Try as I might, my facial hair grows in patchy. My genetic coding has forever forbidden me from sporting a goatee, a soul patch or even an awesome pair of muttonchops.
I can, however, under dire circumstances put together a shoddy representation of a beard.
As the NHL nears the end of the regular season, and the Stanley Cup playoffs approach, one of the great traditions of the sport will soon appear. Yep, that's right, I'm talking about the playoff beard.
An institution in the world of hockey, the playoff beard is almost an unwritten rule amongst postseason bound players. There isn't much to the idea. Just toss out your Mach 3 and your shaving cream until your team is eliminated from contention.
So as our beloved Sabres (or whatever other franchise with which your allegiances may lie) enter the playoffs, you will then see the clean-shaven cohort turn gruff. Our baby-faced favorites will begin to embody the spirit that is hockey. They will look tough. They will look mean. They will look... like lumberjacks.
Just imagine Jason Pominville looking less like the 12-year-old paperboy and more like the man capable of populating his own namesake village. Imagine the seven strands of facial hair that emanate from Daniel Briere growing into a contorted fu-manchu that we could love and adore.
This frenzy of follicles is an outstanding show of support and solidarity amongst the team. It might not seem like much, but it is a pact, albeit a simple one, between the players. It shows that they are one team, one group, headed in one direction. They might look ridiculous, but they are all going to look ridiculous together.
Now in my life the Sabres fall somewhere between oxygen and shelter on the scale of basic needs. So in my unwavering support of them I intend to participate in their bearded tradition. I vow to leave my face furry. I may look ridiculous but at least I will be looking ridiculous with the Sabres.
There are enumerable drawbacks to my idea, yet I think that if my scraggly appearance in any way helps bring home the Stanley Cup it is worth it. I can take the spurned kisses, the terrified looks from elderly women and the fact that young children may go screaming in the opposite direction. What I cannot take, however, is sitting idly by while another chance at Buffalo sports glory comes and goes.
The proposition of nearly two months of not shaving has crossed my mind. I have grappled with the idea. The social repercussions could be vast, yet with the participation of several close friends I will not be alone in my quest. So I implore all you gentlemen and those few lucky ladies capable of the feat to join me in my razor-free support of the Sabres.
As a Sabres fan if you are willing to dawn the wardrobe of your favorite star with a replica jersey then why not join the cause? Throw down your razor and join the shave-less clan of ardent fans that will emulate their hockey idols.
I can think of nothing better than participating in this long tenured tradition to tie us closer than ever to the team that so many of us support so strongly. For so long the Sabres have carried the hopes and dreams of our hockey-crazed town. I think its time that the people of Buffalo lend their hands (or faces) and help to carry the Sabres hopes and dreams.
This is all about being closer to the team, feeling more like a part of it. There is nothing in the world like the playoff hockey experience and we are in the midst of quite possibly the greatest season ever by a Sabres team.
The team will be showing their unity with each other through the symbolic gesture of growing their beards and I think that in the spirit of true fans we should follow suit.
We may look ridiculous, but at least we'll look ridiculous with the Sabres and if I had my way, all of Buffalo.
