Eric says:
It's hard to imagine where baseball would be without Rollie Fingers' handlebars, where the Broncos would be this season if Jake Plummer's facial monstrosity weren't leading them or what sports would be at all without the concept of not cutting facial hair during the playoffs.
Luckily, we don't have to imagine these things because they exist in live and photograph form.
I really shouldn't even write anything here, I could just post a plethora of photos to make my case for me, but I figured I'd write something so that Ziemer at least had a fighting chance.
The biggest reason regular hair loses this battle is that it can be a negative aspect. I mean, anybody can grow their hair out and 'fro it up … I did it my freshman year and it was fantastic. But hair can also look terrible — just picture Scot Pollard's goofy ponytail or Gene Keady's comb-over.
A mustache can never look bad. If you have a nice mustache like Robin Yount's blond one or Wade Boggs' classic, then that's fine and good. But you could have crazy mutton chops — which Pollard also sported — Dave Wannstedt's uneven upper lip or the dirty 'stache that I sported a couple weeks ago, and the thinking is "the worse, the better."
Take the mullet (undoubtedly the worst haircut ever), for instance. No matter how "good" or bad a mullet is, it's hideous. But if you can grow the worst-looking mustache, you're the envy of the town.
Besides, it's a status symbol. If you have the capabilities of growing a Fu Manchu or the handlebars, then you are amazing. If you can pull off the dirtball look — and, boy, can I (though I'm back to being clean-shaven at the request of my female fan base) — all the more power to you. But while everyone can grow hair in whatever fashion they want, not everyone can grow a mustache.
Just ask Tom Ziemer.
Tom says:
Gorgeous. Beautiful. Breathtaking. These are words used to describe hair.
Dirty. Porno. Gross. These are words reserved for the realm of the mustache.
Even Schmoldt knows this. Yet still, he couldn't resist the urge to join his distant relative Brandon Gullicksrud in stepping foot in the Herald office rocking a Burt Reynolds imitation 'stache.
There's simply no way hair on the face can even be compared to hair on the head. One is supposed to be there; hair on someone's head is a unifying factor for humans. The presence of a mustache is shunned by society, reserved for the Dan Gladdens of the baseball world and the Dave Wannstedts of football.
So there's no question what is better on athletes — it's crazy hair. Would anyone really have noticed Dennis Rodman had he joined the San Antonio Spurs with a beard or mustache? — NO. Rodman's blond, green, pink or (insert color here) hair made waves. A beard certainly wouldn't have done that.
Crazy hair in sports is a sign of greatness — just ask Julius Erving. Can you really even debate what was responsible for his success? Of course not. That 'fro would beat down his mustache in a heartbeat.
Extravagant hair looks good on any field — just take a look at the pitch (have to give props to Point-Counterpoint reader and UW left back Zack Lambo here). People don't care about David Beckham's facial hair … but his locks always get plenty of attention.
And take a look at the cream of the college basketball crop — namely Gonzaga forward Adam Morrison.
Morrison has always had the long hair. He added the 'stache this year. So, by using the hair as a control and the mustache as a variable, it's possible to determine the value of each. Morrison is averaging 28.5 points per game this year, compared to 19.0 a year ago. So this means the mustache has a probable value of 9.5 points per game … leaving those 19.0 from a year ago to be attributed to the hair.
So, go ahead, Schmoldt. State your case. Because with that mustache you had, you might have to in a court of law.