Oh boy, you are going to hate me.
Why this kit is good:
Look. At. It. There have been a litany of ridiculous goalkeeper kits over the years. David Seaman’s Euro 96 number; David James’ 94/95 Liverpool shirt that made it look like someone was playing a giant game of Tetris on his body; actually, thinking about it, they might have just all been in the 90s. Either way, this might just top the lot.
I promise you I’m not being ironic here when I tell you that this might be my favourite football kit ever. It looks like a Jackson Pollock painting. It looks like when you have a really off day at paintball and just get absolutely rinsed. Combine all of this with the fact that the bloke sporting it, Jorge Campos, designed it himself, and you’ve got yourself a surefire winner. You can keep your suave, minimalist modern kits – give me this beautiful mess any day.
When it came into existence? When Jorge Campos looked at his beautiful disaster and thought “Yep, that’s the one.” When the Mexico FA somehow signed off on it? It could well be any of those, because it certainly didn’t happen for Mexico on the pitch. The host nation’s neighbours limped through their group on goals scored (all four teams finished on four points), before being knocked out 3-1 on penalties by Bulgaria in the round of 16. Not exactly a fitting tournament for a team containing a man with such artistic talents as Campos.
This kit reminds me of…
If Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat took a slightly different career path. If you coloured in a tiger. What Microsoft Paint would look like as a person. There’s a lot going on, is what I’m trying to say.
Rating out of 10:
Is 11 acceptable? No? Gonna have to be 10, then. Not to go all Martin Tyler here, but you’ll never see anything like this ever again. Look at it. Drink it in. The bravery, the cornea-burning bravery. My eyes hurt to look at it, but I don’t want to stop.
Which non-football related function would you wear this to?
If the film ‘Hot Tub Time Machine’ was real, I’d wear this, jump right into the 1980s, and I can pretty much guarantee I would not be the most ridiculous-looking person there. If we’re living in the real world, though, I’m taking this bad boy straight to a retro disco, cutting shapes in Jorge Campos and Mexico’s finest work.