Fall Classic : Old-Time Baseball Jerseys Make the Starting Lineup

Last March, a doctor walked into Sports Fan-Attic at Mission Viejo Mall to buy 20 old-fashioned pro baseball jerseys for his office softball team. The shirts, made by Mirage, retail for $50 each. But only the nostalgic look would do.

In the weeks before Father’s Day this year, Nordstrom’s menswear department was doing brisk business in sumptuous, authentic reproductions of old-time baseball jerseys made by Mitchell & Ness of Philadelphia for up to $235 each.

No question about it: Baseball nostalgia has become baseball chic.

“The nostalgia thing probably happened only about two years ago, when Mitchell & Ness did their first catalogue,” says Mark Christensen, owner of Sports Fan-Attic.

High-quality, pro-team jerseys, jackets and hats have been on the market since the early 1980s, “but the nostalgia jerseys became hot in the past year. After some test-marketing, mass-produced lines from the Orient, like Mirage, allowed the bigger chains to make it a big market segment,” he says.

The result is apparent in department stores such as Nordstrom, where authentic reproductions made of the same wool flannel as the originals are available in menswear, but cheaper knock-offs are on the racks in the women’s and juniors’ departments. Entire lines featuring the baseball look have been introduced, notably Tag Rag and Spike Lee’s 40 Acres and a Mule.

“Everybody does a baseball jersey look,” says one chain buyer. “It’s a real popular silhouette for the kids.”

“It’s moved off of the diamond and into fashion,” says Larry Cahan, fashion coordinator for Macy’s and Bullock’s. “The sports-related novelty items have been very, very successful for us. There’s people who will go out and pay $250 for an authentic jersey, but women can buy a great-looking one for $40, and who cares what it says on the back?”

Some do care. Like Barney Sofro, who has--are you ready?--25 vintage Major League Baseball jerseys.

“I’m a 50-year-old guy who grew up with the Mickey Mantles and the Ted Williamses,” Sofro says. And sometimes he misses the heroes of his youth.

“The whole deal is, I feel like Stan Musial when I wear my 1946 St. Louis Cardinals’ uniform with his number on the back.”

When Sofro dons a New York Giants’ jersey, he turns into Bobby Thomson hitting the home run that won the 1951 pennant.

Changing into a Milwaukee Braves’ shirt, the chairman of the board of House of Fabric stores becomes Hall of Fame member Eddie Mathews launching another homer.

Such big-ticket, authentic jerseys have sold surprisingly well, even though there are few out there as enthusiastic as Sofro.

The trend “came on real strong prior to Father’s Day,” said Linda Luna-Franks, spokeswoman for Nordstrom in Orange County. “It was a real popular item, and it carried into the fall season. People came in looking for it.”

Oddly, the demand for baseball jerseys has had almost no impact at Anaheim Stadium, where the souvenir shops sell jerseys identical to the ones worn by the Angels for $100. An authentic batting practice jersey goes for $50.

“See, my regular $100 jerseys, I might sell 24 or 36 a year. My pennants, I’m selling 25,000,” says Sam Maida, the stadium’s novelty manager.

“My main audience here is kids. I sell everything to kids. I’m talking things $10 or less. I don’t have the clientele or traffic of a Nordstrom--higher-class people coming through constantly.”

The baseball season ends this month, and retailers in Orange County say they are reducing prices and stock on the expensive, authentic jerseys. But the baseball look will be apparent long after the baseball season. It’s following a pattern that apparently originated with celebrity interest in baseball apparel.

“I think (the interest in jerseys) carries over from baseball caps,” says Tom Julian, fashion director of the New York-based Men’s Fashion Assn., a manufacturer’s group that tracks fashion trends.

“We’ve never seen the baseball look come off of the playing field as much as we have today.”

Says Marjorie Deane, owner of New York’s Tobe Report, a weekly merchandising journal for retailers: “The (recent)movie ‘A League of Their Own’ is part of the look. The fact that Madonna and Geena Davis are wearing it certainly helped. But people were in the mood before that.”

This summer several chains reported big sales of imitation jerseys. Nina Garduno, a vice president at Fred Segal Melrose, says she bought the shirts for their looks, not their nostalgia value.

“(So) I was surprised that so many guys came in and could tell the whole story of the uniform: who wore it, the year it was worn, the game of the World Series--like (one) worn by Babe Ruth in the World Series in Chicago,” Garduno says.

“That’s what lots of fashion is now. It gets the kid in these guys. . . . Three years ago it was the bomber jacket that Spencer Tracy wore in those old black-and-white flight movies. They start to remember their childhood.”

