|I hate when he looks at me like that.|
Because now I have to make some sacrifices, too. Namely, what do I do with my jerseys?
I can give away things I wear regularly and not think twice about it -- I'm the Anti-Hoarder -- except when it comes to jerseys.
Ray Allen #34 Swingman on the Sonics? Haven't worn it in years. Ray Allen's not on the Sonics anymore. The Sonics aren't on the Sonics anymore. But Ray Allen's the best UConn player ever. The Sonics have (had) awesome colors. And it's a Swingman!
Casey Calvary Blue #31 on Gonzaga? Who the eff is Casey Calvary? He played for Gonzaga, back when Gonzaga was under the radar. I remember in college Kevin and I going to Champs Sports at the West Farms Mall and I got Calvary and he got Larry Bird #33 Powder Blue Indiana State. You think I can just throw out these kinds of memories???
I could keep the jerseys and stash them away, but I like hanging them. They're so colorful. It's like my own private Champs Sports. And if I stuff them in a drawer, they'll get wrinkled. The logic here is flawed, too: Lindsey complains every day that my real clothes are wrinkled. But my jerseys have to be pristine. They look better that way, and you never know when a spontaneous basketball game might break out.
But then I think back to Coach Taylor, and realize that if jerseys are going to be a sticking point, I have to make concessions. Joey Porter had one good year for the Dolphins and was a total idiot. He can go. I've given up on pretending to like soccer, so those jerseys can go, too. That leaves about fifteen. Mostly basketball. Some football. Some pro. Some college. And a few precious relics, like my high school white #5 with a pink rum punch stain from a foam party in Jamaica.
They take up roughly 33% of my allotment of closet space, and it's totally worth it.
As Coach would say, "Son, some things are worth fighting for."