The Geekiest Thing I'll Ever Post

Sometime during the Larry Brown era at the University of Kansas, the typeface on the front of the jerseys went from something presumably blocky and boring to something with a few more bells and whistles. I am completely unable to speak objectively about the aesthetics of this typeface, for it appeared most prominently on the chests of the 1988 National Champions. It's entirely possible, if not likely, that it's not an attractive typeface, but it has an oh-so-special place in my heart. Regardless of my affinity for it, I still appreciate its whimsy and uniqueness from a design perspective.

I've never really heard a reason why the font was adopted by Larry Brown & Co. It could be that it is reminiscent of the Old West, and that might have resonated with the citizens of Kansas. Many affectionately refer to it as "the circus font," so it could be that it just looked right when paired with the big top-esque colors on Kansas' uniforms - blue, red, and yellow. The typeface itself evolved from this, during the Larry Brown era:


To this, during the early Roy Williams era:


To this, once Nike took over supplying the Kansas uniforms:


And it stayed once Adidas took over supplying the uniforms:


That is to say, it has been a mainstay since my childhood. To me, the circus font and Kansas basketball were inseparable. It was something that was in large part, unique to the Jayhawks - as unique as the Browns bland helmets and Tennessee's shade of orange.

In 2005, the University decided to rebrand itself. When establishing these brand standards, they chose definite shades of blue and crimson, and they chose Trajan as their font for all materials. In the beginning, this was a pretty benign decision. Trajan was reserved for University legal documents and the odd soccer mom sweatshirt, and it had yet to appear on the jerseys of any athletic programs.

In 2007, it happened. The University announced that all of its athletic programs, basketball included, would be switching to Trajan. The same font that entry-level accountants use on their resumés would now adorn the once-sacred uniforms of my beloved basketball team. Blaspheme.

My disgust was two-fold. For one, you don't fuck with tradition. You don't make the Yankees' pinstripes horizontal, you don't change the Celtics' uniforms to purple, and you don't ditch the circus font. They won a Championship in the circus font, and no one is going to give half a shit if the sports teams don't fall in line with the University's brand standards. Furthermore, Trajan is awful. It says a lot of things (poorly) but it doesn't say "I'm great in the arena of athletics." I may have been upset if the University of Kansas had decided to change their athletic font to Interstate All-Caps Regular or Knockout Liteweight, but I would have gotten over it once I'd seen how bitchin' it would look. The Trajan looked every bit as bad as I expected.


I wasn't alone in my disgust. Someone on campus went so far as to start a backlash website, TrajanSucks.com, complete with clever shirts. I bought one, officially making it the geekiest, most obscure shirt in my closet. It's a complete intersection of my design geekness and my Kansas basketball geekness, and in order to understand it, one would have to a.) know that Kansas even wore such a font b.) notice that they've changed it on their uniforms c.) know that the new font is called Trajan. Almost no one - Kansas fan or otherwise - understands it. Don't care. Moving on.

Regardless of any amount of protest, Trajan marauded through my childhood and made its way onto the uniforms of every athletic program that the University of Kansas offers. And what happened once it made its appearance? The Trajan-clad football team had its best season in living memory, capping it off with an Orange Bowl victory. And what of the basketball team, once synonymous with the lovable circus font? National Champions. Fuck.

I'm probably the least superstitious fan alive. I pay no attention to what shirt I was wearing during a win or a loss, nor do I pay attention to what color the team was wearing during a win or a loss (in 1986, Larry Brown's Kansas team lost in the Final Four whilst appearing in red uniforms. Brown decided they were bad luck and vowed never to appear in them again. He's full of shit). I don't think for one second that the switch to Trajan was somehow good luck, nor do I believe it enabled them to overcome years of futility in the case of the football program and years of failure to live up to the lofty expectations of the basketball program. At the same time, this awful, insipid Trajan typeface is now associated with success. We're stuck with it. Just as little seven-year-old me witnessed Danny Manning wearing the circus font as a champion, little seven-year-olds have now witnessed a Kansas National Championship. Forever, they will associate Trajan with Mario Chalmers' miraculous shot. The font I have adored my entire life will be a fading memory, and generations will lovingly accept Trajan as the pinnacle of Kansas success. That is, until the next rebrand.