Chin of Destiny

Well, ouch.

It is an acknowledged certainty that, at times of great adversity, there’s only one thing to do: grow and/or cut your hair.

The Rays have the first mover advantage, having already partially shaved their heads in what is undoubtedly an homage to the youth culture of Thatcherian England. And the results are undeniable: a commanding 3-1 lead in their effort to dethrone the Red Sox.

Obviously the Sox can’t beat the Rays at their own game (and anyhow they’re missing their most follically gifted player of recent memory). This leaves growing playoff beards as the only available countering maneuver. Some of the Sox have taken matters into their own hands, which is commendable. But it seems like an insult to the Fates for one or two players to invest themselves so earnestly while their teammates blithely stay the course. 

These players are young. Maybe they don’t fully grasp the severity of the situation they find themselves in. Or maybe they can’t grow beards yet. That’s immaterial, but don’t take it from me. As someone in the position to know a thing or two about the world-historical significance of facial hair once said, “The world itself is the will to power–and nothing else! And you yourself are the will to power–and nothing else!”

So will it, Red Sox. You’ve all got exactly 24 hours to grow beards. Sleep upside down and rub some peanut butter on it if you have to, but get it done!