kind of want to be representative of them and cheer really hard.”
Becoming 'that guy'
Before the name “Crazy Coug” came in 2021, people knew him simply as “that guy.”
His wife, Amy, remembers when recognition spread beyond Provo.
“We went to New York to pick up my son from his mission,” she said. “And the guy is like, ‘No, wait — you’re that guy?’”
It still happens in ordinary places.
“She sees his picture on his shirt and says, ‘You’re that guy?’” she said. “My husband got a picture with you not too long ago.”
Olsen has learned to carry that responsibility.
“It puts a lot of pressure on me,” he said. “Because the way I represent, I can’t do certain things.”
After a heated moment that was once shared on social media, he changed how he reacted.
“My wife told me you can’t do that," he said. "People see you and how you act.”
Learning To Share Saturdays
In the earlier years of marriage, his wife struggled with the time commitment.
“He would be gone all day long,” Amy said. “It took me a little while to not be annoyed by that.”
Eventually, she accepted it and found herself saying, “Who cares? This is what he loves. Let him have this passion.”
During football season, she jokes about the hierarchy.
“He says BYU football is his second wife. No — during the season, BYU football is his first wife,” Amy said.
Now she helps with ideas and watches fans approach him regularly.
“He really prefers to do his own face paint,” she said. “But he loves when people recognize him.”
Kerry Olsen agrees.
“My wife has been the biggest supporter for me,” he said. “She’s my best friend.”
A seat that mattered
When stadium reseating happened, Olsen wondered if his spot would change.
Instead, he received a call from former BYU tight end Chad Lewis.
“The best part of my interaction with Kerry is letting him know that we want him sitting right where he’s sitting,” Lewis said. “Because he is an iconic BYU fan.”
Lewis assured him his seat would remain.
“You are really, actually important to what we’re doing. We want you sitting right there. He was brought to tears,” Lewis said. “He loved it. He was so grateful.”
Lewis said Olsen is part of the game-day environment.
“People expect to see him on the big screen. They expect to see him sitting in his seat, and they expect to see him going bananas.”
The village
A year and a half ago, Olsen was diagnosed with prostate cancer.
His wife remembers the response when he shared it online.
“The support that poured into him — that is his village,” Amy said. “They buoy him up.”
🚨🚨BYU NATION 🚨🚨
— Chubby's University Mall (@ChubbysOrem) March 11, 2025
Our good friend and #BYU super fan @crazycoug175511 has been diagnosed w/ prostate cancer and is in need of our help. We are having a fundraiser all day this Thursday March 13th to help lighten the financial burden. @BYUfootball #GoCougs @TomHolmoe… pic.twitter.com/0gJ0SU2fnR
Lewis said Olsen never stopped showing up.
“He will come to the games and empty his bucket of excitement and enthusiasm for the team,” Lewis said. “And he’s exhausted afterwards. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.”
For Olsen, loyalty defines fandom.
“A fan is a person who likes the team no matter what,” he said. “No matter what, I’m BYU.”
Watching the crowd watch him
During games, Olsen rarely sits.
By the second quarter, cameras usually find him. When he appears on the video board, sections of the stadium react almost instantly — students point, families wave and strangers turn toward the south end zone.
Olsen notices it happening in waves.
“When I cheer hard, they cheer,” he said. “They can be seen through me.”
For him, the role is less about visibility and more about connection. He knows many fans in the upper sections may never appear on television, but they still want to feel part of the moment.
“A lot of them are up way high,” he said. “They’re not seen on camera. I kind of want to be representative of them.”
That visibility has led to years of interactions — fans returning with old photos, children asking for pictures, and families remembering meeting him seasons earlier.
“I get people coming up, taking pictures with me,” Olsen said. “They’ll say, ‘Ten or fifteen years ago you took a picture with my son.’”
His wife has watched those encounters repeat over time.
“It’s just really fun to be able to watch how excited people are to see him,” she said.
The attention still surprises him.
“I didn’t do this for that,” Olsen said. “I did it because I love football.”
But over time, he has accepted what the role means.
“I think I’m finally accepting it,” he said. “People live through football through me.”
When the wig comes off
After the game ends and the stadium empties, Olsen walks back to his truck.
If it’s a night game, he won’t get home until after midnight.
The paint comes off.
“And then Crazy Coug goes away for five days,” he said. “And I’m just a normal guy. Go do my work. Look forward to next Saturday.”
For 26 seasons, through wins, losses, and health battles, Olsen has stood in the same front-row seat — not just as a fan, but as part of the atmosphere that defines BYU football.
The music will start again soon enough. The paint will come first. The wig will follow.
And when the stadium lights rise this fall, Crazy Coug will be right where Cougar Nation expects him to be.