Place

Unknown

Date

Late 1930’s or early 1940’s

Materials & techniques

Mercerized cotton, wool; Machine knit, machine sewn, felted

Credit

Unknown

Ten years after my father died I found his old football jersey among the contents of an old metal trunk. The last time I had seen the jersey was in the early 1960’s when he dragged this raggedy shirt out of the back of his closet. My brother and I watched as he mimed catching a pass and running for a touchdown that he’d scored when he played football in Vancouver more than 20 years earlier. This was the moment I first realized that Dad had once been a kid - a kid who had played football in a uniform.

I try it on. Despite it’s rips, faded colours and disintegrated felt numbers, this sweater is comfortable to wear and feels cool to the touch, unlike the sports jerseys of today. I like its construction and think about designing a sweater with a rectangular panel. I admire the rugged white cotton machine stitching of such quality that it has survived hard wear followed by more than seventy years of neglect. I’d love to know where it was made, but there is no label and no sign that there ever was a label.

There are stories in this jersey that will never be told: the story of how this jersey was made; the dreams of the boy, number 82, pulling the brand new jersey over his head; the story of the ripped elbow; of the blood stains; of making the team; victories and defeats; of memories of a father and his daughter.