The Moustache Follies

For those unaware, we here at TN-D are, for the most part, a bearded lot, and have been for the past several years. The beard was a part of me, providing comfort, protection from the elements, as well as a rugged handsomeness that sends the hearts of women aflutter.

That all changed last night.

The lip sweater has been making a comeback in both sports and popular culture. Brad Pitt has been seen sporting one. The St. Louis Cardinals pitching staff(along with select position players) donned them to break out of some mid-season doldrums. Not surprisingly, by the power of the moustache the Redbirds are now leading their division. Several years ago Jason Giambi used the help of a nose neighbor to help him bust out of a slump(although, it seems Giambi will do just about anything to hit a baseball).

With the Cardinals and 2-3 pints of beer as my guide I crafted a plan to help propel my recreational league softball team, The Jackpots, to our first league championship. The plan was simple: moustaches. We would all adorn our visages with the push-brooms of yesteryear. The plan was infallible, and we had two full weeks to grow them.

My ladyfriend, The Gige(pronouced "Jeeej") expressed concern over the power the 'stache might have on me. We both knew that women would throw themselves at me, that men would regard me as their natural leader. I explained to her that she knew the deal when she got mixed up with a part-time recreational league softball player and occasional upper lip facial hair enthusiast.

So last night, just before our scheduled 9:30 p.m. start, I put razor to skin and crafted the finest flaxxen flavor saver this side of Alan Jackson. I was prepared for battle.

As fate would have it, I was the only one. My moustachioed comrades fell one by one, each having his own excuse to stand down in the face of excellence("my boss won't let me," "those things look pervy," "I'm a girl...this is a coed team"). I remained unfettered--I would carry the whisker banner for us all.

In the end, The 'Pots got crushed, and the 'stache will fade into softball-league bolivion. My lip pelt did have its moment in the sun, however. In the top of the second inning I attempted to score from second on a single, and as the throw beat me to the plate it appeared there would be a collision with the pitcher who was covering home. I lowered my shoulder and braced for impact, hoping to disrupt the play...only I felt nothing. One can only presume that the pitcher was thrown onto his backside by the sheer awesomeness of my mouth brow. An MVP moment for my 'stache, for sure.

Matt Holliday, Crusher of Baseballs, Dreams

Matt Holliday hates my friend Kiloh.

Well, hate is probably too strong of a word. But he has, throughout Kiloh's life, terrorized him.

Matt and Kiloh grew up in the backyard of Oklahoma State University together. They went to the same school, were in the same grade. And long before Holliday made his debut with the Colorado Rockies he and Kiloh tangled in the Stillwater, OK youth baseball league.

Well, tangled is probably too generous a word. Matt was, as one might expect, a phenomenal athlete. And like most talented young athletes Holliday was conscripted to pitch for his team.

Kiloh played outfield for the Reds, and was one of the few(if not the only) left-handed batters in the league. As is common with hard-throwing eight year olds, Matt Holliday's control was suspect but he had learned to harness it against right-handed batters. With Kiloh being left-handed, he quickly became the unwilling recipient of Holliday's wayward pitches anytime their teams clashed.

Kiloh quickly tired of taking leather to the kidneys, and after a season of pissing blood rather than excellence he quit baseball forever. He moved on to become a well-above average guitarist, an engineer, and an avid perceiver of slights(Kiloh can, in almost any situation, perceive that he has been in some way wronged)(it's unbelievable)(seriously, any situation)(even church).

Matt Holliday went on to be drafted by the Rockies right out of high school, leading them to their first ever National League Championship Series win and World Series berth. He's been a three time all-star, and was named the 2007 NLCS MVP.

Kiloh's kidneys eventually healed(although he still goes to the bathroom about every 25 minutes) and even came back to baseball, becoming a fan of the Chicago Cubs after taking in a game at Wrigley in 2004. It was a natural fit--over the years Cubs fans have believed themselves to have been slighted in many, many fashions. A goat, a black cat, Steve Bartman...all have been blamed for the Lovable Losers' woes. Kiloh believes the newest slight, however, to have been targeted directly at him.

On July 24th, 2009, Matt Holliday became a St. Louis Cardinal--the arch enemies of Kiloh's beloved Cubs. The Cubs were favored to win the National League Central Division coming into this season, and have flip-flopped with the Cardinals all season. Although he won't openly admit it, Kiloh fears that once again Matt Holliday will get the best of him.

And he's right. Since joining the Cards Holliday has hit .606 with 10 RBIs in 9 games. Of the 10 RBIs, 7 of them have either tied games or put the Cardinals ahead. With two months to go in the season it will be interesting to see just how damaging Holliday is to the Cubs postseason hopes.

A fastball to the kidneys might be less painful.