I have a big head. And as egotistical as I may be at my worst, the previous statement is not intended to be psychological in nature.
My hat size is eight, which also happens to be the biggest size that is commercially available.
I was the kid in Little League who needed to turn the dugout upside down before his at-bat to find the one extra-large helmet to slap on over the top of my hat before I headed out there.
I just can't do those hats with the buttons on the back. They're supposed to be one-size-fits-all, but I've had better luck letting the two plastic tails fly free than to try and gamble my hopes on the one button I can cinch up lasting longer than five minutes.
For this reason, I've gone the fitted route since I was a little kid. I believe I'm on my fourth or fifth fitted Tigers hat now. It's my comfort wear. They won't, but if they were to ever commission a statue of me, I'd ask that it be of me trying to take a picture, scribble something on the notebook in the crook of my arm and take a swig of Diet Dr. Pepper, but the most important detail would be the hat.
However, sometimes your favorite T-shirt is in the wash, and good sense dictates that I can't wear my Tigers hat all the time, which is why I have a small collection going these days.
The most recent add to my collection is a Mets home hat, for those days when I want to feel big-city sophistication without the stink of the New York Yankees.
When my baseball historian/dork side surfaces, I grab my Brooklyn Dodgers replica as an homage to the one and only Jackie Robinson.
When I go to Calumet, there's tough choices to be made: Grab the (now-outdated) Blue Jays hat for Canadian, baseball fan and Public Schools of Calumet-Laurium-Keweenaw superintendent Daryl Pierce or grab the Phillies hat for Aspirus Keweenaw certified athletic trainer extraordinaire Dorothy Jamison, who grew up in the Philly area? Tough call, but Dorothy does usually bring cookies, and I?can be bribed with food.
When I'm feeling smart or a little zany, that's when I reach for my Oakland A's hat. The yellow bill's a little garish, but the fit is an A-plus.
My Houston Astros hat fits kind of tight but it reminds me of my Uncle Brian in Texas, a relative who reminds me of me. He's been to a few games at Minute Maid Park and occasionally calls this sorry bunch from Houston the Disastros. (A pun only I could love.)
When I'm feeling a little cheesy, I grab my Milwaukee Brewers hat. I have no beef with the Brewers - looking forward to catching a game with a brew and a brat with Secret Stadium Sauce at Miller Park this summer.
I have a Minnesota Twins hat that I got on a giveaway day at the Metrodome, but it doesn't get much wear. I still have scars from 2009. Now that the Minnesota Vikings extorted their way into a new stadium, perhaps I'll wear it if I get the honor of blowing that god-forsaken place to smithereens.
On pay day, I feel like a Pittsburgh Pirate. Not because I'm getting paid in doubloons but because the same people who own this newspaper own the Bucs.
When I'm a little hot under the collar, I grab my Arizona Diamondbacks hat in honor of manager Kirk Gibson, the ex-Tiger with a mean streak.
If I'm feeling political, it's time for the Washington Nationals, first in war, first in peace and currently, first in the National League East.
And as far as baseball, that's the extent of my collection for now. Don't want to get the rotation too big, because they shrink when I don't wear them.
Besides, I'm not nearly trendy or downtrodden enough to wear a Red Sox or Cubs hat. I don't want to advertise for AL Central rivals in Chicago, Cleveland or Kansas City. I'm not over the 2006 World Series, which rules out St. Louis.
First things first, I've got to get me a haircut, because there's nothing more useless than a baseball cap that doesn't fit.
Brandon Veale can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/redveale.