As well as a cynical money-making exercise, new kit launches have become part of the normal cycle of the close season.

This season the club are going with the thematic ‘New Era’, which depending on your mood is either a simple reflection of the club playing in League 1 for the first time in 15 years, or the signal of a more radical, and for the die-hards, gut wrenching change of direction.

Darryl Eales is clearly no Assem Allam wanting to change his club’s name, or Vincent Tan wanting to change the shirt colour or Pete Winkelman, changing the club’s location, but he is the owner and he hasn’t been afraid to radically change things over the last two years. So, who knows what ‘New Era’ means?

Last season’s shirt was unashamedly retro, celebrating 30 years of the Milk Cup win. I wasn’t a fan of the original, it was too pale and I didn’t like the shadow stripes, so the reboot didn’t do much for me. It is understandable, however, how the designs have taken on new meaning given the successes of last year.

Such reverential nod to the past added to a wildly successful season should give Eales more licence to change the club to his vision. After all, Oxford fans literally let Robert Maxwell rob their grannies for success. 

Late last season the emergence of Oxford/Headington half-and-half scarves raised a theory that the club might revert to its original colours of old-gold. But Eales is a Birmingham fan, and it seemed unlikely that he would want to watch his club running around looking like Blues’ rivals Wolves.

The club also ran a Twitter poll about past kits with the Adidas yellow and royal-blue offerings of the 80’s being wildly backed. For me, having grown up with the club playing in those colours this would have been perfectly acceptable. But, you only have to think back to the last post-promotion kit in 2010/11 – the 1975-inspired striped shirt – to see how sensitive people are to change.

The grand reveal on Monday unveiled a kit which throws together references to glories past while at the same time creating something entirely new. Either this is very clever design or it shows that designers have basically run out of ideas.

The yellow and navy is loyally retained with a pinstripe that harks back to the club’s back-to-back titles in the mid-80s. The sleeves with the thick yellow trim is lifted directly from the 1996 promotion shirt.

The simple Ox’s head is now our ‘official’ badge despite having worn it for the last year. The pinstripe stops just above the head to allow it space before continuing directly below it. I like that, it shows a shirt which is designed to have a badge. Details, it’s all in the details.

Call me shallow, but last year’s unbranded shirt left it looking a bit cheap, and so the Starter logo gives it more balance aesthetically. Starter, who make what is now known as athleisurewear, have their roots in US Sports rather than football. Their logo is on what is apparently now known as ‘snapbacks’ or more simply ‘hats’ in the club shop and it first appeared on the JPT final shirt. It seems to suggest that Starter helped with the sourcing of the design rather than actually manufacturing it themselves. The benefit seems to be that we’ve got much closer to what we actually want rather than having to be a slave to Nike’s ‘England in different colours’ templates.      

If football kits are art, which they’re not, then this shirt continues a narrative of a club which is both a product of its history and forward looking at the same time. Ultimately, seasons make the shirt, not the other way around but, from a pure design perspective, it’s one of the best we’ve had.

Football fans seem to suffer from acute attention deficit disorder; during the season each Saturday, regardless of previous results, fans wake up ‘buzzing’ for the day ahead. You can be 10 points adrift at the bottom of the table without a win in 15 games, but it’s Saturday and Saturday is FOOTBALL DAY.

During the close season, there’s a well-rehearsed series of close season Christmases – fixture launch day, first pre-season friendly day, new signing day. Each is greeted with the same euphoric sense of orgasmic pleasure as the last. Last week we had KIT LAUNCH DAY!

It wasn’t always like this; in days gone by kits broadly stayed the same from one year to the next. A change of manufacturer might result in a different collar, or a switch from a round neck to a v-neck. There wasn’t a culture of fans wearing shirts and clubs couldn’t see the money making opportunities that could come from changing.

Then, in the early 70s, things started to change; manufacturers started to recognise the benefit of advertising themselves through their designs; none more so than Adidas with their iconic three stripes. In the mid-80s things shifted again; I guess it was a breakthrough in technology. Kit designs got more elaborate and intricate. Oxford’s kit, previously a plain yellow with an Adidas stripe, switched manufacturer and gained pin-stripes. You could buy copies in the club shop. Over the next 30 years, kits changed with increasing frequency; first it alternated annually between changes to the home shirt, then the away shirt, and then, eventually, every season both home and away shirts were changed.

We now comply with this custom, we look forward to it, even though it’s a tax on our loyalty. We are expected to buy it, year in, year out. We don’t change our kit because it doesn’t work, it’s because there’s something in our brain which creates an anxiety that challenges our perceptions of loyalty by not being up to date. It’s a bit like that bloke you occasionally sit next to who asks whether Alfie Potter or Joey Beauchamp is still playing for us. He’s not a proper fan. For some it’s exploitative, for others, like me, we are knowingly exploited, and some resist the whole charade as the scam it is.

This year’s kit has been launched and, well, it’s OK. Truth is, I never really liked the original; we were promoted in 1984 and 1985 in bright yellow and royal blue, with a pinstripe; Division 1 saw a shift to yellow and navy, the darker blue which we’ve become accustomed to is a relatively recent change. The yellow itself was washed out and it had this shadow hoop effect with shiny bits. It was far from an aesthetic classic and just seemed to be a product of the death throes of a golden age of kit innovation. The kit after that – launched in 1987 – was a misfortunate attempt at multi-toned yellow and white stripes, years before Newcastle were ridiculed for it.

