Paying Tribute to My Customized Indianapolis Colts Jersey: RIP, My Friend

We were 2-0 live.

However, sports fans all know that our jerseys are worn more often than gameday. We proudly display them after a sweet victory. And in them, we accept derision from friends and rivals after a bitter defeat.

That jersey took a lot. It withstood stains from Clara’s barbecue pizza sauce, B-Dubs and Fricker’s wings, steaks, steaks, and more steaks. A spilled Coke here and there. For goodness sake, I should have worn a bib most of the time! Hundreds of washes. I attended music rehearsals, family gatherings, and Blue Fridays with my loyal friend.

And while these moments were truly incredible to experience, my jersey was witness to even greater life events that I’ll never get back and will never forget.

The day my daughter was born, for example. I “coached” my wife through delivery wearing the ADAMS 12. I held the life I helped create for the first time. My heart melted beneath that jersey. One of the two proudest moments we ever shared.

The second was when my infant son was born only 22 months later.

I taught my little girl to walk while wearing that jersey. Watched my son crawl for the first time. It bore the brunt of being a new daddy, taking on an ocean of spit-up and drool. It never complained once.

I cheered my dad on through his recovery from and eventual victory over cancer. And celebrated the announcement of my brother’s engagement.

But sadly, he’s nearing the end. The 12 on the back has practically faded from sight. The D in ADAMS has been peeling off for a good six months now, and while I have no problem with the last name A AMS—as it is indeed a fine name—certainly, it is not mine.

No longer is it fit to wear to home games, family nights, or Blue Fridays.

Disgracefully, it recently even suffered the shame and humiliation of being demoted to a workout shirt.

I looked at him in the mirror one morning after coming home from the gym. He was damp and stained with sweat. An image I now regret having to see.

However, instead of subjecting him to eventual disposal, I decided it was time to show a little respect. For someone who’s helped me stand by my team and celebrate some of the greatest moments in my life.

In a fitting tribute to my trusted friend, I shall frame it and save it for mounting in the sports-themed sports bar I hope to build in my home someday.

And I shall sign my name in silver on the front of the jersey.

For crying out loud, I’d hate for anyone think I’d saved a Jim Sorgi jersey.

But, all joking aside, I shall truly miss wearing my old, trusted friend.

To the old ADAMS 12: you were the best.

Rest in peace, pal.

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