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Most fashion elites would classify a worn, faded, and tired men’s baseball cap as a fashion blunder. As collegiate males, we have accepted that the designer-laden college fashion world rarely accepts the idea of the “used-to-be-white until it fell into the lake” color scheme. However, ask us to part with our beloved baseball cap and you are asking for a war. These thoughts and feelings regarding our most beloved garment lies deep in the emotional realm along side our thoughts of our first teenage love.
I declare through experience and and dialogue that nearly every college guy instinctively has his own favorite cap that he treasures more than the world itself. The cap, or as I like to call mine, “Mi sombero viejo”, assists males in the conquest of daily life throughout the entire college experience. Whether it be a baseball logo hat, a name brand cap, or a cap that features your favorite collegiate team, this cap may be more important than our eventual firstborn. Women, heed notice that I speak only the truth.
As males, we begin college with our eyes wide and, likewise, our caps new and tidy. Just like our morals, our caps begin to lose their virgin sparkle over the next few years. For instance, “Mi sombrero viejo” was purchased my freshman year of college in 1997. It was a deep blue, and featured the letters AF, standing for Abercrombie and Fitch, I presume. Fast forward to 2002: this hat has nearly lasted 5 years and is now a very worn brownish-gray color. It has been run over, caught fire, been submerged in a lake, lost, found, and even bogarted by police. I tell you, if this hat had a memory, it probably should be in therapy. In a similar situation, albeit distinctly unique, however, a close friend of mine also has a favorite hat that he has rescued from the clutches of certain death on several occasions.
In one unique occurance, my friend Jeremy and I were at the lake last summer when he removed his cap for a jet ski escapade. While he was being a complete drunken fool on the jet ski, a raccoon happened upon his cap. I was fishing along the bank and watched as the raccoon captured my friend’s cap and began to wash the cap in the surf. I was amazed by this action, and continued to watch as the rabid beast began to bury the item along the lake’s shore. My friend eventually returned to find the raccoon completing a proper burial of his beloved Boston Red Sox baseball cap.
Jeremy scared off the raccoon, yelled at me for allowing his most prized cap to be buried by a wild animal, and removed the cap from its lakeshore grave. Crisis was averted, and Jeremy still continues to wear Boston on his head with pride. By the way, the racoon also stole our Doritos, but that is a story for another column.
My point and reason for these stories is centered around the treasure known as the college man’s cap. Eventually this garment will be traded in for a graduation cap, but will never be forgotten. I recently purchased a replacement cap because my Abercrombie hat began to dry-rot due to water submersion. “Mi sombrero viejo” will give eventual way to my new hat, a Cleveland Indians Chief Wahoo edition cap. But my old 1997 relic of a hat will be a treasure that will be revered alongside the remembrance and splendid enjoyment of my firstborn.
If I had three words of advice for all underclassmen, the first would be to never mess with Texas. Texas is a state that has its own culture and unique way of life that involves rodeos and bar fights. The second piece of advice I proclaim is to never, ever, attempt to tear a man away from his beloved cap. It is a fight you will never win, and every man will defend their own treasure with use of force. College guys may be self- centered and egotistical, but we sure do know how to pick our loves in life. Lastly, beware of the guy in the Texas A&M cap: he may be a little paranoid because if you mess with his cap, you are indeed, likewise, messing with Texas.
Jason Kratzwald is a senior communication major and a columnist for The Cardinal. Contact:
jason_kratzwald@louisvillecardinal.com
