Bought In: Why Glove Color Still Matters
Lacrosse isn’t just a sport. It’s a tribal dance with sticks, a bruised symphony of violence and grace. Somewhere between the war whoop of the sideline and the dull thud of ball-on-mesh, you can tell who came to battle—and who just showed up for the pictures.
Want to know the fastest way to read a team’s soul? Look at their hands.
Because gloves—yes, gloves—don’t lie.
Not Just Fashion, Not Just Function
A high school team with mismatched gloves looks like they wandered in from three different rec leagues and a hockey rink. And maybe they did. But if that team is serious—if they’ve got blood in their eyes and purpose in their bones—they shouldn’t look like chaos.
Now, let me be fair: gloves are expensive. You know it, I know it, and every broke parent who just dropped $300 on a Cascade helmet knows it too. Custom ordering team gloves? That’s a logistical migraine wrapped in a bureaucratic headache. You chase kids for sizes. Someone screws up the order. They arrive late. One kid’s pinky doesn’t fit right and now you’ve got a mutiny on your hands.
And worse—every player is stuck in the same model. No adjustment for fit, no preference for wrist cut, ventilation, or palm feel. It’s like making everyone wear the same pair of cleats and pretending that’s leadership.
So yeah, I get it. You’re a coach, not a damn equipment manager. You're already scheduling buses, talking down angry parents, and trying to teach defense to a bunch of kids who think checking means slashing.
The Simple Solution No One Talks About
Here’s the secret: you don’t need matching team gloves.
You just need matching colors.
Every major glove—STX, Maverik, Warrior, Epoch—comes in black or white. Guaranteed. Your attackman wants his buttery-soft palms? Fine. Your D-middie swears by the cuffless wrist? Let him. Just tell them: black or white.
That’s it. That's the rule. No need for special orders, bulk headaches, or robbing the booster fund. Just draw the line: “You want to play? You want to be part of this team? Get gloves that match.”
Hell, most schools can pull off blue or red too if that’s the uniform palette. But black and white? Those are the universal languages of lacrosse. The colors of business. The colors of war.
Brotherhood, Not Branding
This isn’t about being pretty. This isn’t about Instagram aesthetics or locker room photoshoots. It’s about signal. And in a sport as chaotic as lacrosse, signals matter.
When twenty heads turn to the sideline and twenty gloves move in sync—that means something. It means unity. It means you’ve trained together, bled together, probably puked together. And now, you're wearing the mark.
The mark is not a logo. It's a choice. And like all good choices, it starts small and spreads like wildfire.
The Rebel With the Navy Gloves
There’s always one. The kid with the custom colorway. Navy gloves with chrome accents. A flair for the dramatic. Maybe he’s your leading scorer. Maybe he’s your biggest headache.
You pull him aside and he says, “Coach, these are what I play best in.”
You sigh. You get it. But you also know what you’ve seen.
The kid who can’t agree on gloves—what else is he going to freelance on? The clear? The slide package? The ride?
Because lacrosse isn’t a solo show. It’s jazz. It’s improv. It’s ten people riffing within the same key. And if someone’s playing off-tempo, even a little, the whole piece falls apart.
It’s About Standards, Not Control
Uniformity isn’t control—it’s clarity. You’re not saying what gloves they have to wear. Just what color. You’re not crushing individuality. You’re asking for sacrifice. And that’s the whole point of a team.
That’s why you lift in the morning. That’s why you sprint until you’re dry-heaving. That’s why you ride the bus in silence after a loss.
Sacrifice builds culture.
And culture builds wins.
Not always on the scoreboard, but in the mirror. In the long arc of life. In the way a 17-year-old kid learns to put the mission above himself for once in his damn life.
That starts somewhere. And sometimes, it starts with a pair of gloves.
The Coach’s Creed
So here’s what I’d tell any coach trying to set a standard:
Don’t force a $180 custom glove down a parent’s throat. Don’t box kids into one make and model. Instead, do this:
Pick your color—black, white, or your primary school color if available.
Say it out loud. Make it non-negotiable.
Enforce it like you enforce hustle.
Help kids who can’t afford them. Quietly. Without drama.
Watch how fast the energy changes.
Because when 20 kids show up with matching gloves—even if they’re different brands, different styles—there’s a shift. They start seeing each other. They start thinking as a unit. They start to believe the lie you’ve been selling all year: that they’re something bigger than themselves.
And the beautiful part? It’s not a lie. Not really.
Final Thoughts from the Sideline
At the end of the day, gloves won’t win games. Not directly. Not the way clears or saves or shot placement will.
But they will say something.
They’ll say: We give a damn.
They’ll say: We came ready.
They’ll say: This is not a collection of individuals. This is a team.
And in high school lacrosse, where the line between chaos and cohesion is thinner than a crease dive, sometimes that’s the edge.
Sometimes, that’s everything.
So yeah, tell them to get black gloves. Or white. Let them keep the fit they love, the feel they trust. But make them match. Because when they do, they’ll look down at their hands, see that unity, and know one thing:
They’re not out here alone.
