Right. Another season, another jersey.
This time, Inter Miami's decided to drape themselves in something called "Fortitude." Black and grey. Granite, they say. Strength. Resilience. Sounds like they're gearing up for a war, not a football match. Or maybe, just maybe, it's a visual metaphor for the pressure cooker that is professional sports, especially when you've got a certain Argentinian deity on your team.
Fortitude. It's a heavy word, isn’t it?
Latin roots, Spanish echoes. Fortis. Fortaleza. They're laying it on thick, this idea of unwavering strength. And fair enough, they did win the Supporters' Shield last year, smashed the points record. But this feels…performative. Like they're trying to convince themselves, as much as the fans, that this fairytale run can continue. That the weight of expectation – of Messi's legacy, of Miami's sudden relevance on the global football stage – won’t crush them.
They're also calling it a tribute to Fort Lauderdale,
their "fortress" before they move to the glitz and glamour of Miami Freedom Park next year. Fortress. There's that word again. Something about it feels…defensive. Are they anticipating a backlash? A sense of abandonment from the community they're leaving behind? Is this jersey a preemptive apology, wrapped in marketing speak and sleek athletic fabric? Or is it just a cynical ploy to sell more shirts, preying on the anxieties of a fanbase facing an uncertain future?
I wonder what the players think when they pull this on.
Do they feel fortified? Or just…burdened? Do they see the granite, the strength, or do they feel the weight of the millions watching, the pressure to perform, to embody this manufactured narrative of resilience? And what about the fans? Do they buy into the hype? Or do they see through it, recognizing the subtle desperation, the fear of falling from grace that lurks beneath the surface of this carefully constructed image?
Maybe it's just a shirt.
Black and grey fabric, stitched together in a factory somewhere. But in the hyper-capitalist, image-obsessed world of modern football, even a shirt can tell a story. And this one, with its talk of fortitude and fortresses, whispers of anxieties, ambitions, and the relentless pursuit of…something. Whatever it is, I'll be watching. Just like the rest of you. From a safe distance, of course. Unless they offer me a free jersey. Then, maybe, I'll reconsider my cynicism. Maybe.
You can probably find this 'armor' at worldsoccershop.com, if you're into that sort of thing.