By December the joke has stopped being a joke. Two of you are still mathematically alive, one has been running an empty roster since October out of spite, and the group chat has become a hostile workplace. The shirt does not acknowledge any of this. The shirt maintains that this is, and has always been, an annual meeting.
DRAFT NIGHT in small gold departmental capitals, laurel sprigs at either end. ANNUAL MEETING across the full width in a heavy condensed block serif. One hairline rule. And underneath, stated as plainly as a bylaw: OF THE SAME ELEVEN IDIOTS.
Two inks — aged cream and antique gold — typeset like a genuine chalk-and-brass club notice. The formality is the entire joke, and it is never once explained.
Printed on the Gildan 18000 heavy-blend crewneck: thick, warm, and built for the part of the season that happens in the cold. Direct-to-garment printed so the plate sits in the fabric rather than on top of it. Offered in nine dark shades — dark chocolate, forest green, maroon, navy, black and more.
The line says idiots, not guys, because the league has a woman in it and she has home-field advantage.
Made to order and printed in about 3–7 business days before it ships. Wash cold, tumble dry low, and do not iron directly on the print. Minutes will not be circulated.
