In praise of the hooped sock

IT IS easy to be critical about some of the football shirts being created these days, but when you talk about socks, there is one underused element of hosiery the game should never discard – the hooped stocking.

There’s something a little jaunty about the hooped sock. It is more interesting than the plain version, more durable than a white sock and has the air of the cavalier about it. While we tend to salivate over a decent striped shirt (defined stripes, not trailing blood or Jackson Pollock type splashes), we often overlook the sock. In fact, going back in time, when books and directories used to list a club’s colours, it was “Blue shirts, White shorts”, rarely, if ever were the last pieces of the uniform referred to.

And yet, these socks would complement a striped or hooped shirt perfectly. Take, for example, Newcastle United’s socks from the mid-1970s, Supermac’s bandy legs encased in some very continental-looking hosiery. Did they not look better than black with white tops? And go back to the pioneering days of football and look at how the kit of the Royal Engineers, Queens Park and others displayed shorts and socks that mirrored each other.

But logistics played their part in the plethora of hooped jerseys of the late 19th century, quite simply the looms were often in short supply that could produce vertical stripes.

Arsenal toyed with hoops in the late 1960s, their classy red and white shirts were finished off with navy blue (thin) banded socks. They looked good, but why blue? And why were they dropped in favour of red socks? Their reintroduction was a throwback to the Chapman era.

One of the best designs has to be Barcelona’s socks in 1974, the red and blue hoops adorned by Johan Cruyff. You only need to glance at the images of Cruyff at that time to know this was a cosmopolitan team making full use of its visual identity. These glamorous creations probably did more than most to link hooped legwear to the continental club.

There is something a little “rugby” about a hooped sock, rather like the shirts that seem to be more prevalent in the oval-balled game. Horizontal stripes certainly make players look bigger, both their torsos and lower limbs. Hence, rugby may feel more comfortable wearing socks that are more “dandy”. Vertical stripes are more common in football, maybe to make the players seem fit, agile and a little aerodynamic. While rugby clubs were happy to retain the traditional jerseys that emphasised physique and power, football clubs probably wanted to differentiate themselves from the competing code.

There are some kits that could have done with a little styling. Wouldn’t Celtic and QPR’s hoops look better finished off with some matching socks? Or how about Brazil having some very vivid recolouring? But we don’t want everyone to have a hooped sock, otherwise their presence becomes “everyday”. The fact that not everyone likes or uses them makes them noticeable when a team runs out wearing something a little different. Long live the hooped sock, in all its glory!

The decline and fall of the football kit

FOOTBALL shirts are walking advertising billboards: sponsors on the front, advertisers on the back and virtue signalling on the arms. There is no limit to how commercial the humble shirt can become, with clubs issuing three kits a season to maximise the profitability from their supporters. Once, we just wore a scarf to signify our allegiance, but now, the die-hards don the tinderbox fabric to demonstrate their undying loyalty to their club.

Actually, they look dreadful on most supporters, many of whom squeeze into their XXL kit and wear them at all times – at a game, at home, down the pub and even for a night out in town. Admittedly, they solve a “what to wear” problem, but really, football shirts should be for matchday, not a christening, 21st party or barbecue.

Fans used to complain about a club launching more than one kit, but they bought them all the same. Shirt sales, understandably, are now a key part of a club’s revenue stream, but is it really necessary to issue multiple kits every season and in various colourways? Once more, the fans have it in their own hands, but they are desperate not to appear off-message or in any way a traitor to the cause.

Back in the day, you couldn’t get a replica shirt if you tried. Manufacturers such as Bukta, Litesome and Umbro would provide standard blue, red, white, old gold or stripes, but they rarely looked identical to the club kit. Up until the mid-to-late 70s, shirts were cotton, but then the lightweight, man-made fabric came in, all static and sparks and not something you should wear close to a naked flame.

The clothing catalogues, Freeman, Grattan and others, all pictured moustachioed models posing in the latest Litesome offering, perhaps a cheeky gold and black stripe issue or a diagonal band providing a continental touch.

My first football strip was all-white. It was Christmas 1968. My Mum presented me with an all-white outfit, possibly because it was cheaper than blue. And as any self-respecting Chelsea fan will tell you, Leeds were the enemy (in truth, Leeds were on their way to the Football League title). Nevertheless, I made out that the all-white kit was a tribute to Real Madrid (the shirt was later upcycled to resemble an Ajax shirt).

Our football coach, a former pro called Ronnie Fogg, made the most of it. “Here comes Di Stefano,” he joked when he saw me tip-toeing onto the muddy pitch. “He’s afraid he might get his kit dirty.” As we lined up for some dribbling practice, Foggy asked me to step forward. “He’s got a new kit and it’s lovely and white. I’m not going to be popular with his Mum, but sit down.”  I sat down on the muddy grass. “Now grind your bottom into the grass…that’s it, nice and muddy…how do you expect to be a footballer if you’re frightened of the mud?”. I was not happy, in fact, I was downright annoyed, but I have never forgotten that incident.

