Sox

I used to bowl. Not very often and not particularly well, but enough that my mom and stepdad decided to get me a personalized ball. And when they asked me what nickname I wanted on it, I was stumped. My stepdad had always been “Hondo,” because he was a huge John Wayne fan. My mom was “Boots,” because she was a country girl at heart, and my stepdad had met her at a country bar. I hadn’t yet developed my computer gaming persona of “Cyclops,” so I wasn’t sure what to pick. But we were at the bowling shop, and everyone was waiting on me, so I went with the first thing I could think of.

I always used to wear this black White Sox hat. It was back years ago when they had revamped their logo to the much cooler version you see today, and everyone was sporting their gear. I loved that hat. I wore it everywhere. That was back when I actually wore hats. And so, I looked down at the hat, and I read what was written across it, and that’s what became my bowling nickname. Sox.