But for those lucky few with the post-Labor Day start date — everybody's back to school, including kids in Carroll County.
Fresh haircuts.
Clean kicks.
New year.
Good luck.
Make the most of it. Get off to a good start!
Maybe Alzheimer's is setting in. But, and despite so many friends sending kids off to college and/or back to school, I haven't had a moment of nostalgia for my own first days of school this year.
Sitting here, I'm struggling to even orient myself toward the memories of the emotions that rode side saddle with those first days of school.
With Chuck Taylor recently releasing the first re-crafted, re-styled, refined version of its iconic All Star shoes (the shoes receiving their first facelift in nearly 98 years); Reebok releasing multiple retro styles; adidas partnering with people like Pharrell Williams to bring new color-ways to the company's shell-toed Superstar classics; and retro Jordans selling out within minutes of every re-release: Kids of all ages are going old-school to start the new school year.
Old-school Chucks carry a timeless cool. Shell-toes a similar chic. Jordan Ones, and you're swagged out before you even take a step.
I'm all for paying homage; letting your sneakers speak to your sport-borne sense of off-court/field fashion begotten from bygone eras that gave birth to timeless classics.
While I'm all for using footwear as fashion to give a nod to, or even to fill a need/void for feelings of a fleeting and/or long-lost youth, what I don't/won't understand is the step further that is the want to possess game-worn memorabilia as a way to hold on to and/or to show your fan-styled appreciation for the same.
A little "insider" information if you will: Game-worn gear stinks. It's been sweated in (profusely so). It smells terrible!
The first time I learned this lesson was upon watching a professional athlete get the game-worn jersey gifted to him by one of his (more noteworthy) pro-peers re-signed. Why? Because: Notable athlete No. 1 had signed his game-worn jersey and given it to notable athlete No. 2 right after the two players' teams played one another.
Notable athlete No. 2, upon getting the jersey home, awoke the next morning to realize that the signed, game-worn jersey stunk(!). So, notable athlete No. 2 ran the signed game-worn jersey of notable athlete No. 1 through the washing machine (and though of no moment, the dryer too) — washing away No. 1's autograph from the game-worn jersey.
One of my dad's favorite sayings upon, oh, seeing someone driving a lime green Porsche, used to be that, "some people have more money than brains." (He also used to say that "a bad day on the golf course is better than any good day at work.")
This saying sort of sums up my thoughts about people that pay for game-worn sports memorabilia, especially those that pay for signed versions of the smelly sports swag.
Setting the price aside (at least for a second), if someone of extreme affluence is compelled to buy Muhammad Ali's gloves from his "Fight of the Century" with Joe Frazier (for more than $600,000), who am I to question why? But, when someone else buys Frazier's fight-worn memorabilia — Frazier's jock strap from the fight — for more than $10,000, I'm left scratching my head.
Who would? Why would you? But it's his ... that must smell so ... Huh?!?
Wow! That's not swag, and it's certainly not swaggy to hang a jockstrap on the wall, not in your living room, or your man cave. Ever.
Steph Curry's used mouthpiece just sold for over $3,000. Why? Who?
Game-worn jerseys regularly go at auction for tens of thousands of dollars. (Do they then get washed? And if so, do they lose their value?)
An authentic replica jersey may not carry the same cache, but it won't bring an entirely off-putting odor along with it either. I don't have a man cave, and haven't spent too much time in others'. But, I don't fathom I'd enjoy sitting in the musk of eau de jockstrap or de overtime jersey either.
There are companies out there dedicated to (re)producing quality, authentic replicas; some even calling their goods "nostalgia gear." (Mitchell & Ness, Ebbets Field Flannels, and John Woodbridge & Sons, to name a few.)
If you must have game-like gear, go get their goods. Pass on the game-worn (sweat soaked/stained), stinky stuff. (The couple hundred dollars a good authentic will set you back is a bargain relative to the thousands being paid for game-worn gear.)
There's something funny (or maybe it's funky smelling) about the whole autographed memorabilia market to begin with. Though the so-called "smell test" may have been applied somewhat figuratively speaking before, (the smell of) Joe Frazier's fight-worn jockstrap being/becoming a must-have "collectible" won't do much to sanitize the situation.
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