004 - What's the deal with Quiz Daddy's?
And why is vintage apparel IMPORTANT?
More so than clinging to any one particular team — ok, I’ll cop to a minor attachment to the New York Mets — I consider myself to be simply a fan of Sport. Having played most of them as a child and adolescent, ceaselessly striving to transcend my inherent lack of strength, speed, and overall jewishness to reach the next level of competition, I have first-hand appreciation for what it takes to become a professional athlete — that alchemical mix of favorable genetics, exposure to expert coaching, daily dedication to training and technique, and the God-given talents to run fast, jump high, and throw far that underpin the whole endeavor.
I enjoy the storylines provided by Sport: the Horatio Alger-esque aspects of an undersized or overlooked’s eventual rise to dominance, the ever-evolving wrinkles in decades-old rivalries, the delicious dramas of former teammates turned foes or former protégés facing once-venerated mentors on opposing sidelines in The Big Game. Pro sports are the original reality television. They’ve survived far longer than Survivor and they’ll outlast even the longest-running Real Housewives’ newest faces.
They’ve created generational, emotional attachments for countless families and communities across just about every square inch of the inhabited globe, which in turn has fostered a merchandising and collectibles industry that — taken in its totality — is unparalleled by any other entity in the history of the world, save for perhaps the Catholic Church (between bibles, candles, and crucifixes, they move a lotta units).
For as long as I can remember connecting with sports, I’ve been collecting sports: trading cards, autographs, memorabilia, magazines and ephemera, cereal boxes and soda cans adorned with athlete endorsements… If Bo Jackson had been turned into an action figure, I wanted it. If Mickey Mantle’s Restaurant was printing menus and napkins featuring his facsimile signature, I wanted them. If a gas station was giving out team logo drinking glasses, I had to have ALL of them — even if the gas was unleaded but the glasses weren’t.
And of course I’ve always sported sports team apparel. Champion jerseys, Starter jackets, player caricature tees, college sweatshirts, logo caps in the summer and logo beanies in the winter… my fashion sense was on one hand hyper-specific (team gear) and on the other wildly generic (any team’s gear).
Scan the photo gallery above and you might notice a pattern: New York Rangers, Florida Panthers, Chicago Bulls, Tampa Bay Devil Rays, Duke Blue Devils, Georgia Bulldogs, Notre Dame Fightin’ Irish…
“Schizophrenic” is as a pattern, right?
I was all over the sports map, because I truly loved all sports. Granted, that “love” may well have been amplified by the arbitrary timing of my youth, which coincided with the turn-of-the 90s explosion of sports marketing and merchandising, which coincidentally coincided with the equally explosive buying power of grown Baby Boomers and their spoiled offspring — those who would come to be known as Millennials. This was the nascent era of “athletes as brands” — Air Jordan and “Be Like Mike” begetting Shaq Attaq and “It’s Not Easy Being Big” begetting AI’s Question and Answer... Dan Jansen was on my Corn Flakes, Jeff Gordon was on my Eggo’s, and Ken Griffey, Jr. was on Game Boy. This was the dawn of Sports Illustrated for Kids, the domination of SportsCenter, the hegemony of Jock Jams.
It was also an unprecedented time of growth and expansion for pro sports leagues. Between 1988 and 1995, a remarkable 22 new or relocated franchises were either established or announced across North America’s “Big Four”* — not counting the formation of the entirely new Major League Soccer and their 10 founding teams in 1995, nor the founding of the WNBA the following year (you better BELIEVE I own a signed Cynthia Cooper inaugural edition collector’s can).
With each new team came the opportunity for a new logo, new merch, and my new obsession. It’s March 1993 and you ask me for my favorite baseball team: “It’s a tie between the Colorado Rockies and the Florida Marlins.” Neither had played their first regular season inning, yet I could already rattle off their rosters and was bought hook, line, and sinker into the seemingly limitless potential of their respective first round expansion draft picks, David Nied and Nigel Wilson.
This is how I chilled from ‘93 ‘til…
It’s December 1995 and you ask me what I want to do for my 11th birthday: “Basketball & Pizza Party at the rec center, Raptors vs. Grizzlies.” Mom and Dad order purple and green jerseys for the two teams; I anoint myself Damon Stoudamire and my friend Mike is Bryant “Big Country” Reeves as we choose sides and gleefully hoop it up before digging into Domino’s.
It’s November 1997 and Dad has a connect to someone who works at Riddell — official supplier of the NFL’s concussion caskets helmets. He asks me to pick the one team whose ProLine Authentic helmet I’d wish to own: “Carolina Panthers.” Of the hundred or so Bar Mitzvah gifts I receive, none is more memorable.
I would be writing into JD Vance’s 2nd term if I continued conjuring examples of the hallowed impressions that sports and their sacred relics imprinted upon my developing frontal lobe. Point is, the sports culture that swaddled this 90s kid irreparably shaped this middle-aged adult, and I confidently postulate I am not the sole member of my generation who can relate. That confidence comes from five years of operating Quiz Daddy’s, an Instagram-turned-brick-and-mortar vintage clothing business I started in NYC, moved to LA, and recently moved back to the Big Apple.
In that time I’ve had hundreds of interactions, in person and over DM, with fellow men and women in that prime 30ish-50ish range who have managed to keep their inner children alive and well despite Adult Socialization’s best efforts to beat them into glum submission. I’ve witnessed their mouths drop agape at the sight of a Wayne Gretzky Blues jersey. I’ve seen their eyes light up at a Dream Team Tyvek windbreaker, originally available only as a Kellogg’s box top mail-in offer. I’ve heard their involuntary gasps of unadulterated delight sparked by the 1996 Yankees World Series Starter shirt, the same one donned by the Bombers for their champagne-soaked clubhouse celebration.
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For my money, vintage sports gear is the greatest anti-aging product on the market today. It’s all-natural, cruelty-free, without a hint of bee venom or snail mucus or requiring of blood draws and injections, and a comparative bargain to boot. Try slipping on a Rangers Stanley Cup snapback and not feeling like a kid again!
All of this is prelude to some exciting news you can use if you’re in the NY Tri-State: Quiz Daddy’s is coming home for the holidays and popping up at Bleecker Trading’s new Upper West Side location (80th & Amsterdam) for EIGHT CRAZY DAYS - December 17 to 24. If any of what you just read resonates, you will thoroughly enjoy what I have in store. And stay tuned to this ‘stack for more views from my vintage vantage, with the soon-to-be recurring series “Strip Tees.”
*BONUS TRIVIA TIME:
What were the four MLB expansion teams announced between 1991 and 1995?
What were the five new or relocated franchises that joined the NFL between 1988 and 1995?
What were the six expansion teams added to the NBA between 1988 and 1995?
What were the seven new or relocated franchises that joined the NHL between 1991 and 1995?