This is my five part series in how to buy a sports jersey. I didn’t plan for it to be a series, but like your Mom didn’t exactly plan for you, these things happen. Also, I’M BACK! Click here for Part 1. And here for Part 2, and Part 3 is here.
Sorry for not posting for a week guys, my house didn’t get power until Sunday. I would have posted yesterday but I was busy catching up on all the jerking off time I missed. Internet porn or GTFO.
Rule #4: Do your best to stay away from soccer.
You’ve had it with North American sports jerseys. It seems like every few days you walk around you notice someone in a different style of jersey; a more contemporary and chic jersey when compared to it’s brethren from across the pond. There’s always weird names like BWIN and OPEL on the front, and even weirder names like Kaka or Lukaku on the back. But everyone wearing them looks so comfortable. So relaxed. Their jersey isn’t just to support their team, it’s a fashion statement. Wearing a big clunky hockey jersey or football jersey to a party doesn’t really attract the ladies, and unfortunately you are the type of guy who has to wear a T-shirt under his basketball jersey. But that sexiness of this European piece of fashion reaches out to you, calling your name while promising you a world filled with drinking at absurd hours of the day (RE: before 3 PM) just because you’re watching, The Game. That’s it, you decide. Soccer, here I come. You do some quick research online. Minutes turn into hours once you discover Lionel Messi on Youtube. You’ve picked you’re favorite team, and now you’ve got to settle on a player. It get’s simple, you want a cool sounding name (NO GERMANS!) and a cool number. Boom, you’ve got it. Liverpool. Red. Number 9. Fernando Torres. Guy is so good, he won’t be leaving this team.
The Reason It Fails:
Soccer’s fucked up man. There is, no, and I repeat, NO loyalty when it comes to soccer, be it from management or from the players. If you think ESPN is annoying, with it’s constant coverage of NFL bullshit and LEBRONATHON 2011 (opening act, Muggsy and the Bogues), try watching a European sports channel for 5 minutes. Crazy right? Oh, you were watching one from Spain. No, me neither. I know, 8 years in grade school and all I can say is “Please” and “Thank you.” Yeah, though, the tits right? It’s like every show in Spain has to have tits. No, no, I’m not complaining. Wait, where were we. Right. It seems like every day in August and January (the period when teams move players) there is a new report of a player being unhappy and a linked to a new club. Or sometimes it’s a rumor from management and the player is all “no, I’m so happy hear, I love Chelsea.” One day later, boom he’s on some German team, smiling like a goon and all those people who bought his jersey over the summer are fucked. Just stay away from soccer jerseys guys. If you have to, buy the National team version of your favorite player. Just not Germany.
OK, maybe Germany.
Back to personal experiences, mother fuckers. So for me, I’ve been a soccer fan since my first year of college. Blame my friends on exposing me to the addictive world of video game soccer. But before I was rocking the Fifa series, Winning 11 was where it was at. All summer me and good friend would bring my TV and Ps2 out on the deck, get some sun, smoke an L, and play an endless series of match-ups between his team, Argentina, and mine, Netherlands. The Dutch quickly became my favorite international team, behind the US of course. Side note: Soccer is the only sport where I think it is wholly appropriate to have a favorite national team other than the US. Obviously you should be rooting for the US, but they sorta kind of suck, so it’s OK to like another team, just not our enemies. Namely: Mexico. Anyways, through the Dutch formed my love for the winger Arjen Robben, whose Dutch national jersey I was given as a birthday present. The reason I didn’t get his Chelsea jersey (the team I would grow to love)? All summer there were rumors of him leaving, which he did. Crisis averted. Flash forward to Christmas, where I received a Didier Drogba Chelsea jersey. I was nervous. I got the jersey 5 days before the January transfer window. Drogba again was rumored to be leaving. He wanted to go home to the Ivory Coast, and the Blues wanted someone who wasn’t going to bolt every January for the African Cup of Nations. It was almost certain he was leaving. Instead, he ended up staying and signing a monster deal, going on to destroy the Premier League, which he has now for the past 6 years. A jersey I received and almost regretted, a jersey that was sure to be obsolete within a week of donning it, turned into one of my favorite jersey’s of all time.