For Sean Ruiz, kit man at Wolverhampton Wanderers, his role is about more than just sorting shirts. It's a position of trust, one that requires an intimate knowledge of every player's needs - the size, style, and even the color preferences.
Ruiz's day starts hours before kick-off on matchdays, when he teams up with Barry Piper to load their blank white van with everything from boots and base layers to towels and chewing gum. A morning spent unpacking at the security guards' hands, as they make room for laundry bins, boxes and igloos - a process so methodical that every shirt is hung in formation order by Ruiz himself.
"Matchdays are the best days," Piper reveals, as he flits around arranging bench coats with precision. Training days are merely about routine maintenance of all that kit. "We tick over, but this (matchdays) comes alive", he says to anyone willing to listen, though it's easy to miss the point. Ruiz doesn't require reminders to be on his toes - he's always ready for anything.
Ruiz's arrival at Wolves was more chance than choice, coming six months after stints with New York Red Bulls and MetroStars (where his dad Fernando worked, a role that had taught him everything he knew). Then his dad fell ill, prompting Ruiz to step in on the pitch. Thankfully, Fernando recovered - but it left Ruiz with an unusual decision to make when asked what experience qualified him for this job: telling a white lie about having no idea what he was doing.
"It's the service business," he quips. "You've got to figure it out." He's never had any formal training in kit management, though you wouldn't guess that as you watch him whip through his routine with ease and finesse - or take in his dedication to a job that only 1-2% of footballers ever experience.
A quick glance at the list on the wall for Wolves' preferred colors for each fixture reveals Ruiz is always keen to keep things updated, but late changes have become all too familiar. You could almost hear the sighs from kit staff everywhere as they juggle the inevitable hiccups - whether it's a misplaced shoe or an ill-fated new shirt colour.
And then, after three hours of prep work that leaves players and coaching staff utterly bemused, a team emerges with a uniform identity of its own - shirts, shorts, gloves, and boots all co-ordinated by Ruiz and his tiny but efficient team. Matchday is done before lunchtime on this particular day.
But the real magic happens when the teams face each other. As they meet in a rare pre-match chat, it becomes clear that the kit staff are more than just the guys behind the scenes: they're friends with these 25 Wolves players, who turn up to the stadium looking like heroes one minute and down on their luck the next.
You don't find this kind of camaraderie by accident. Behind every kit lies a relationship forged from trust - Ruiz knows what size to order for Tolu Arokodare's boots (a special request), how much gum he needs (Harry Warren wants an extra pack) or where in which direction he should spin his match ball (Warren). And it is this intricate understanding of the human side of football that truly makes Sean Ruiz, kit man at Wolves, one of the unsung heroes behind every Premier League victory.
Ruiz's day starts hours before kick-off on matchdays, when he teams up with Barry Piper to load their blank white van with everything from boots and base layers to towels and chewing gum. A morning spent unpacking at the security guards' hands, as they make room for laundry bins, boxes and igloos - a process so methodical that every shirt is hung in formation order by Ruiz himself.
"Matchdays are the best days," Piper reveals, as he flits around arranging bench coats with precision. Training days are merely about routine maintenance of all that kit. "We tick over, but this (matchdays) comes alive", he says to anyone willing to listen, though it's easy to miss the point. Ruiz doesn't require reminders to be on his toes - he's always ready for anything.
Ruiz's arrival at Wolves was more chance than choice, coming six months after stints with New York Red Bulls and MetroStars (where his dad Fernando worked, a role that had taught him everything he knew). Then his dad fell ill, prompting Ruiz to step in on the pitch. Thankfully, Fernando recovered - but it left Ruiz with an unusual decision to make when asked what experience qualified him for this job: telling a white lie about having no idea what he was doing.
"It's the service business," he quips. "You've got to figure it out." He's never had any formal training in kit management, though you wouldn't guess that as you watch him whip through his routine with ease and finesse - or take in his dedication to a job that only 1-2% of footballers ever experience.
