Red Sox threads are uniformly state-of-the-art

(Michele McDonald/Globe Staff)

Johnny Pesky, Boston's legendary shortstop from the late 1940s and early 1950s, is watching television in the Red Sox clubhouse as players pull on jerseys and pants for the night's game. How different are today's Sox uniforms from the ones he played in?

"They're beautiful. I think they look better now than they ever did," says Pesky, 88. "Mine were a little heavier. These are very lightweight. They probably don't get wet when you sweat like they used to. Nowadays, if a guy is uncomfortable you give him another outfit. The years we played, you took what you got."

Today's major league uniforms do look better than ever. They're stylish, made of breathable, brighter materials (whereas Pesky wore wool) and fitted to a player's body like an Armani suit.

"The pants are measured in three different categories, waist, thigh, and inseam. Every pair is custom," says Edward "Pookie" Jackson, a Red Sox clubhouse attendant for the past 14 years. "For the shirts, you go by the body and the length. Say, like, Ortiz is a size 54 shirt. Pedroia is a 42. Ellsbury a 46."

"We actually get them to fit the way we want them to fit them. A little baggier or loose - whatever you want," says pitcher Manny Delcarmen, who grew up in Hyde Park. "If they're a little tight on the side, they'll custom-fit them for us. I like to wear mine a little long and baggy, but not too baggy. Not Manny baggy. The other Manny. Just comfortable, you know."

Still, there are pages of limitations, imposed by Major League Baseball, on just how customized a uniform can be.

Regarding pants: "Pants may not be so baggy or otherwise sized or worn in such a manner that may, in the umpire's judgment, interfere with the umpire's ability to make calls or provide the Player with a competitive advantage."

Concerning jerseys: "Under no circumstances may a jersey be ordered at or altered to a length where it cannot properly be tucked in."

About cleats: "Excessive and distracting flaps and laces on shoes, particularly those on pitchers, are not permitted."

Nor can any player wear undershirts that aren't in accordance with the team's colors. Steve Murphy, another clubhouse attendant, picks out a T-shirt from first baseman Sean Casey's locker. It's green, with the words "Wicked Irish" on the chest - perfect for Boston, but not for MLB's rules.

"Everything has to be red underneath. We have a diagram in the back that show's each team's color. Anaheim has red. The Yankees have, what, dark blue. Tampa Bay's like light blue," Jackson says. Whenever Casey wears the T-shirt, he has to cover it up with a red shirt. Same goes for pitcher Mike Timlin's trademark camouflage T-shirts.

Of course, you know the aphorism about rules. Manny Ramirez, who wears extremely baggy jerseys and pants, and manager Terry Francona, who wears a long-sleeve pullover instead of the required button-down jersey during games, have been advised by Major League Baseball about breaking the dress code.

Ramirez and Francona, both high-profile baseball figures, haven't been fined, though. "We do grant some wiggle room," says Mike Teevan, MLB's manager of media relations. We take "everything on a case-by-case basis."

Indeed, the regulations don't ban all forms of personal expression. Players can wear jewelry so long as it's not distracting (is there a Red Sox player left who doesn't own a hemp or rope necklace?). Jacoby Ellsbury wears just one long sleeve, on his throwing arm, a tradition he started one chilly Maine night while playing for the Portland Seadogs. (After donning the single sleeve, he went on a hitting streak.) Curt Schilling still wears baseball stirrups, which have long gone out of fashion.

Reliever Craig Hansen has more than 100 inspirational sayings - "Dominate," "Strike out," etc. - written under the bill of his cap.

"It's stuff that keeps me motivated. It's just something I picked up halfway last year," he says.

Are teammates curious about his cap?

"Someone will say, 'What's on your hat?' I'll tell them, 'Oh, it just tells me how to pitch. You know, get the sign, come set, lift leg, throw.' " Hansen says with a laugh.

If a player is on a hot streak, and he's superstitious to the extreme, he can choose not to have his uniform washed. Fortunately, no one on the Red Sox goes that far. "I would stink," says catcher Jason Varitek, when asked whether he's ever tried such a tactic.

Indeed, players are more likely to care about smelling, and looking, good. A few even check themselves out in the mirror before heading to the dugout.

"Some guys like to look good on the field. And some guys don't care how they look. They just want to play," says Jackson. "But they look better in a Boston uniform than a Pawtucket uniform, that's for sure."