Check it. Admit it, you’re jealous. I know. Isn’t that one of the great things about heading home for the holidays once you’ve “grown up” and moved away? Those occasions where you find yourself digging through an old drawer and finding some love note you wrote to a chick in sixth grade, or that cut off t-shirt you wore under your high school jersey that you thought was so badass at the time but was actually quite awful in retrospect.
This latest trip home, though, uncovered a real treasure. As my mom bounded down the stairs from a jaunt to the attic with my fiancee to check out some old family relics, she held out a long-forgotten article and naively asked: “do you need this for anything?”
Not surprisingly, the answer was an emphatic, exuberant and unequivocal “yes!” Bad Moon Rison? Are you kidding me!? Of course, I have absolutely no realistic use for such a garment at this time, but it traveled back to New York City with me as my future wife shot me an incredulous look that was part how-old-are-you and part you’ve-got-to-be-f-in-kidding me.
To explain the cultural significance of the random jersey and its relative importance to my fashion repertoire in middle school/junior high was simply too great a task. How to explain that these were some of my most prized possesions? Was it even worth breaking down how in fifth grade I had a black turtleneck and a gold one each of which was used exclusively to color coordinate with my replica New Orleans Saints jersey? Should I break down the costs of the iron-on style letters/numbers versus the tackle twill? No, people simply mock what they do not understand.
My Rison jersey specifically did not score tremendous points on the random scale like some others. Instead, it was just money. I think I got it shortly after Andre arrived in Hotlanta. The most frightening fact is that it still almost fits, which speaks more to how absurdly I must have looked in said garment when I was a wee buck. Oh, if I only I had a picture. Others in my hallowed jersey history included a Pats Bledsoe jersey (no matter my love for the Jets and hatred for New England), said Saints jersey (I believe with my own last name…terrible), a nameless Colorado Buffs uni, an Adam Graves Rangers sweater, a SJ Sharks jersey, a Griffey Mariners model and, of course, Bad Moon himself.
So, what are the jersey skeletons (or stunners) in your old closets? Don’t even front like you don’t (or didn’t) have them. Hit me up in the comments.
Filed Under: Uncategorized
About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.