Some women buy jerseys for different reasons, Garduno says.

“Not that there aren’t die-hard (female) fans, because there are. But they buy it more for the fashion, for the fun. I think it’s like . . . ‘I stole it from my brother’s closet, and I love it.’ Girls love to shop in guy’s areas. It’s romantic.”

Nicole Metry, a cashier in a Santa Monica car wash, loves the comfort of her imitation 1923 New York Yankees jersey.

“I wear it often--as soon as I wash it,” says Metry, 20. “It’s not hot like other shirts. It lets you move around and do things. . . . I even use it as a pajama sometimes.”

Friends sometimes ask to borrow the white, pin-striped shirt, but Metry refuses because she doesn’t want to lose it.

Mitchell & Ness offers replicas of about 500 Major League jerseys and 70 baseball jackets.

Changing perceptions of baseball heroes have spurred demand for older uniforms, says owner Peter Capolino:

“As sports became more of an entertainment industry, and sport stars started making the kind of money that rock stars make, a major portion of the population started to have an appreciation and a warmth for previous stars who . . . were perceived to play more for love of the game than for financial benefit.”

The older players, Capolino says, “were revered but also had to live lives closer and more similar to the average man. There’s . . . more of an ability to identify with Ted Williams or Joe DiMaggio. Today’s sports celebrities live lives of the elite.”

Mitchell & Ness jerseys are made from wool flannel, the dominant uniform material used before cooler double knits prevailed in the early 1970s.

They are authentically baggy. Says Capolino: “They had no stretch. Players had to wear them big so they could throw and hit.”

Mitchell & Ness turns out 25,000 jerseys a year, each individually lettered and embroidered on sewing machines. They retail for $175 to $250.

Ebbets Field Flannels in Seattle produces about 200 styles of shirts, as well as caps and jackets, from the old Negro Leagues and minor league teams, including the Hollywood Stars and Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League.

The jerseys, produced with methods similar to Mitchell & Ness’s, retail for $140 to $175, says Jerry Cohen, owner of Ebbets Field Flannels.

The other major manufacturers, Mirage of New York and Starter in New Haven, Conn., turn out jerseys of lightweight cotton or polyester.

“We interpret the looks of that era and may not use the exact fabrics and detailing, but it’s more of a fashion statement,” says Stuart Crystal, director of marketing for Starter. “We pay attention to detail, but . . . (our garment is) more street active so it will be more comfortable.”

Starter’s jerseys retail for about $75, Crystal says.

The businesses of Mitchell & Ness and Ebbets Field Flannels are smaller than Starter, but both entered the uniform business only a few years ago.

Mitchell & Ness’ Capolino owned a sporting goods store in 1986 when he noticed that vintage baseball caps were popular and decided to research old uniforms.

When customers brought in vintage jerseys for repair, he would ask if he could make a replica. “I gave the collector a replica so he could wear the copy and keep his collectible safe and in mothballs,” Capolino says.

By July, 1987, he had researched 90 uniforms. After a long search, he found a New Hampshire mill that could produce wool flannel and a line of jerseys.

Mitchell & Ness sold about $250,000 in jerseys in 1989 and projects sales of $1.5 million this year.

Cohen, of Ebbets Fields Flannels, was an aspiring rock musician when he began copying shirts in 1987.

“Initially my interest was as a customer who wanted to wear this,” he says. “(Then) I became obsessed with . . . re-creating these old garments and taught myself all the sewing and manufacturing end of it.”

He and four employees did about $400,000 in business two years ago and will do about $1 million this year, he says.

“Nobody had paid any attention to the Pacific Coast League as far as making products. It’s been a remarkable success because it’s brought back memories in people of going out to those games. . . .

“Our stuff isn’t cheap. But it’s for someone who wants something that’s well made and that is authentic and that you are not going to go into the ball park and see 500 guys wearing the same thing.”

Consumer Sofro enjoys that feeling of exclusivity.

“I’m actually a little saddened by the fact that this has gotten so popular, because now everybody can get to these things,” he says.

“They give you the feeling that you’re walking around in one of those uniforms from long ago. This is when athletes played for $25,000 a year and were only interested in playing ball. If they hurt their leg, they were out there playing (anyway).”

This fall, many stores are closing out the jerseys and displaying football apparel. But those who want a shirt are not necessarily out of luck.

Pamela Clark, men’s sportswear buyer for Nordstrom in Los Angeles, says she may order more jerseys for Christmas.