The story of a hat

By Sierra Trujillo

They’re rugged and worn. They’re beaten up and dirty and some probably shouldn’t see the light of day any longer. Some make you laugh, some start heated debates, and some are just there to do their job of protecting your face from the sun.
I’m a hat person. It could be the middle of summer, out riding in the boat, or the dead of winter, during the worst snowstorm in years and I’ll have a hat on. I have big ones and little ones, ball caps and sun hats, visors and fedoras. I definitely have more than I can count on my fingers and toes. And each and every one of them has a story, granted some more interesting than others.
Most often I wear my San Francisco Giants hat for, well, obvious reasons. It’s actually a child-size hat that I got in eighth grade, when my dad was coaching my brother’s 12-year-old baseball team. There’s a pin in the corner from Opening Day 2007, which happened to fall on St. Patrick’s Day, hence the shamrock. Despite stabbing myself in the head a few times with the pin by accident, I’ve worn this hat everywhere: Giants games in San Francisco, Giants games in Dodger territory, high school and college games in California and now in Utah. It’s started heated debates when I lived in Los Angeles, and it’s started in-depth pitching rotation conversations in the valley. The sweat stains may not be from working hard on the field, but they show some dedication. It’s an oldie, but it’s definitely a goodie.
Quite possibly the oldest on the shelf, buried under those I wear with more frequency, is the very first hat I took to the NHRA races. I was eight or nine and I took my favorite pink Hello Kitty visor to the track. Now it’s filled with autographs from the very first drivers I met. Some have faded, other had a hard time showing up against the Hawaiian print in the first place, but alas there they are. I’ve moved five times in seven years and each time the Hello Kitty hat has been packed away for the ride.
I have 10 other hats that, while they might not have Hello Kitty on them, served the same purpose at the races over the years. Some hats have four or five autographs, others have upwards of 20. What can I say, I’m a dedicated fan. And they’re all stacked haphazardly on the top shelf in the closet.
The funniest hat came from the hat store on Pier 39 in San Francisco. It’s mostly a lake hat, but it’s made it’s appearances at baseball games now and again, too. A trucker hat, with a big T-Rex on the front has started more conversations than I can even remember. And now that the mascot of the local school is the Dinos, I have even more reason to make this an every-day hat.
I have a child-size Angels hat from the team my brother and my boyfriend coached last year. I have a Giants beanie that a die-hard Dodgers fan bought me for Christmas. I have a panda hat and a giraffe hat, both which represent the zoo that the Giants have had over the years. The fedoras are pushed to the back, just waiting for the day they come back into style. I may be a hoarder, but who can give up those memories?