Last week I emerged from my home office for a snack and my boyfriend’s iPad was left unattended and blasting an old college basketball game. I was struck by the now nostalgic sounds of the game— the squeaking of sneakers against the hardwood floor, the exaggerated lilt of the play-by-play announcer’s voice, and the persistent low murmur (and burst of cheers) from the crowd. I grew up with the same soundtrack humming in the background of my childhood home. I’d often venture into the kitchen when I was “doing homework” under the guise of needing a paper proofread as my ploy to watch a few minutes of a Bulls game.
From March Madness, to the NBA playoffs, to the Masters golf tournament, spring is usually brimming with sports, but with self-isolation orders and social distancing in place, live sports have been cancelled or postponed for the foreseeable future. I miss live sports because I miss humanity. Sporting events engender kinship and solidarity. When something exceptional happens, like witnessing Zion Williamson effortlessly complete a 360 degree dunk in one of his debut Duke basketball games, or watching Tiger Woods’ final putt to secure his comeback win at the Masters, the strangers around you quickly turn into fast friends. Baseball hats with team logos, or even obnoxious body paint, are really messages of belonging and love.
But even if I don’t have access to live sports, I still have access to now vintage pieces for some of my favorite teams (like the Chicago Bulls, if you were wondering) I found myself almost subconsciously reaching for my old NBA T-shirts and college crewnecks. These items were relics only weeks ago, parts of my past that I’ve held onto for history’s sake and shoved into the back of my closet to make room for more grown up cashmere pullovers and crisp white T-shirts. Now, they feel like pertinent pieces of my identity again. In many ways, our teams symbolize our cities and our towns, and in times like these, sometimes putting on your rally cap is all you can do. I can’t help but imagine hundreds of us across the globe on any given day sitting at home in isolation, clad in an NYU crewneck, or an old Bulls T-shirt, some of us sick, some of us healthy, alone but still together. Now more than ever, I’ve been shopping online for items with team emblems. Live sports may be on hiatus, and while we patiently wait for their return, I’ve found it calming to wear things that prove that community still exists, even if intersubjectively.
All products featured on Vogue are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, we may earn an affiliate commission.