The sweaty smell of rebellion, a.k.a. peer pressure

The shoes had a zipper on them and it was, beyond a doubt, the coolest thing I’d ever seen.

They were called KangaROOS and they were an absolute sensation when I was in grade school.

Despite the fact that the zipper served no practical purpose — storing video game quarters in there was loud and uncomfortable — they were a must-have item among my peer group, like K-Way jackets and an unbearable awkwardness around girls.

While I’d like to think my unrelenting desire for Kangas was fuelled by my ability to recognize nifty things on some innate level, the reality is far more simple: all my friends had them.

If you were still trotting around the playground in North Stars or, heaven forbid, some no-name brand, then being one of the cool kids was out of the question.

In high school, it was all about Polo-brand polo shirts — collars up — and Edwin jeans over penny loafers with actual pennies in them.

There was, I’m not too proud to admit, in ordinate amount of hair mousse involved in my elaborate hair construction project each morning. Yep, I was that obnoxious tool through most of my teens.

In university, rebellion kicked in and that had its own style, too. The preppy look was replaced by plaid flannel and slobby jeans accentuated with big, black boots. The hair was long and unruly, yet meticulously so. I could have been a Nirvana roadie.

Throughout these various phases there has been one constant: Nike. I remember getting my first pair of swoosh-branded running shoes as a kid, convinced the waffle tread on the bottom made me faster.

In high school, I wore Nike gear on the football field and especially the basketball court, where my ungainly, unathletic body wanted nothing more than to Be Like Mike. Even during the grunge phase, there was usually a “Just Do It” T-shirt kicking around somewhere.

That catchphrase was back in the news this week as Nike launched a campaign honouring its 30th anniversary and using Colin Kaepernick as one of the primary spokespeople. Kaepernick played six seasons in the NFL but made headlines as the first player to kneel during the U.S. national anthem, a form of non-violent protest adopted in various forms by athletes across North America.

As a result, Kaepernick has been more or less blackballed by the league.

I stopped wearing Nike as status symbol long ago; I still have some of their running gear but mostly because I found them on sale. My latest brand fixation surrounds names like Patagonia, which combines quality, corporate accountability and ridiculously high prices, all of which make me feel superior while wearing it. This is insanely dumb and yet it gets me every time.

And while Nike’s embracing of Kaepernick reeks of corporate opportunism — and plenty of other previously apolitical brands are taking stances these days — I still think it’s a worthwhile gesture.

In addition to putting them on the right side of history, it’s produced social media comedy as outraged opponents to Kaepernick’s display of free speech burn their Nike gear in protest.

My 12-year-old daughter asked for a pair of Nikes this week. How wonderful, I thought, that she’s embracing a company after seeing it tout an important message about social change. But when I brought up Kaepernick, she looked at me quizzically. “Dad, I just want them because all my friends are wearing them,” she said.

I’m going to talk her into a pair of KangaROOS.

Drew Edwards wears Brooks running shoes because they fit his chubby feet. He can be reached at drew@drewedwards.ca.