Alberto Mendoza Jersey

Crimson Thread, Number Seven The jersey hangs on a dorm-room nail—crimson under cheap LED light, white IU bold as a shout. It is size 44, stitched for Alberto Mendoza, walk-on wideout, 2023 roster. Polyester mesh, adidas three-leaves, Big Ten patch. Nothing more, nothing less. On Saturdays it leaves the wall. Shoulder pads slide inside like armor into a sheath. The fabric breathes, remembers August heat, October rain, November mud. Grass stains map every route he ran: slant, comeback, crack-block. The nameplate—MENDOZA—curves above the seven, letters pressed tight, no space between games. Fans see color; players see code. Crimson means Indiana, means limestone campuses, mean winter wind off 17th Street. White numbers mean roster spot, mean scholarship edge, mean play fast or lose it. One rip and the thread shows skin; one missed block and the jersey ends up on someone else. At dusk the stadium empties. Shoulder pads drop, the shirt goes back to the nail. Sweat dries, salt crusts, tomorrow’s practice waits. The jersey never sleeps; it only counts down. Thread, number, name—three clues to a short story still being written. When Mendoza leaves, the shirt stays, ready for the next body that fits.