When I was a kid, I had a thing for mustaches.
Not in a weird way, mind you; I just liked mustaches.
In fact, whenever I started to draw a picture of a guy, he’d inevitably wind up with this thing that looked like a cat tail above his mouth. Nothing fancy. Just your tasteful, little-bit-of-hair-above-the-lip-but-not-too-crazy mustache.
And, of course, I wanted one of my own. But unlike my friend Mel — who had a full beard and mustache in the 7th grade — I couldn’t grow facial hair. So the best I could do was make a fake one — usually with yarn or whatever fell on the floor after a haircut.
So you can imagine how excited I was when Yankee slugger Jason Giambi sported a retro ’stache, thinking, from a scientific standpoint, that more hair would help his hand-eye coordination. And then you could imagine how disappointed I was when I learned he’d shaved it because, contrary to everything we’ve learned, mustaches really can’t help you hit a baseball better.
Back in the day, the Major Leagues was always a reliable place to find a good mustache. So much that some have even made lists of top ten baseball mustaches. (What — no Reggie Jackson?)
There have been good mustaches on TV and film, except that, really, when you talk about actor mustaches, there’s really one that’s far superior to all others.
In music, the Eagles gave us great mustaches. But check out this facial hair by Lindsey Buckingham. But, of course, just like everything else in music, the Beatles ruled when it came to facial hair.
So I’ve had this mustache for about 15 years now. My wife and daughter have never seen me without it. Heck, I could have a tattoo* on my lip, and they’d never know.
So I recently told myself that maybe it’s time, like Jason Giambi, to give it up. To go smooth. To hack the ’stache and be free of it all.
I said that to myself. But then, all of the sudden, I was like: “Why are you talking to yourself?” And then I added: “About mustaches?”
And it was then and there that I decided to keep the mustache. Because, like Lionel Richie, I believe in the mustache. I see value in the mustache as a cultural icon. And I know I must carry on that tradition.
Because, really, when all my heroes let me down (both John Oates and Tom Selleck have shaved) who will be left to carry the torch?
* of a mustache
Posted on August 22nd, 2008 by Pat
Filed under: The World According to Pat
Most of the important men in my life have had great and creative facial hair. Remember my Grandpa’s sudden Abraham Lincoln beard when he was in his late 80’s? And my Dad could have passed for Tom Selleck back in the day. I’m glad I married you and your moustache. I would support you even if you decided to grow handlebar staches and start waxing the ends into artistic shapes. I’m not sure my Mom would like it though.
Speaking of mustaches, it looks like Bill Buckner has a couple of spare ones growing over his eyes on that baseball card a couple of posts back.
I remember the Oakland A’s of that era. Rollie Fingers looked like an 1800’s gunslinger.
If you do decide to shave it off, do it in the dead of winter when all traces of suntan have faded away. lol. nothing looks funnier than a guy who has a tan on his face except the place where he just shaved off his facial hair.
I think it would be nice as a daughter to see my dad without his mustache. my dad would always grow then shave, so that i never got too used to one or the other. i got to see him transform and change regularly.
as long as you are halfway decent looking and are not growing facial hair as a way to cover up ugliness, lol, shaving is a good thing once in a while.