In yesterday’s post I mentioned that I typically don’t wear soccer shirts that feature a gambling or alcohol sponsor. While true most of the time, there is one exception in my collection.
Of all the soccer jerseys I own, my second favorite* is an Everton jersey I picked up late last year. It has a collar, which is one of my preferred features for a soccer jersey. It’s black, which I appreciate for it’s slimming features. And it has prominent neon pink accents. It’s a very unique looking shirt, and it also has some sentimental value as it was featured last year when Landon Donovan was making quality appearances for Everton.
*My favorite jersey in the collection is a two-tone aqua Barcelona jersey that celebrated the 100th birthday of the Camp Nou. It has a collar. It has long sleeves. It has the UNICEF logo on it. It has neon green accents. It really is a thing of beauty.
The one drawback? The shirt features a beer company logo.
It’s not the end of the world. It’s an unremarkable Thai beer that isn’t well-known in America, and the logo looks quite benign. Nonetheless, due to my position at work and my wife’s position in the community, I don’t wear it around town. I wear it on vacation*. I wear it when we head out for day trips. But I never ever ever ever ever wear it here in town.
*When we flew back from a trip to South Carolina last summer, I ran into an Everton fan at the airport. He was so excited to see another Everton fan in rural Kansas that as we passed through the security checkpoint he exuberantly grabbed me and yelled, “Go, go mighty TOFFEES!!!”. Freaked me out for a hot second.
Except on Christmas Eve.
To church.
When everyone else is dressed to the nines in their Sunday best.
See, what had happened was…
We were going out of town to my wife’s grandparents house for Christmas Eve. Not only is it family tradition, but it’s my wife’s favorite family tradition ever. She cherishes it with all of her heart.
Since the gathering is a casual all-day affair and an hour from where we live, it’s the perfect opportunity to bust out the Everton shirt. Black jeans to match. A nice black thermal base layer since it’s the bleak midwinter. And my black leather Chuck Taylor’s from Black 5′s. So fresh and so clean.
Unfortunately for me, I underestimated my wife’s combined love for God and myself.
When I was in high school, my favorite family tradition was going to church on Christmas Eve. In all my Kansas Christmas celebrations, we never did that. Being 3 hours away from Kansas City made it impossible to get back for church.
Now that we’re only an hour away from church on Christmas Eve, Stacy mentioned that we would try to make it back in time. Knowing how much she loves her family celebration, I figured we’d never be able to pull away in time to make it. I based my wardrobe selection on that assumption, and that assumption was faulty.
No sweat, though. From announcements and the church bulletin, I had come to the conclusion that Christmas Eve at our new church would be a casual affair. I mean, something titled “Carols and Lessons” as got to be pretty chill, right? A small group gathered around a piano. Everyone singing and smiling. Hot cider, perhaps. People wearing jeans and Christmas sweaters, with the occasional pair of khaki pants. I wouldn’t really be out-of-place at an event like that.
This, however, was not an event like that. Now we’re two-for-two on assumptions for the night.
For the record, here is what Christmas Eve looks like at our new church. We are one of only two churches in town that does a Christmas Eve service, so it’s packed. And everyone is dressed up like it’s Christian prom, or something. The music is fantastic, the format is perfect and it’s a wonderful evening. In fact, I never want to miss it after having been once. It just wasn’t what I was expecting.
Fortunately, the grace of God shined down upon me that night. The back pew was empty, so we were able to slide in as the service was starting. I was smart enough to keep my coat on and zipped until I was seated, so nobody saw my casual attire. And since we were so far back, I’m pretty sure the pastor couldn’t make out what was on my shirt. And even if he did, we’re tight so he wouldn’t have called me up for an exorcism or plaster me with the Scarlet Letter “B”.
Next year I’ll be a year older and a year wiser. And I’ll know that even if I’m wearing a soccer jersey to the family Christmas Eve celebration, it’ll be necessary to bring a pair of slacks and an argyle sweater along in the event that we roll back into town just in time for church.
Renew and Restore

