I have a confession to make: I have an absurd number of hats for a person with just one head.
My collection stands at 15 hats — not counting the stash I have sitting in my childhood bedroom.
Admittedly, not all of my hats have a direct connection to golf. Five of them represent my beloved alma mater, Villanova. Two are pretty special – one from my epic trip to the 2016 Final Four, and one commemorating the 2016 national championship over North Carolina. These two hats come out on special occasions, most of which involve Villanova basketball.
The most worn hat in my collection is the same St. Patty’s Day Villanova hat I wore for every game of that 2016 national championship season. I wore the same jersey to every game too, if you’re wondering.
But I digress.
I have so many hats for one very simple reason: It’s the best golf-appropriate accessory money can buy. And hats are cost effective, averaging $35 each.
Every tournament and new course I go to, I buy a hat to commemorate the memory.
The adrenaline rush of choosing the right hat starts as soon as I enter the merchandise tent or pro shop. Standing in front of that giant wall displaying the hats — usually with my dad in tow for a second, third and even fourth opinion — is my happy place. I probably spend at least 15-20 minutes standing there trying on various hats and asking “How about this one?” until my decision is made, or my dad gets annoyed.
So far the process has worked. I can proudly say I have never purchased a hat I wound up not liking.
And every time I stand there debating the merits of one hat over another, the question of whether I need another hat in my collection will cross my mind.
My internal monologue goes something like this:
Me: “Do I really need another hat?
Also me: Not really.
Me: When will I even wear this?
Also me: On the course!
Me: *Walks to register to purchase my new lid.*
While I truly love all of my hats, there is one elusive style I’ve been wanting to add to my collection for years: the perfect boonie hat. You know, the kind with the wide brim and the drawstring worn by camp counselors and Joel Dahmen?
Ideally it would be white, or better yet, tie-dye — but not obnoxious.
A co-worker of mine has a tie-dye Augusta National bucket hat, which some of you might consider sacrilege. I tried to suss out where he got it, but it’s a one-off.
They say nothing worth having comes easy. My pursuit of the perfect hat is no different.
