Papa Roach Inf25t Scraps Shirt

Remember that summer? The one where every radio station was blasting “Last Resort” until my ears practically bled? I was maybe fourteen, skateboarding with my friends down by the old bridge, scuffed knees and a general sense of invincibility. It was around that time that I started really noticing the music, the way it just seemed to -fit- everything I was feeling – the frustration with school, the awkwardness of first crushes, the overwhelming desire to just -be- somebody. And, of course, the Papa Roach logo became instantly recognizable. It felt like a secret handshake with the world, a connection to something bigger than myself and my small-town life. I spent hours dissecting the lyrics, trying to decipher the coded messages within the screaming guitars and Jacoby Shaddix’s raw vocals.

Then, there was this kid, Kevin, who always had the coolest clothes, and, in a moment of pure, unadulterated jealousy, I really, -really- wanted a band t-shirt, even one from a band I didn’t know much about. So, while searching for some old clothes at a vintage shop, I remember seeing one shirt that was just absolutely trashed. It looked like it had been through a war, faded, holes in the fabric, barely clinging to life. I don’t know why, but I was strangely drawn to it. It was like it had a story to tell, a history of late nights and loud music.

That’s when I noticed it, a faded graphic, hardly visible, but I thought it read Papa Roach Inf25t Scraps Shirt. I didn’t think about the band at the time, really, only about the raggedy quality of the shirt, the fact that no one else would probably want it. I haggled the price down to like, three bucks. I mean, it looked like something the cat had clawed, but, in my teenage brain, it was perfect. The ultimate symbol of rebellion, of not caring what anyone else thought.