Yesterday, as you may recall, I asked for white baseball player afros that could best the mighty Don Sutton’s. Well, the votes are in. And… it’s disturbing how many of these f–kers exist.
There were some remarkably good suggestions. Some I’d never thought of, like Tom House and Gary Carter. Some obscurities, like Randy Jones (the pitcher for the Padres, not the guy who played the “cowboy” in the Village People who shared the same name.) Some folks felt compelled to pay homage to U.L. Washington’s mighty fro, even though he’s not white, but that’s still cool because we rock the U.L. at every chance we get. Someone noted Bobby Kielty, but I’m not sure his hair — while clearly voluminous — would actually be considered a fro. Some folks stepped outside of baseball to suggest Jack Sickma, Mike Commodore and Jimmy Rodgers. A couple folks voted for Mark Fidrych, but, again, I think he falls into the Kielty camp of “white dude with a mop of hair.” Also a number of votes for Fletch. And then there was this, which is… just disturbing.
But all of this is elementary when you gaze upon the majesty that is former Baltimore pitcher Ross Grimsley. All I can say is… are you f–king kidding me?!? This is the mother of all afros. The one that controls the tides. This is the afro that tells Don Sutton’s afro when it’s time to get up and go home, and it is all at once the most frightening and most hysterical thing I’ve ever witnessed (and, folks, I’ve seen all seven “Ernest” movies). It’s Ross Grimsley’s afro’s world, people. We’re just living on it. Even more amazing is that he managed to find time for playing pro baseball and handling keyboard duties for Toto.
Congrats to commenter LoveEcksHair (!!!) for the Grimsley suggestion. Please e-mail me with the necessary size and mailing info. Shirtage!
As for the hometown boys, the Red Sox White Guys With Afros team would seem to look something like this:
Frank Viola.
Steve “Shag” Crawford.
John Henry Johnson.
And Dick Pole. Here, we could debate. Is it really an afro? Not sure. I just never want to miss a chance to write “Dick Pole.” And man, do I dig on that vintage Seattle “trident” logo.
I can’t believe there aren’t any more white guys with afros across the history of our storied local franchise. Dig deep with me, people.
And while some are hesitant to stick a fork in the 2006 season, this weekend’s series with Kansas City will be most telling. If we can’t sweep ’em away — y’know, return the favor for how they treated us when we last visited them — then I’m officially performing last rites.
