So it’s been a few months since Fredo last guestposted here at Futfantico, but a recent ESPN soccernet article lit the creative spark. After I made Fredo aware of such audacious fashion analysis in the name of big media, a series of electronic communications and posturing ensued, a bit like two cocks strutting about the henhouse, but each knew there was only room for one. Fredo acquiesced to my publication of his remarks, for the betterment of mankind. Enjoy!
First, the link to the ESPN article on the “worst kits of 2000.” This is a preliminary and mandatory reading assignment – I will flip through a grocery store romance novel while you skim said article.
Now, Fredo’s extended rebuttal…
“I’m telling you, it’s a good job I’m around to set the world to rights.
Campos: Does look like it was designed by a kid who’d never seen a football match, but it’s hardly an atrocity.
Italy: First: there is no such thing as a bad Italy kit (except Buffon’s gold one). Second: the author fails to understand that pretty much *any* kit looks atrocious when worn by John Q. Hasn’tdoneanyexercisefortfifteeneyears, as I sometimes demonstrate myself. This is an unsound criterion on which to judge the merits of a football shirt.
Cameroon: Genius. A simple feature designed to frighten opponents. Pissed off FIFA. What’s not to like?
Wanka: Fundamentally an issue of nomenclature rather than shirt design. The author sullies the good name of kit criticism here, dragging us reputable sorts through the mud.
Athletic: Hmmm. Well, he may have a point here. I don’t really like ketchup.
Bremen: A courageous move by Bremen. They exemplify Fredorrarci’s Theory of Bloody Wilfulness by taking pride in their unorthodoxy.
Palermo: The author’s erroneous use of the term “shocking pink” betrays his basic uneasiness with kit critcism, and why it should be left to scholars in the field. If that bit about the count picking the club’s colours because they are the “colours of the sad and the sweet” is true, then huzzah for Palermo.
Getafe: Getafe are responsible for the greatest marketing campaign in football history; I suppose this is its ugly corollary. My advice: hold your nose, much as you would when walking past Burger King.
Newcastle: A misunderstood masterpiece. Van Gogh wasn’t appreciated until he was dead.
Partick: Quite mild in comparison to most strips. Not awful, just vapid, like the Spire in O’Connell Street.
All in all, a shoddy piece of work. Like letting DJ Spoony operate the Large Hadron Collider.
For more delightful soccer bloggery, go to Fredo’s own proper site at SportisaTVshow