An Ode to My Red Sox Hat
Dear old Red Sox hat,
Your gradual fading is beginning to show your age (even though your signature B stays perfectly pink). You’ve been my go-to accessory since middle school, so when I grabbed you on my way out the door to a Red Sox game the other night, I realized: you’re much more than something I wear to sporting events. It’s time I took a moment to thank you for all that you’ve done and will continue to do.
Thanks for taming my locks when it’s windy on Cape Cod.
You understand that “beachy waves” and “sun-kissed hair” don’t exist in nature. Sea breezes don’t stand a chance against you.
Thanks for completing my sporty look when I decide it’s time for my annual workout.
Aside from a lot of huffing and puffing, I look no different than other runners on the Esplanade. It’s not really exercise without your presence.
Thanks for making me an easily-spotted Bostonian when I’m traveling.
Nothing says New England like wearing a Red Sox cap on a cable car in San Francisco. Or on a plane. Or a road trip.
Thanks for not blowing away when I wore you on a roller coaster at Canobie Lake Park in sixth grade.
It was a close call, but you really know how to stick with me. Also, I’m sorry I temporarily put you in danger.
Thanks for being there when Jacoby Ellsbury picked up and LEFT.
I prefer not to elaborate on that difficult time.
Thanks for keeping my face relatively perspiration-free on September 1.
Nothing else could bring me such solace on moving day, except for maybe professional movers. You’re so practical.
And actually—thanks for your practicality.
Your health benefit can’t be overlooked; you’ve prevented many-a-freckle from taking up more space on my face.
Most importantly, thanks for having the ability to complete just about any outfit.
Even if someone who calls herself a “fashionista” thinks otherwise.
Know that you are appreciated, old friend.