This week has been particularly exhausting. I feel like my professors met behind closed doors to arrange their syllabi in such a way that I would resemble the ping-pong ball in the match between Forrest Gump and his Chinese opponent. I’m not asking for sympathy, as it seems that this week has been reminiscent of images in Dante’s "Inferno" for many students. I’m simply explaining that I can’t delve into any sort of serious topic in this week’s column for fear of doing my “fem-bot after encountering Austin Powers” impersonation.
Instead of griping about some pressing political issue, I’m going to address an aspect of pop culture that has always managed to baffle me: The Rap Game. First of all, I’d like to note that I comprehend how ridiculous it is for a kid that grew up in the affluent suburbs of Philadelphia to even utter the phrase “Rap Game,” let alone write anything on it. Yet, my aim is not to enlighten my readers on the topic, but maybe come together with them while we collectively scratch our heads at the unique phenomenon that has so rapidly captured our nation’s attention.
Possibly the most entertaining aspect of rap is the wardrobe these lyricists adorn. There is one particular article of clothing, however, that always amuses me the most. Unlike mere trends (the gaudy chains of Run DMC, MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” pants, Kriss Kross’s backwards clothes, etc.), it has been a staple of the rap artist’s clothing repertoire since the genre’s origin. I am, of course, referring to the professional sports team jersey.
You may ask why I find such seemingly mundane garment to be so funny. I have to explain that it’s not the jersey itself, but the obscure sports team it represents which produces the hilarity. For instance, Snoop Doggy Dogg recently decided to publicly sport a Kansas City Chiefs jersey. Anybody familiar with him knows, however, that he hails from Long Beach, California. Why does a rap artist, who prides himself on his West coast origin, wear a jersey of a football team from Kansas?
I could understand it if the logo or mascot of the team were particularly cool, the team colors were kinda fly, or if the Chiefs even made the playoffs, but let’s face it, the Kansas City Chiefs are the NFL’s equivalent of Screech from "Saved by the Bell."
The strange thing is, though, that rappers today seem to be more drawn to the obscure jerseys than to the popular or cool ones. If you compared the ensembles of rap artists of the early ‘90s with the rappers today, I’d be willing to bet that you would see significant differences among the types of jerseys.
For example, Dr. Dre and the rest of NWA embraced Oakland Raiders paraphernalia in their music videos and album covers. This makes sense for two reasons. 1.) Dre and company matriculated from Compton, which is in the general vicinity of Oakland. (I’m not sure if, as a white guy, I’m allowed to call him Dre, but for the sake of brevity I’m going to. It’s times like this I’m glad that whole West coast/East coast thing is over.) 2.) The Raiders are generally known for their raucous fans, their bad-ass colors (silver and black), and the fact that their mascot's favorite pastime is raiding things. Any team that embodies these three features seems to be an adequate one to be represented by a rapper who slapped Dee Barnes and belonged to a group that wrote “Cop Killer.” This makes sense to me.
My limited understanding of the rap game and all that it entails was surpassed when I turned on MTV and I saw a rapper wearing a Winnipeg Jets jersey. (Unfortunately, I cannot remember who it was). For all of you out there not familiar with the history of the NHL, the Winnipeg Jets were a professional hockey team that eventually got moved to Phoenix in 1996. Maybe it’s me, but a currently non-existent hockey team that was once based in Canada doesn’t seem like a good fit for a rapper trying to make himself look tough.
First of all, does rap even exist in Canada? I always thought that rap in Canada was analogous to a flame in a vacuum. I’m almost positive Newton wrote something to that extent. Secondly, I don’t really equate the sport of hockey with the musical genre of rap. I fail to make this connection because hockey is a sport played primarily by white people, while rap is chiefly performed by African-Americans. I’m not implying African-Americans cannot play or appreciate the sport, but stating that the juxtaposition between hockey and rap appears to be an odd one, at least to me.
I’m not saying all rappers have subscribed to this sudden embrace of obscure team representation. You still see music videos with gyrating individuals clad in the classic Yankees, Lakers, Knicks and Raiders garb. However, rappers are increasingly donning apparel which represents teams that seemingly have no clear connection to their roots or attitude. If this keeps up, what’s next? Arena League Football Jerseys? Professional Jai Alai caps? I don’t comprehend the logic behind the growing selection of this random attire by rap artists. What I do know is that I’m certainly going to enjoy their one-upmanship of obscure team representation until it gets to preposterous proportions. Who knows, maybe some day we’ll a music video with a rapper showing his Tribe Pride.
Max O'Keefe is a columnist for the DoG Street Journal . His opinions do not necessarily represent those of the entire staff.