A question for everyone who was alive and football-conscious in the 1990s: did we realise then just how glorious the decade’s shirt output was? Did we stop for a moment and appreciate that we were luxuriating in such a luscious kit-based utopia, or has that awareness only come with hindsight? Perhaps we shouldn’t dwell on that too much. No, let’s move on, so that we can make the most of this opportunity to look back in wonder.
The shirts in question were donned by Barcelona and Sampdoria during the 1991/92 European Cup final down Wembley way. It marked the end of an era before the Champions League took hold, and was decided in extra time by a thunderbolt from Ronald Koeman. While Gianluca Vialli, Attilio Lombardo, Roberto Mancini et al didn’t leave with winner’s medals, they could hold their heads high wearing this white delight. In fact they’d be advised to, as a high head results in an elongated neck, better to show off that glorious collar.
A question for everyone who was alive and football-conscious in the 1990s: did we realise then just how glorious the decade’s shirt output was? Did we stop for a moment and appreciate that we were luxuriating in such a luscious kit-based utopia, or has that awareness only come with hindsight? Perhaps we shouldn’t dwell on that too much. No, let’s move on, so that we can make the most of this opportunity to look back in wonder.
The shirts in question were donned by Barcelona and Sampdoria during the 1991/92 European Cup final down Wembley way. It marked the end of an era before the Champions League took hold, and was decided in extra time by a thunderbolt from Ronald Koeman. While Gianluca Vialli, Attilio Lombardo, Roberto Mancini et al didn’t leave with winner’s medals, they could hold their heads high wearing this white delight. In fact they’d be advised to, as a high head results in an elongated neck, better to show off that glorious collar.
Don’t even get us started on the logos. Yes, plural. Because why have one when you can have two? In the middle of the shirt is the original crest: the St George’s Cross, which is also the symbol of the club’s home city (we won’t go into the history of it here, but England actually got the idea off Genoa). But then look, what’s that on the left sleeve, of all places? Sampdoria’s other logo, which first made an appearance in 1984. He’s a sailor with a pipe, he’s called Baciccia and he looks bloody great.
We also need to talk about Barcelona’s shirt, which is really orange. (Actually, why were both teams wearing their away kits? Not sure. Doesn’t matter.) It has a really deep V-neck of a collar which looks like it could tunnel all the way to the Earth’s core – which is roughly the same colour as the shirt, come to think of it. There’s a bit of a mosaic tiling effect happening on the body of the shirt, while those blaugrana flashes by the armpits bring out the badge very nicely. And how about that badge? Was it stitched on by Hristo Stoichkov’s grandma? Nineties, you had it so good.
A question for everyone who was alive and football-conscious in the 1990s: did we realise then just how glorious the decade’s shirt output was? Did we stop for a moment and appreciate that we were luxuriating in such a luscious kit-based utopia, or has that awareness only come with hindsight? Perhaps we shouldn’t dwell on that too much. No, let’s move on, so that we can make the most of this opportunity to look back in wonder.
The shirts in question were donned by Barcelona and Sampdoria during the 1991/92 European Cup final down Wembley way. It marked the end of an era before the Champions League took hold, and was decided in extra time by a thunderbolt from Ronald Koeman. While Gianluca Vialli, Attilio Lombardo, Roberto Mancini et al didn’t leave with winner’s medals, they could hold their heads high wearing this white delight. In fact they’d be advised to, as a high head results in an elongated neck, better to show off that glorious collar.
A question for everyone who was alive and football-conscious in the 1990s: did we realise then just how glorious the decade’s shirt output was? Did we stop for a moment and appreciate that we were luxuriating in such a luscious kit-based utopia, or has that awareness only come with hindsight? Perhaps we shouldn’t dwell on that too much. No, let’s move on, so that we can make the most of this opportunity to look back in wonder.
The shirts in question were donned by Barcelona and Sampdoria during the 1991/92 European Cup final down Wembley way. It marked the end of an era before the Champions League took hold, and was decided in extra time by a thunderbolt from Ronald Koeman. While Gianluca Vialli, Attilio Lombardo, Roberto Mancini et al didn’t leave with winner’s medals, they could hold their heads high wearing this white delight. In fact they’d be advised to, as a high head results in an elongated neck, better to show off that glorious collar.
A question for everyone who was alive and football-conscious in the 1990s: did we realise then just how glorious the decade’s shirt output was? Did we stop for a moment and appreciate that we were luxuriating in such a luscious kit-based utopia, or has that awareness only come with hindsight? Perhaps we shouldn’t dwell on that too much. No, let’s move on, so that we can make the most of this opportunity to look back in wonder.
The shirts in question were donned by Barcelona and Sampdoria during the 1991/92 European Cup final down Wembley way. It marked the end of an era before the Champions League took hold, and was decided in extra time by a thunderbolt from Ronald Koeman. While Gianluca Vialli, Attilio Lombardo, Roberto Mancini et al didn’t leave with winner’s medals, they could hold their heads high wearing this white delight. In fact they’d be advised to, as a high head results in an elongated neck, better to show off that glorious collar.
Don’t even get us started on the logos. Yes, plural. Because why have one when you can have two? In the middle of the shirt is the original crest: the St George’s Cross, which is also the symbol of the club’s home city (we won’t go into the history of it here, but England actually got the idea off Genoa). But then look, what’s that on the left sleeve, of all places? Sampdoria’s other logo, which first made an appearance in 1984. He’s a sailor with a pipe, he’s called Baciccia and he looks bloody great.
We also need to talk about Barcelona’s shirt, which is really orange. (Actually, why were both teams wearing their away kits? Not sure. Doesn’t matter.) It has a really deep V-neck of a collar which looks like it could tunnel all the way to the Earth’s core – which is roughly the same colour as the shirt, come to think of it. There’s a bit of a mosaic tiling effect happening on the body of the shirt, while those blaugrana flashes by the armpits bring out the badge very nicely. And how about that badge? Was it stitched on by Hristo Stoichkov’s grandma? Nineties, you had it so good.
A question for everyone who was alive and football-conscious in the 1990s: did we realise then just how glorious the decade’s shirt output was? Did we stop for a moment and appreciate that we were luxuriating in such a luscious kit-based utopia, or has that awareness only come with hindsight? Perhaps we shouldn’t dwell on that too much. No, let’s move on, so that we can make the most of this opportunity to look back in wonder.
The shirts in question were donned by Barcelona and Sampdoria during the 1991/92 European Cup final down Wembley way. It marked the end of an era before the Champions League took hold, and was decided in extra time by a thunderbolt from Ronald Koeman. While Gianluca Vialli, Attilio Lombardo, Roberto Mancini et al didn’t leave with winner’s medals, they could hold their heads high wearing this white delight. In fact they’d be advised to, as a high head results in an elongated neck, better to show off that glorious collar.
