If you played sports in the ā70s or ā80s and had less-than-perfect vision, you had two choices:
- Risk missing the ball entirely, or
- Strap on a pair ofĀ indestructible athletic glasses that made you look like a lab technician moonlighting at shortstop.
These werenāt ordinary specs. These were battle-grade eyewearāthick plastic frames, wraparound temples, and a nose bridge that could stop a foul ball cold. They didnāt sit on your face so much as clamp on like a vice, secured with an elastic strap that screamed, āIām here to rebound and dissect frogs after.ā
Nobody wore them by choice. But some guys turned them into accidental legend. NBA players, linemen, even outfieldersāthese gladiators of the bespectacled eliteāwore their fogged-up plastic honor badges with pride. Well, not pride exactly. More like silent resignation.
They fogged up, they slid around, and they caught approximately 80% of your sweat, which then funneled directly into your eyes. But they stayed on. Always. You could get tackled, dunked on, or hit with a hockey puck, and those bad boys would still be hanging on like a barnacle in a hurricane.
Sure, you looked like your mom made you wear them. And yes, opposing teams would absolutely call you āprofessorā during warmups. But every once in a while, one of these goggled warriors would drain a three-pointer, stiff-arm a linebacker, or dunk in trafficāand suddenly, nerd vision became elite vision.
You didnāt wear them to look cool. You wore them toĀ seeāand sometimes, to dominate.
And if they broke? You knew you were going back to the wire-rimmed pair with tape on the bridge. So you kept them safeāon your face, where they belonged.
