Alright so I’ve been digging through my scrapyard of a garage again—you know how it is. Found this dusty box tucked behind Christmas decorations and my old camping gear. Cracked it open and boom: my beat-up pair of 1997 Converse hoops shoes. Figured I’d dust ’em off and see what the fuss was about back then. Here’s exactly what I did:
Scraping Off Decades of Dirt
First thing? These babies looked like they’d been buried in mud. Grabbed a damp rag and scrubbed the uppers. Took forever to get that grime off. Noticed the material felt crazy thick compared to my modern sneakers—like cheap plastic rain boots but somehow softer? The laces crumbled to dust in my hands. Had to raid my junk drawer for replacements.
Holding These Brick Weights
Lifted one shoe and almost dropped it. These things feel like actual bricks. Weighed ’em on my kitchen scale out of curiosity: 21 ounces each! My current runners are like 9 ounces. Laughed imagining sprinting in these tanks. The soles? Hard rubber slabs. Smacked one against my porch step—sounded like a textbook hitting concrete.
The “Bounce” Test That Flopped
Took them to my driveway hoop. Dropped a basketball next to them for comparison—the ball bounced higher. Tried jumping in place. Zero cushion. Literally zero. Felt every single pebble under my feet. Jumped for a layup and my knees groaned. Couldn’t decide if I was wearing sneakers or wood clogs.
Why Bother Then?
- Pure nostalgia grease: These smell like middle school gym class and regret. Wearing ’em feels like 1997 slapped me in the face.
- Durability? Yeah, if surviving in a garage for 27 years counts.
- That old-school silhouette: Chunky. Clumsy. Made my feet look like cartoon boats. Kinda cool in a “I don’t care” way.
Bottom line? These are CRAP for actual basketball. My feet hated me after 20 minutes. But holding them now? You remember how simple the game felt back then. No gel pods, no air bubbles, no space-age fibers—just canvas, rubber, and sweat. That’s the special sauce. Not performance. Just history.
