I love jerseys. Maybe it’s the pack-rat gene that’s been passed down to me that makes me want to collect them, or maybe it’s the sheer fact that my wardrobe is comprised of T-shirts and jeans, thus jerseys usually fit the bill pretty well. I don’t necessarily wear them for style—anyone who knows me knows that my sense of style is as apathetic as the Miami Dolphins—but I do wear them to represent my teams, or just to have fun.

Cases for each: I have Mets, Patriots, and Magic jerseys for the teams that I like. I also have a Chad Johnson jersey because that “Ocho Cinco” thing was just plain baller, and when I got my column, I bought a Dante “X-Factor” Hall jersey from the Chiefs’ Web site because who can pass up a $10 jersey?

Eleven jerseys is nothing to brag about, especially since all four of my NBA ones are admittedly small, and none of the players play for the team on the jersey anymore. In the future, the collection will undoubtedly grow, and I have three jerseys at the top of my wish list.

The first is a jersey from the flash-in-the-pan XFL. The Las Vegas Outlaws had a running back who wore number 30, and the name on the back was “He Hate Me.” The actual player was Torrold “Rod” Smart, who later played with the Carolina Panthers in the Super Bowl. I don’t know why I’m still mesmerized by this, but it’s become my mission to get one. If I can’t get an XFL jersey like that, I might just customize a Panthers jersey with “He Hate Me” on the back.

The other jersey is much more attainable, as it’s my high school football jersey. The year after I left for Columbia, the team got brand new Under Armour jerseys, relegating the old varsity greens to JV status. Maybe I’ll send this column to my old coach and get him to give me my jersey.

The last jersey, however, is unattainable at the moment, though I hope that it becomes available in the future. This one, unlike the others, I’m probably not alone in desiring. In fact, I’m sure there are people on campus who are on my side. I’m talking about a Columbia light blue football, basketball, or baseball jersey.

Right now, Columbia doesn’t sell jerseys either at the bookstore or online. In fact, I don’t know if Columbia is currently selling anything online, as I went to the athletics Web site to check and see what sports merchandise was being sold for this column, and all I found were Roar-ee bobblehead dolls. For every team, the message came up in bold red letters, “Sorry. The online store you have selected is currently closed. No orders may be placed at this time.”

Now, I already have a Roar-ee bobblehead doll, so I decided to leave the online store and peruse other Ivy League teams’ official online stores to see if Columbia is alone in the not-selling-jerseys department, or if there just wasn’t a market in the Ivy League.
I found two other schools—Cornell and Brown—that didn’t have any jerseys or significantly interesting items in their stores, but really, is anyone surprised by that? Yale’s site led to a fruitless search, unless you want a Bulldogs mini helmet and a replica varsity jacket.

It was admittedly sad to see that Penn, a team that usually dominates men’s basketball, wasn’t at least offering any basketball jerseys. However, it did have a section devoted to championship gear from seven different championship teams, so I guess that kind of makes up for it.

Dartmouth’s official store redirected me to ivysport.com, which has apparel from all of the Ancient Eight schools, including vintage jerseys, which are honestly no more than sweatshirts with numbers on them. I’d much rather have a current, authentic jersey to represent the teams that I watch. Though the Dartmouth site was pretty much a cop-out, I do remember seeing hockey and lacrosse jerseys when I was up in Hanover this year, so at least one school sells them.

Harvard’s site wasn’t looking much better, until I found that it put forward a Crimson football jersey. The Riddell-made replica jersey was only $46, a decent price for any new jersey.

However, Princeton topped all the other Ivies in terms of selling jerseys in its online store. The Tigers’ shop offered hockey, football, basketball, and lacrosse jerseys not only in adult sizes, but kid sizes too. Maybe jersey sales come with wins, but nonetheless, Princeton is proving that it can, in fact, be done.

So at this point, my Columbia-jersey-owning dream can’t happen, but I hope that I can have the chance in the near future. This season, the Lion Store opened outside of all home football games and offered a Columbia football jersey T-shirt. That’s a step up just from regular T-shirts in my opinion, but there is no replacement for the real thing.

Selling jerseys can’t be a bad idea, as it could provide a way for the Athletic Department to generate a little extra revenue and build some team spirit. Jerseys could be an enticing thing for alumni to buy, which might make them want to attend more games. Students might also be inspired to go to more games if they bought some better gear. Another plus in terms of students—a good portion spending someone else’s money with their flex accounts—is that they might be willing to drop between 60 and 80 greenbacks on some officially licensed on-field athletic gear. I know I would.