One of the first pioneers of new-style kits was Manchester City with their red and black striped shirt they wore for the 1969 FA Cup final. Coventry City launched a very innovative green and black version but then ruined their reputation for creativity with a brown Admiral away strip which was really quite awful!

Increasingly, clubs turned to yellow as a second kit: Arsenal, Chelsea, Everton, Leeds, Manchester United and Tottenham to name but a few. But often the yellow wasn’t quite as vivid as we saw in the 1980s. Certainly, Chelsea’s much-coveted away kit, complete with a yellow stripe on the shorts, was more amber than daffodil.

In 1971-72, Manchester United added a new twist to their traditional colours with a white v-collar, a dynamic new look for what they hoped would be a new era. More of this style appeared in the coming years, but United’s looked smartest, especially when teamed with long hair and Stylo boots.

Advertising on shirts was being talked about as early as the 1971, but it was around a decade before it became commonplace. While we scoffed at the continentals for having ads, notably the Belgians, Dutch and French, we soon realised that here was a valuable billboard that could be sold for hard cash. It’s interesting that people now refer to a certain shirt from the past by their sponsors – Sharp, Dulux, Hafnia and Gulf Air, among others. It clearly worked as a brand vehicle.

Today, shirt designers and manufacturers go to the extreme to provide a new product to sell every season. As we have pointed out, the current batch are examples of violent graphic design or accidents in a paint factory. But as someone said in response to our last article on kits, they are not aimed at pleasing the general football public, they are targeted at the fans, who express their support through buying shirts. Blind devotion, I would call it, for at upwards of £ 40 a shot, fans are spending their cash on goods that effectively become obsolete in a season. They may be aimed at a specific market, but in some ways it is exploitation of unconditional love. The clubs have the fans by the short and curlies…if not the shirt tails. What did happen to Litesome?

 

@GameofthePeople

Photos: PA Images

 

Crap kits: An explosion in a paint factory and other accidents

IT’S clear that kit companies and football clubs are desperate to shift more units this season, perhaps making up for a 63% drop in demand for Premier League shirts over the past year. Given the economic damage done to club balance sheets during the pandemic, the need to drive commercial revenues has meant that the 20-21 season will look more eye-catching, migraine-inducing and eyebrow-twitching than ever before.

It’s hard to imagine a 65 year-old fan wearing some of the trippy shirt designs being churned out this summer: the Premier will be awash with “fluorescent yellow”, “tessellated triangles”, “barcodes”. “neon blue slime” and washed-out pink. Not to mention the little black numbers being adopted by clubs wanting to suggest the football shirt as night club attire.

Thankfully, some good taste has been retained. While shirts like Manchester United’s black chevron meets TV interference and City’s psychedelic nursery print are frankly a grim warning for the future, Wolves have revived old gold and Burnley’s claret and blue is the equivalent of sensible shoes. Everton’s fans will like “Ball-era yellow” and indeed, the new blue home kit.

Kit sales are vital for a club’s commercial revenues. Manchester United are the world’s top club by shirt sales. In 2018-19, they shifted 3.25 million shirts, only Real Madrid sold for than three million, with Bayern Munich selling 2.6 million and Barcelona just under two million.

The virus has severely impacted shirt revenues, demand (according to Love the Sales) but you may wonder if the new designs are deliberately aimed for abnormal times, their boldness may be provisioning for another lockdown, a more remote audience and the coming globalised generation. If you are not able to see them in person, they have got to look startling to appeal to online retail consumers.

Or it could be that the designers are becoming more adventurous because they are bored. Let’s face it, a traditional red, blue or white shirt is limited. Once you have one, you don’t need another until it wears out. By making shirts that tweak the style, introduce features and even change the tone, fans will clamour to have the new version. But again, there’s only so much you can do with a club’s first kit so the answer is to make the second kit more innovatIve (if that’s the right word). And to really squeeze the fans, a third kit can be produced that can be so bold it evokes animal prints, hangovers, illegal raves and urban art. The second and third kits represent a pure opportunity to monetize the supporters.

And they moan. They accuse the club of money-grabbing and over-commercialisation. But, they buy them, wear them everywhere they go and kiss the badge. If you feel your club is abusing loyalty by churning-out new strips, then it is simple – do not buy them.

It is astonishing how some kits that appalled us have become iconic. Arsenal’s bruised banana is one such shirt. At the time, it was considered awful by most fans, but it also represented a glorious time for the club. Coventry’s brown kit has never stood the test of time, but then they never won the championship in it!

It is possible that the real age of the crap kit may be upon us, a reflection of the times we are living in. Will someone produce a shirt with the covid-19 virus image embedded in its weave?

@GameofthePeople

Photo: PA Images