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Fashion victims

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Posted: Friday September 24, 1999 11:22 AM

Hurricane Floyd was a tremendously destructive force. No question about it. But the big blowhard didn't leave town without doing at least one little bit of good. Last week, because of delays in shipping caused by Floyd, the Boston Red Sox did not receive the "futuristic" uniforms they were supposed to wear as part of Major League Baseball's "Turn Ahead the Clock" promotion. When BoSox fans were informed of this tragic news, they cheered wildly. Atta boy, Floyd.

The Sox's new digs had giant B's on the front, with the players' names spelled vertically down the back of the jersey. If they looked anything like the other designs teams have had to bear, I mean, wear, this season -- the Mariners looked like they were playing in George Jetson's pajamas -- then the boys in Boston would have been dressed up in the most horrifically dorky, ugly looking uniforms I have ever seen; all for the purpose of pretending what the game will look like in the 21st century when, apparently, all aspects of good taste, style and dignity will have evaporated.

Seeing guys forced to play in these uniforms is one of the few times I have ever felt sorry for a professional athlete. Who designed these, Cher? Next time, fellas, save some dignity. Wear a dress.

The truly sad part is, Major League Baseball isn't ahead of its time with these ridiculous threads. Lately, gawd-awful uniform design has been one of the few things we can count on in sports.

I'm no fashion expert. After all, I wore blue socks with my black wedding tuxedo and I consider "dressing up" to mean tucking in my shirt. But you don't have to be Ralph Lauren to know that the Colorado Avalanche look like giant bruised eggplants skating around in their uniforms. What are the Buffalo Sabres wearing? Is that some kind of disco, Darth Vader getup? The next time these two teams play each other we should all don special glasses and watch in 3-D.

In Arizona, management must still be yelling at the guy who designed the Phoenix Coyotes uniforms. We said COYOTE, you idiot, not PEYOTE.

Prediction: The Houston Rockets will never win another title until they get out of those ice-cream-vendor-on-acid suits.

The Golden State Warriors' redesign is so awful it looks like the mascot on their jersey is actually trying to bolt off the design.

What was the color-scheme inspiration for the Detroit Pistons' new uniforms, the inside of a Howard Johnson's?

Is it me or has legislation been passed that mandates all new sports teams must now use either black, teal or purple in their designs?

Now, as with most of the topics I rip apart in this space, not everything in the world of sports uniforms has been turned into parachute pants.

The Astros did a good job, but seriously, how hard was it to create something better than what they had? The Tampa Bay Buccaneers' new unis are pretty cool, too. Pewter? Who knew? I love the New York Rangers' third jersey with Ms. Liberty on the front. The Bulls' black jersey with red pinstripes is a tasteful update on a classic design. That's all I'm asking for. I don't want Armani or Hermès, but is something a little more classy than a house coat too much to ask for? A modern tweak on a traditional look, that's all I want, like the Mets, the Patriots, the Penguins and the Capitals.

But apparently, taste and style and uniforms rarely coexist in a world where bold and bodacious and barf-a-rama is what makes those cash registers ring. And we all know in the world of professional sports uniforms, the most important color is green.

That being said, isn't it funny then that the best-selling uniforms are almost always the simple classics like the Yankees, the Packers, the Browns, the Celtics and Penn State?

Maybe fashion is just the final frontier when it comes to sports strategy. Perhaps the Tennessee Titans' new medieval Blue's Clues zoot-suits have some kind of real purpose behind them. After all, the last four NFL teams to redesign their uniforms all made the playoffs the next year.

"Hello, Mr. Hilfiger ?"

"Yes."

"This is Mike Shanahan, and I've got three words for you."

"Uh-huh, well, I'm in the middle of ridiculously marking up the prices on my clothes -- $30 for socks, Julian? Are you mad? Make it $49.99 -- but go ahead, I'm listening."

"Mile High Mauve."

WHYLO of the Week

From Jesse, who as far as I can tell is a student at the University of Dayton, which must now seriously consider revamping its entrance standards: "Why do you give a [doo-doo] about wrestling you know nothing about it and sound like an idiot. If you were a real sports writer you would be writing about a "real" sport and not knocking wrestling, your [sic] a loser. Do us a favor and go hide in your shelter because I am now less intelligent for stumbling upon your article."

(Less intelligent? I must be some kind of miracle worker.)

Dearest Jesse (say it with me, FlemFilers):

WHO HELPED YOU LOG ON?

Love Letters

Hey, finally some real love letters. I am flattered. Seriously, I am. Thanks.

Michael Louvier from Brandon, Miss., writes: "Hey Flem: Finally a good article. As I sit here with my Saints neck-tie & 'Who-dat' lapel pin, I wonder how important it is for me to abandon all other areas of life for three hours every Sunday (usually to be cast into a deep "funk" after the loss). I read your article on Ricky Williams and the sick girl, closed the office and went home and played blocks with my 14-month-old son on the living-room floor. Go Saints."

Dean Cochran writes: "Well done. I can't say much more than that about your article on Ricky Williams and little Rachel. Someone in my family has this dreaded disease and I know full well the pain that it causes. While not necessarily fatal, it brings your quality of life to a level that is almost unbearable. Anything that can lift your spirits encourages you to fight another day. Sometimes it is difficult for people to even get out of bed. The fact that Ricky was as affected by this little girl as she was by him speaks volumes for this young man. It also speaks volumes for you that you put it so eloquently for all of us to share."

John Gray of New Westminster, B.C., writes:

"For what it's worth, I happen to like the spin you put on sports. I'd love nothing more than to kick back, down a few frosty ones, hang out with the buds and OD on sports all weekend long. But, it just so happens I love my six-year-son and eight-year-old daughter more. I'll take getting soaked on the sidelines of a soccer pitch, or watching them play lacrosse any day. Helping teach them the meaning of sportsmanship, hard work, self-discipline, and above all having fun beats the heck out of worshipping a lot of overpaid, underachieving prima donna's any day. At least you put a quality perspective and some fun in what you write."

Chris from Chicago writes: "You certainly seem to attract the 'Disgruntled Postal Worker' demographic, don't you?"

(Dear Chris, meet Jesse from U of D.)

Dan Topa from Albuquerque, N.Mex., writes: "I enjoy your articles. I find them entertaining and insightful. I commend your new effort to identify WHYLOs. It relieves my frustrations to know I am not the only one whose intelligence is insulted by these clueless sots. We must identify these people before they become elected officials."

Normally, we don't print letters that aren't signed. But because I am such a super guy, I'm willing to make an exception, provided they are extremely funny or ridiculously farfetched (this one is both):

From New York: "I happen to find your humor rather funny. Personally, I enjoy your articles. My question: How often do people tell you you're the spittin' image of James 'Dawson's Creek' Vanderbeek?"

And finally, Ben writes: "Hey Flem, Your column kicks ass. Best damn thing on CNN/SI. Don't let the WHYLO's get you down. Oh yeah, can I have your job when they fire you?"

(I'll ask.)

Sports Illustrated staff writer David Fleming explores the sometimes weird and wacky side of sports every Thursday. Click here to send an e-mail to Flem, or address it yourself: flemfile@aol.com.

The opinions expressed here are solely those of the writer.

 

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