It has, of course, acquired legendary status due to the Milk Cup win in 1986, but as a classic design, it was nothing special. The 2015/16 reboot is completely logical in a season that celebrates the 30th anniversary of the Milk Cup win it’s good to see the club trying to capitalise on that. In the past these anniversary celebrations have been surprisingly muted given that there’s much commercial capital to be made from it.

The club are manufacturing their own this year, not quite back to the heady days of Manor Leisure, but a step in that direction. It’s only recently that I realised that kits were typically blank templates which were used by teams all over the world. I thought it was all tailored to us alone. But, there’s something about not having a manufacturer’s logo on which cheapens the design – that’s probably what hundreds of billions of dollars of advertising spend does distorting you into thinking a logo is a, probably fictitious, assurance of quality.

It’s also an excellent move from the club – although I imagine the process of manufacturing your own kit is a grand pain in the backside. In recent years the templates we’ve adopted can range from £10-£15 without a badge, presumably less for bulk. But that includes the manufacturer and distributor costs and profit; buying straight from the factory must push the unit price down considerably. When you’re retailing at £40, that’s a lot of profit.

In 1986, the kit was made by Umbro; a switch from Spall Sports, the Cabrini, Carlotti or Avec of the 80s. Umbro made the England and Scotland kit, at the time. They were a proper, grown up kit maker, with a proper heritage. It seemed like a genuine graduation into the big time. Not carrying a manufacturer feels like a step down; it looks like one of those not-quite-replica vintage kits that clubs now sell. In fact, we’ve been selling one of those for 1986 for the last three years – if this does become a classic, goodness knows what the not-quite-replica version will look like in 2020.

I suppose part of me laments the lack of visceral excitement of a genuinely new and exciting design; something that looks like it’s ours, and at the same time, not like ours. I’m still a sucker for the 2010/11 striped number, an update of 1975, a counter cultural classic, even though most seemed to dislike it. But most kits before and since are little more than a rearrangement of navy panelling and piping on a yellow fabric. Admittedly it’s not a broad canvas to work from; maybe we should give up trying to innovate something so limited.

Ultimately, the kit doesn’t define the year, the year defines the kit. The 1986 ‘classic’ is a classic because of Wembley, as is the 2010s vintage. So, the kit is fine, it’s not a problem, it doesn’t do much for me, but if we did get promoted, then that will probably change.

Like all good scandals; like Sachs-gate and everything Chris Morris has done for the last 15 years, the new kit furore started sometime before most had seen anything of it.

Many seem to be suffering some acute cognisant dissonance as a result of its release. Well, as we’re all in this together, let’s work through some of the issue. C’mon, you’re in a safe place now; let’s talk.

The first accusation is that this change is commercially motivated. The wildest conspiracy is that it’s a grand set-up to nail BMW as a future sponsor. The influence of Bridle and that the club’s own commercial necessities are driving the change seems, at least, plausible.

Shirt sales are a key income stream. And income pays for players. The club has a new sponsor and to maximise that income, it’s in everyone’s commercial interest to change the design. The alternative would be to keep last season’s kit, get less sponsorship income and get hammered for expecting fans to shell out for the same kit with a different sponsor. Or not sign Alfie Potter and Jake Wright.

The biggest single issue is the design itself. Specifically, the lack of yellow. The issue is compounded the fact it’s stock Nike kit. Had there been a line in this year’s accounts for several thousands pounds on a unique kit design people would be apoplectic at the wastefulness. The stock kit option is entirely practical. Let’s assume the club needed to change the kit (for the commercial reasons above). A minor change from one plain shirt to another would have invited severe criticism. Something noticeably different was needed – but Nike only do two significantly different yellow and blue shirts – the one we got and one with light blue sleeves. On balance the stripes are better.

The criticism centres on our heritage; this argument is bunk. I don’t hear people complaining that it doesn’t have train tracks on the sleeve like in 93/94 or a feint ox’s head embossed into the abdomen area as in 94-96. And why oh why are we not sticking with our traditional yellow and white stripes from our top flight years of ’87-’89? The kit evolves, as is has done from the orange with white ‘v’ from 1921.

Another criticism is that we can’t call ourselves ‘yellows’ and can’t sing songs about it. Because accuracy has always been an important part of Oxford songs – might I lead you in a few bars of ‘we are the London Road’?

The most insulting criticism is that there is a disconnection between the decision makers from the fans. This club hasn’t been this unified for decades. It has Jim’s Smith and Rosenthal providing spiritual guidance to Kelvin Thomas and Chris Wilder. Perhaps the fans would like for these four to tender their resignation in shame? Let’s grow up and get on with it.

Personally, as someone who would ideally prefer that we had an entirely plain yellow shirt that never changed, I struggled a little with the idea of it changing radically. However, I recognise the need to keep the money coming in and that it’s healthy to break the mould sometimes. I also quite like the shirt from 74/75, which was very similar. And, (any many have said this) having seen it in the flesh, it isn’t nearly as alien as it initially appears. The yellow bands shine out from the navy and it does actually look like an Oxford kit. I like it.