Don't judge a ball cap by its sweat stains

It’s faded from navy to gray, smells like the men’s locker room and looks like somebody threw up all over it. It’s the most disgusting looking ball cap in the world, but it’s mine and I love it.
Perhaps you can relate — minus the smell. Do you own something you absolutely love and can’t part with despite its age or appearance, but raises the eyebrows of those closest to you?

Old jeans.

A faded old t-shirt.

An old jacket or blanket.

For me, it’s my ugly hat.

There was a day when it was not ugly. It was pristine, floppy and sharp. It fit my big ’ol head perfectly.

Not too tight. Just right.

I loved it and I never wanted to take it off.

I did marathon training in that hat. It’s logged hundreds of miles with me, keeping the sun out of my eyes and sweat out of my face. Instead, it endured the brunt of the UV rays so I didn’t have to and became a cesspool of stinky, wet hair.

It sacrificed its own appearance (and smell) for me. How could I ever throw it away?
On Marathon Day in 2005, my ugly hat was in place and was just as important as running shoes or Gatorade. I couldn’t have finished the race without it.

Running took its toll on me. Had my share of aches, pains, and possible chafing, but that’s for another story.
That ugly ‘ol hat left the marathon with its own share of battle scars. Gone was that sharp, navy exterior. In its place was a dull, drab gray. Considering the amount of perspiration my scalp leaked into its cloth fabric, bizarre splotches of dried, stained sweat globs turned the outside appearance into some sort of abstract art.

Ugly, indeed.

But it didn’t matter how God-awful ugly it was. When it was on top of my head, I didn’t have to look at it.
I wear that sucker just about everywhere. Golfers wear a variety of hats to either keep the sun out of their faces or make some sort of unnecessary fashion statements.

Proper links attire generally includes a nice collared shirt. To feel high-society, I sometimes like to wear my Masters Polo. It’s a beautiful shirt, bought on the hallowed grounds of Augusta National.

Gives me a dignified look.

Almost snooty.

Except for the hat.

Some people choose to wear distinguished hats. You know, high-dollar lids you can find in big-money stores with fancy clothes. I could warm my head with a soft, felt fedora.
They’re very cosmopolitan, you know.

For years, most gentlemen wouldn’t leave home without one. But they don’t go well with my sweatpants and t-shirt.

Isn’t a fedora more appropriate with a trench coat and a tommy gun? Hmm ... I could be in the Godfather’s clan. Just call me Joey Corleone.
Instead, they made me an ugly hat I couldn’t refuse.

My ugly hat is a reflection of myself. I’m not saying I’m dog ugly or smell like three-year-old mold or fungus, but I’m comfortable with that stinkin’ hat, just like I’m comfortable with myself. I wouldn’t want to wear something else, just for the sake of show.

I am what I am.

My hat is what it is.

I ain’t tradin’ neither.

Joe McAdory is editorial page editor for the Opelika-Auburn News and can be reached at 737-2549 or jmcadory@oanow.com.