One of my favorite things in the world is a well-loved Red Sox hat. You can pick them out at games among the crisp and unsullied -- hats that hearken back to the days of heartbreak, hats that bear the colorful signs of having been worn, and worn again, no matter where, no matter what.
So I was delighted when a Facebook follower sent me this picture today, of his own hat, and gave me permission to publish it:
Don writes:
Spring training ritual: reforming it for the upcoming season in the wake of its annual cleaning...
The cap shrinks after washing, and you have to wash it every once in a while, then reform/stretch it. It's an old wool one, not the new fake wool cap...so you have to do this occasionally. Either that or my head is getting bigger from all the 'roids like Barry Bonds' did...saw Pedro-Zimmer in this hat (although I was in the bleachers so I had a much better view of the Karim Garcia and Jeff Nelson beatdown of the Sox bullpen Rake Guy that happened later in the game)
We all have our rituals.
And hey, anybody else with a great Red Sox hat story out there? I'm always happy to hear it.
When my son was about 2 I went on a business trip to Boston, and came back with a hat for him. If I said he slept in that hat, I'd be understating the issue. We have hundreds of pictures of him from that time frame, and it seems like he is wearing that hat in every singe one. It was a cheap street vendor hat, so the blue faded out within a year or two. I'm pretty sure he has never been without a Red Sox hat in his wardrobe since.
Posted by: COD | February 28, 2011 at 11:11
Great story, Chris. And great job raising a Sox fan outside of Sox territory. ;)
Posted by: Beth | February 28, 2011 at 11:32
There was a framed picture of Ted Williams hanging above his crib before he was born. He never had a chance :)
Posted by: COD | February 28, 2011 at 11:35
Crazy (but cool) coincidence -- in one of my short stories for the Fenway Fiction books, the main character (a female) also had a Williams portrait hung above her crib, as a symbol for how deeply ingrained it was in her family...
Posted by: Beth | February 28, 2011 at 11:42
It was midsummer, 2004. I was on my way back from a Lids shopping excursion; I had just gotten a white Red Sox hat, and a green one to celebrate my Irish heritage (in addition to my classic blue hat, of course). My brother called me and told me that we'd traded Nomar. At the moment, I was heartbroken. It took me a couple weeks, but I quickly got over Nomar's trade.
Turns out that white Sox hat ended up being my lucky mojo for watching the entire postseason. I was wearing it when we won the World Series.
Posted by: Sarah N. | February 28, 2011 at 15:16
Oh boy, I've never washed my hat... at this point I think the toxins and paint are what hold it together, if I washed it it would probably disintegrate.
It's tough going from years and years of only wearing adjustable hats to suddenly being able to wear fitted, let me tell you. Especially because my freakin head is so much smaller than I guess the average male head... trying to buy a fitted hat off the rack (and not some pink or bedazzled 'for ladies' crap) is often most frustrating.
Posted by: Sam | February 28, 2011 at 16:33
I still have the best story. My son was born on 7/8/04. When he arrived, he was born at 7:18PM in millitary time that is 19:18. I told all the dr's that the curse was broken and they all laughed in my face! I still have the little bracelet with the time on it.
Posted by: brett | June 08, 2011 at 08:54