Mario Landino Jersey

Mario Landino’s Crimson Ride: The Jersey That Never Stops Motorin’ Heads-up, Hoosier Nation—if you spot a crimson blur with a motor on it, that’s Mario Landino and the loudest laundry in Bloomington, the one and only No. 13 jersey. Yeah, 13, the number your grandma side-eyes at bingo. But Mario? He treats it like four-leaf clover fuel. Front view: big block “IU” mid-chest, looking like it just flexed out of a 1990s rap video. Spin him and you get “LANDINO” stretched across the back—so long it needs its own zip code. The 1 and 3? Basically a 10-speed bike standing at attention, ready to sprint. Fabric’s that Adidas space mesh—feels lighter than your group-chat excuses. Mario says first time he slipped it on it tried to take off without him—equipment guy had to grab a sleeve like, “Passport, please.” Once the shoulder pads slide in, though, boom—instant nitro boost. Game-day drill: hoodie off, quick hair-gel flick (gotta stay aerodynamic, folks), pads shoved in like you’re packing a burrito that can squat 500. By kickoff the jersey’s vacuum-sealed to his ribs. First hit? Grass stain shaped like Italy on the hip—Mario calls it “touring the boot.” Second hit? Turf pellet stuck to the 3 so it reads “1.3” —dude literally wears his own speed rating. Bookstore chaos: $140 a pop, gone faster than free Chick-fil-A on campus. Kids snatch ’em oversized so they can “grow into Landino wheels.” Reality check: wheels not included, batteries sold separately, results may vary and probably will. Fourth quarter hits, that thing is cooked—crimson turned to sad marinara, nameplate wrinkled like it just read its own syllabus. But Mario swears the sweatier it gets, the stickier his feet become. Basically a weighted cape that whispers, “Keep motorin’, baby.” DBs grab cloth and come up with nothing but regret and a souvenir bead. Post-season spa: industrial wash so violent it could detail a semi. Jersey pops out 90% new, 10) espresso-fueled swagger. Next year’s No. 13 inherits microscopic flecks of Landino vroom-vroom—like fairy dust but with a two-stroke engine. So if you cop the replica, rock it loud—just don’t try to outrun your dog at the park unless you wanna face-plant in a squirrel convention. Mario Landino’s jersey got stories; yours just got mud and a participation ribbon.