An Ode to My Umbros
If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen a very sad and sentimental story posted earlier this week, in which I bid farewell to my beloved black checkerboard Umbro shorts that I have owned since high school (circa 1993 to really age myself). But then I thought: when you have had a reliable, trusty friend for 30 years, and that friend retires, you do not just bid them farewell with a single picture. You do not simply march a three-decades old pair of shorts out to the trash can while singing “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” (oh yes, I did) and then forget all about those shorts. You tell the world what a great pair of shorts they really were! Which brings us here today.
Here are the Umbros, in their glory days, during a high school spirit week decorating moment. It’s hard to tell, but we wore white bike shorts underneath…either for fashion or modesty, or both.
The Umbros were a required purchase for my high school flag and dance days as part of our Friday football season pep rally uniforms. Those shorts have done their share of kick lines and have danced to such crowd-hyping tunes as “Whoomp, There It Is,” “Tootsie Roll,” and Tim McGraw’s “Indian Outlaw”—our mascot was the Indian so that one was a natural choice. Name a Jock Jams song and the Umbros have gotten down to it.
They were such a staple of ‘90s athletic wear that when I graduated, off my Umbros and I went to college. After I got my degree at Clemson, those good and faithful friends moved with me to Atlanta in my first grown up apartment, then to Charlotte after I got married, and I cannot begin to count how many walks they logged with our first dog, Cotton. We had Cotton for 17 years and the Umbros were there for many a hot summer walk. I wish they had an odometer so I would know their final mileage, because I have a feeling the tally would be astounding.
As fashion trends changed, the versatility of the black checkerboard shorts was something to behold. I paired them with everything from my silver LA Gear by Paula Abdul dance shoes to my “Second Place is the First Loser” No Fear shirt. They were worn with braces, with perms, with long, teased hair and with short hair shaved up the back. The elastic waistband allowed for all kinds of weight fluctuations and their longer length hid a multitude of sins. The Umbros did not judge. Where other shorts came and went, the Umbros remained. Lesser clothing frayed or had holes appear, but the black checkerboards were virtually indestructible. As the years ticked by and life was full of changes, those shorts were a constant in my bottom dresser drawer, ready and waiting.
Oh sure, they look a little foolish now, but you should have seen them in the early ‘90s.
No Fear apparel was always an appropriate choice. The shirts paired perfectly with Umbros and a smug confident attitude.
After all those years of happiness together, on Tuesday, I found myself in a fit of reorganizing and decluttering and I tried them on. As you may know, I have lost more than a bit of weight recently and I have been purging and donating lots of clothes that just cannot be altered or are beyond saving. I pulled on the trusty checkerboards, and they almost fell to the floor. The well-worn, stretched waistband hung off in the most defeated manner and even the drawstring could not save the fit. It was also time to admit, that even though you can still buy these beautiful creatures on Amazon if you wish, perhaps they are less than stylish at the present moment (although I have no doubt that their time will come back around again, like everything in fashion always does). With a deep sigh, I asked Clint for his opinion. When he finished laughing, he offered to take them to the trash can for me if the task was too painful for me to handle on my own. Before I sealed their final fate, I snapped a picture of my old friend for posterity.
Susie’s Umbro Shorts, 1993-2023. A life well-lived.
I should also confess that I am still not a zero-Umbro household even after this momentous loss. In addition to my sensible, wear-with-anything black pair, I also have a pair in our other high school color: red. As you may imagine, these have not seen the numerous wears or known the undying love that my trusty go-tos did and remain in practically new condition. My husband has insisted I keep them in case we need them for a Halloween costume or ‘90s party in the future, and for sentimental reasons alone, I obliged. However, they will never mean to me what those black checkerboard Umbros did.
And so, with a heart full of gratitude for thighs they never allowed to chafe (100 percent nylon for the win), for all the high kicks and what I feel certain were mediocre dance routines those shorts dutifully performed, for the zillion early morning dog walks, and sheer, unfathomable durability, I say goodbye, Godspeed, and thanks for the memories. You may be gone, but you are far from forgotten. Umbro, I salute you.