A Celtic surprise: Studying modern football kits

Each A-League team has been busy launching a new home-and-away jersey, coinciding with the impending season launch on Friday, October 7.

As a fan of kits, I’ve often stood in Rebel Sport, gently inspecting the stitching, running a smooth finger over the fabric. All colourful strips tell a story, some more in-depth than others.

From my computer, I’m forever admiring Sydney FC’s new home shirt. On closer inspection, it’s a mosaic of interlocking tiles, inspired by the iconic Sydney Opera House.

However, unlike in the past, I’m holding off buying it online, until I can further review the blue textiles in person. I sheepishly implicate my generous wife for that paranoid decision.

On opening a surprise gift from my other half recently, I was amazed at the utter thinness of Celtic FC’s new top. I read the accompanying tag, and was intrigued about the supposed “advanced technology” behind the hooped, wearable wafer.

Nearly all football clothes are made from plastic. Granted, Celtic’s was recycled material, which is a bonus. However, the docket was laughable, showboating another so-called sportswear invention, via buzz words and copyrighted patents.

(Photo by Craig Williamson/SNS Group via Getty Images)

Let’s be honest, we’re talking about oil after all. It’s black gold turned into quality clothing, which is mass-produced.

When the A-League launched over 18 years ago, eight promotional jerseys stood shoulder-to-shoulder on stage, being modelled by players from their respective clubs.

In retrospect, nearly all of the original shirts followed a similar template, with most kits mirroring their rivals in pattern design.

That initial season, Mark Rudan was chosen to represent the Sky Blues. Towering over the other figures, his Sydney attire matched the Central Coast and New Zealand offering, with each shirt featuring a horizontal chest marking, sloping from the shoulder to opposing armpit.

I’m still undecided whether it’s an acquired taste or treasured piece of A-League history? This was back in 2005, when the Moore Park lads dared to add the colour orange to their former crest.

Long before the Opera House image took up half of their recent badge, the famous building was hiding behind a cartoon soccer ball, its white sails peeking from the top, simply alluding to the 1973 structure.

Admittedly, I do prefer the modern insignia. It’s bold, leaving nothing to suggestion, heralding that Sydney is truly a sky blue town.

Others might say otherwise, noting the calibre of shirt sponsors Steve Corica’s men attract in Sin City. The irony isn’t lost on the Opera House, its budget once being raised through state lotteries.

Everything is expensive these days. After thanking my wife, I immediately sent an SMS to a friend, reviewing my pristine Celtic strip to a kindred spirit. “I plan to get one in November,” Garry responded, referring to the Sydney Super Cup.

I wished him luck. Then Garry pondered the likelihood of seeing coach Ange Postecoglou at the pub. “An awesome possibility”, I texted back, “I’ll make sure to wear my jersey.”