So, Aaron Nola’s cleats. Yeah, I went down a rabbit hole with those for a bit. You see these guys on TV, and sometimes a piece of gear just stands out, you know? For me, with Nola, it was often his cleats. They always looked sharp, functional, like he meant business out there on the mound.
My Little Investigation
I actually spent a good chunk of time trying to figure out exactly what he wears. Not as easy as you’d think! I’d be pausing games, trying to get a clear screenshot. You zoom in, it gets blurry. Sometimes they’ve got custom stuff, Player Exclusives, or PE models, that you and I just can’t walk into a store and buy. It’s like they have this secret stash of super gear.
I remember thinking, “Man, if I could just get a pair like that, maybe my Sunday league game would get a little boost!” Silly, I know, but you get these ideas. I looked around online, trying to match them. Found some that were close, or so I thought. Some were crazy expensive, like collector’s item prices. Others were just… not quite right. It felt like chasing a ghost.
This whole thing kinda reminded me of something else, actually. It’s funny how these little obsessions can connect to bigger stuff in your life, or at least stuff that felt big at the time. Back when I was younger, way younger, I was trying to get my first “real” job after college. Not baseball, just a regular office gig. I thought if I just had the right suit, the perfect briefcase, the shiniest shoes, I’d nail every interview. I spent money I didn’t really have on this “power outfit.” Walked in feeling like a million bucks.
And you know what? I bombed a few of those interviews. Bombed them hard. The suit didn’t make me smarter, the briefcase didn’t give me better answers. It was a tough lesson. All that focus on the external stuff, and I wasn’t putting enough into the actual substance, the preparation, the skills. The gear doesn’t make the man, or the pitcher, or the office worker, I guess.
So, with Nola’s cleats, I eventually just kind of gave up on the direct chase. It’s cool to admire them, sure. He’s a heck of a pitcher, and whatever he’s wearing on his feet is clearly working for him. But for me? I realized I’m better off focusing on my own game, with my own trusty, beat-up cleats that have seen me through countless innings. They might not be big league, but they’re mine. And no amount of fancy footwear was going to magically give me Nola’s curveball anyway.
It’s funny, I still catch myself looking at players’ gear, but it’s more out of curiosity now, not that burning desire to own it. Maybe that’s just part of growing up, or maybe it’s just learning that some things are best admired from afar. Or maybe I just remembered how silly I looked in that oversized “power suit” all those years ago. Who knows!
