The Baseball Shirt

Each year, I carve out a slice of merch that spits in the face of crowd-pleasing or profit-chasing. It's a purely selfish pursuit – I want it, and that's the only damn motive.

This time around, my fixation led me to birth a 3/4 sleeve raglan, a nod to our impending 29th birthday this December. Now, raglans, my friend, they're a fickle breed with standards I hold tighter than a rattlesnake on amphetamines.

First off, they've got to be soft as a lover's whisper but not flimsy - none of that thin-as-a-communion-wafer nonsense. But not so thick they can't stand up to a scorching 90-degree day without making you rue the day you pulled it on.

And the sleeves, oh, the sleeves are a dance partner in this raglan waltz... Push 'em past your elbow, they damn well better stay put, but give 'em the freedom to breathe when they're down by your side.

Then there's the bottom hem – straight edges be damned! It's got to be rounded, as the gods intended, none of that modern tee conformity.

I've sifted through over 20 raglans, testing and prodding, and by the twisted laws of trial and error, this one emerged victorious. I didn't birth a legion of these beauties, so if you fancy one, hitch a ride on this crazy train before it pulls out of the station for good. They won't be re-printed.