Dear friends, we’ve gathered here today to say goodbye to a good friend and steady training partner, my favorite gi top.
Even when you were no longer competition worthy, I still kept you in heavy rotation- you had the perfect sleeve length, and your construction was just right for my wider shoulders and absurdly short torso. Your one lengthwise seam continually bruised my back right around my spine, but hey, no one’s perfect.
We had some good times together- I depended on you to complete countless ezekial chokes, especially. However, that may have been what spelled the end for you my friend.
I could no longer ignore your deterioration when a large hole appeared in the left sleeve by the cuff. You have become a danger to yourself, and the fingers of my training partners, and that is something I cannot ignore.
I would make you a funeral pyre, and send you down the Delaware River for a true warrior’s funeral, but frankly this is Philadelphia and I’m sure someone would have a huge problem with me putting floating, burning things into the river. So for now at least I will probably wash, dry you, rip off your patches, shove you deep into the back of the bottom drawer of my dresser and think fondly of our times together.
Farewell, my friend.
A Skirt on the Mat 