A quick glance at the list on the wall for Wolves' preferred colors for each fixture reveals Ruiz is always keen to keep things updated, but late changes have become all too familiar. You could almost hear the sighs from kit staff everywhere as they juggle the inevitable hiccups - whether it's a misplaced shoe or an ill-fated new shirt colour.
And then, after three hours of prep work that leaves players and coaching staff utterly bemused, a team emerges with a uniform identity of its own - shirts, shorts, gloves, and boots all co-ordinated by Ruiz and his tiny but efficient team. Matchday is done before lunchtime on this particular day.
But the real magic happens when the teams face each other. As they meet in a rare pre-match chat, it becomes clear that the kit staff are more than just the guys behind the scenes: they're friends with these 25 Wolves players, who turn up to the stadium looking like heroes one minute and down on their luck the next.
You don't find this kind of camaraderie by accident. Behind every kit lies a relationship forged from trust - Ruiz knows what size to order for Tolu Arokodare's boots (a special request), how much gum he needs (Harry Warren wants an extra pack) or where in which direction he should spin his match ball (Warren). And it is this intricate understanding of the human side of football that truly makes Sean Ruiz, kit man at Wolves, one of the unsung heroes behind every Premier League victory.
They're so cool! I love how kit guys like Sean Ruiz take pride in their work. It's not just about sorting shirts, it's a whole thing. They gotta know what players need, like Tolu Arokodare's special boots and all that jazz. 
Like, what a lie! He must have some secret training program or something. It's actually kinda impressive how organized they get on match days, like those 1-2% of footballers who get to be kit guys.
But at the same time, I love how he's friends with the players and knows what they need. It's like, this whole other world behind the scenes of football. 
. I mean, can you imagine having to explain to 25 players what color shorts they're supposed to wear? 
. For me, kit man is way more than just a job, it's an art form... Ruiz definitely knows his stuff 
. The fact that only 1-2% of footballers get to experience this level of responsibility is mind-blowing - I bet there are so many fans who appreciate him without even realizing it 
.
. His dad had a serious heart attack 6 months ago 
, and now he's stuck in this demanding job with zero formal training 
. And don't even get me started on those ridiculous late changes 
... it's a miracle they manage to put together a decent uniform at all 
.
i feel like its so underrated how much work goes into getting a team ready for a match. sean ruiz seems like he just rolls up and knows exactly what to do. im guessing its not just about the kit, but more about being one of those few people who gets to know each player on a personal level. 
This kit man is literally the heartbeat of the team! I mean, who else gets to be so intimately involved with the players' daily lives? 
. It's clear he knows exactly what makes each player tick (literally and figuratively). 
I mean, what's up with these kit managers? They're always dealing with last-minute changes and players' weird preferences 
. 
.
. Just another day of playing by ear with a bunch of prima donnas 
. I mean, what's next? The water boys getting their own reality shows? 
i think what's amazing is how he's able to juggle the logistics of matchdays, keeping everything organized from shirts to chewing gum, all while maintaining that calm and composed demeanor 
it's not just about getting the job done, but also about creating an atmosphere where players feel comfortable and at ease on game day 
. its like he has a sixth sense for all that kit stuff.
They're just doing their job, and it's not like they're curing cancer or anything. I mean, sure, Ruiz knows his kit inside out, but that's because he's got a ton of experience working in the service industry - and even then, it's not exactly rocket science 
Can't these guys just have a normal day for once? And what's with all the fuss about kit management being an art form? It's just laundry, people! 
...you gotta respect how he figures things out, even without formal training 
...and yeah, those late changes can be a pain in the backside 
...but at the end of the day, the teams love him for it 
. His ability to anticipate and adapt to each player's needs creates this sense of trust and camaraderie that transcends just the technical aspects of football. And when you see him whipping through his routine with ease and finesse on matchdays, it's clear that he's not just a behind-the-scenes guy, but an integral part of the team's identity 
.