RICK ROGERS: How many T-shirts does one man need?

While driving Tuesday afternoon to grab a bite to eat for lunch, I couldn’t help but chuckle as the personalities on a sports radio talk show were discussing the strange love affair between men and their T-shirts.

The two guys shared stories of the T-shirts they refuse to let go of, and that still take residence in their chest of drawers. These T-shirts would, or at least, should, never be worn in public, but yet for some reason they never find a home in the trash bin.

I laughed because it got me to think about the drawers full of old T-shirts I own, and why I don’t know.

Why do men love their T-shirts so much? And why does our love grow with every new mustard stain or rip and tear?

I came up with the answer when I went home for dinner, and decided to investigate the T-shirts I have stored away in my dresser and bins in the closet.

The answer is: T-shirts, in some weird way, are like wearable diaries.

Here is a breakdown of the kinds of T-shirts I currently own — yet many of them I would never wear outside the house:

Sports T-shirts
This is a no-brainer. Being a sports fan, I have a vast collection of Cardinals, Rams, Chiefs and assorted sports tees. When someone is in need of a simple gift idea, a Cardinals T-shirt seems to be a no-brainer for my family. I also have a collection of local sports T-shirts. There’s a growing collection of Neosho Wildcat tees, along with a handful of Carthage Tiger shirts I collected while working at the newspaper there in the late 1990s and early 2000s.

Then, there are the shirts at the bottom of the piles that should never be worn again. Like the Brett Hull T-shirt from college that is a size too small, and stained from nearly the collar down.

Or the T-shirt from my high school baseball team, which is ripped from the armpit nearly to the bottom seam.

The worst T-shirt of all is a 1985 World Series Cardinals T-shirt — it is a size medium, I wear an XL now, and it’s faded so bad that it is nearly illegible.

It’s not a collectible, but it has to be collecting varieties of bacteria by now.

Vacation T-shirts
The runner-up in the T-shirt collection are those purchased during vacations or trips.
Of course, I have a small assortment of Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts, with the coolest being one from Hong Kong. I have a T-shirt from our honeymoon from Cancun that is so stiff that it could nearly sit up on its own. When in doubt of a souvenir, T-shirts are an easy purchase and that’s why I have a variety from the Johnson Space Center in Houston to the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto that I refuse to throw away, but will never see the light of day.

Again, the T-shirts really now only serve as ways to preserve memories.

And finally, the white undershirt
For some reason, the male DNA does not allow us to stop wearing white undershirts until the following happens:

- The stains in the armpits from caked on deodorant get so thick that you can no longer lower your arms;

- The collar on the shirt crumbles in the washer;

- More than 10 holes form in the body of the shirt. Nine holes or less is still acceptable for wearing;

- Your wife, girlfriend or significant other finally makes the comment, “if  you wear that shirt again, I am leaving you.”

So, men of Neosho and Southwest Missouri, look in your chest of drawers, take an inventory of your T-shirt collection, and ask the question, “Do I really need 12 “Peace, Love and Crabs” Joe’s Crab Shack T-shirts?

We all know the answer.

Rick Rogers is the publisher of the Daily News.