Bearded Men in Red Sox (a fashion rebellion)

Recently I noticed my nephew, formerly a clean cut, fairly conservative college kid had adopted a shaggy look, a goatee and long, wavy hair. The hair growth gave him the rough-hewn look of a Viking warrior, a Norseman. The increased facial hair got my attention. He must be searching for a new identity, I thought. The hair made him look older and added gravity to his presence. Then I noticed the the look of players on the Boston Red Sox as they battle in the American League baseball playoffs. The Red Sox players have such extreme beard growth the look borders on the comical. No, make that comical. These guys rival the ZZ Top band for the use of the extreme beard as a fashion statement. So, what is happening....

The beard worn by almost every single one of their players tell me something bigger is going on. The three-day growth has become de rigeur for professional athletes. Some players  beards border the length of mullahs... But no, this is not a religious statement. More like a political statement. The men in beards seem to be questioning their allegiance to corporate culture. They wonder if the corporation can solve all problems, debate whether corporate conformity is a good thing.  Capitalism still produces fantastic wealth but the nowadays the money does not get distributed as well as in the 50s and 60s. Of course, the Boston Red Sox all have a corporate employer-- the Boston Red Sox.

Professional ballplayers happen to be some of the lucky ones. The Boston Red Sox payroll pushes 160 million dollars total, for what?  25 guys. And imagine the mean salary...$3.44 million per player per year! That figure was reported by the Associated Press as the mean salary for professional baseball players in 2012.

Baseball players usually come from the middle to lower class ranks. I'm guessing very few have Ivy League or Wall Street parents. They want to be perceived as hardworking guys, blue collar. And they do use their hands. Ballplayers "shower after work" as Ed Schulz, the MSNBC guy likes to say. Latino players dominate the ranks. Ballplayers also want to be perceived as macho men, guys with an edge and a physical presence, not like the white collar corporate number crunchers, though the ballplayers' salaries rival a hedge fund manager's financial reward. The seeds of a rebellion against The Man may be at the core of the fashion trend towards men growing facial hair.

The Red Sox players possibly incorporate wild beards for another reason, as a way to have fun and to keep things loose in the high-pressure, overhyped world of  today's professional sports. They began playing for fun, as kids playing on the sandlots or in Little League-- before money was a motivator for pitching, hitting and catching the ball with grace and skill.

Climbing the M

If you go to Missoula, Montana the first thing you notice is the big white M resting on the hillside or the mountainside back beyond the University of Montana campus. The whitewashed letter M shines over the town and kind of pulls the whole town together. Look a little closer from the ground and you see a switchback trail leading its way to the letter M. Look even closer and you will spy hikers dotting the path on their the way to the top, a 720 foot climb. Hardy hikers get a commanding view of Missoula,  the city where "a river runs through it," a town nestled in a graceful, gently sloping valley. The M called to me and I had to make the trek.

My first ascent taken on Monday got me about halfway there. I read the sign announcing Mt. Sentinel trailhead and began. I was surprised how quickly my heart raced after traversing the first switchback, one of the longer sections, but just part one. I wondered how ready I was for the challenge. I got a few more switches under my belt and found a bench. I asked a young man what percentage of the trek we had accomplished. He pointed 100 feet further up and said "see that shrub, it's the halfway mark." So I made the shrub my goal and got that far. But I had dinner plans and so I called it a day.

Today, Wednesday, I went back and the rewards continued, but way beyond mere exercise and peaceful views of the Montana mountains stretching as far as the eye could see. This time I met people. I rested at the first bench and a hard breathing guy indicated he wanted a spot next to me. The need to catch your breath trumps any formality or even the awkwardness about sitting next to a stranger on a bench on the side of a mountain. I knew his pain. Within 10 minutes we walked side-by-side up the path. "I'm from Delaware. That's sea level," he reminded me.

"I'm from Austin, Texas, sea level too," I admitted to my fellow flatlander.

In a few minutes it came clear about our lives. He was a family man with a son flying jets in the Air Force. We were both grandparents. Then we were joined by a slender lady, bordering on frail, and a clear decade beyond the 60-something ages of Delaware and me. She walked slowly but with a determined gait. One of the lenses of her glasses was frosted over, intentionally made opaque. Forced to look at her through the one good eye, a bright blue color, she took on something a rakish pirate-quality. We all three rested on a bench and she pulled out a few maps, clipped from magazines, and provided the lowdown on local mountain trails, a hiker's paradise.  Missoulans take advantage of the gifts bestowed upon them as indicated by the steady stream of people, young and old, passing on their way up and down. Some of the college kids were running! Before long our guide mentioned she has emphysema. In the course of the walk, she also mentioned having had a hip replaced this year. Her indomitable spirit became more evident by the buoyancy in her conversation. I noticed a button on her floppy hat; it said "Keep calm and carry on." The button seemed to define her. A few switchbacks further along and I caught sight of the button on the other side of the hat: "I'm here to save the planet."

If anybody can save the planet this lady was the one for the job. I've joined her team. She won an adherent that day on the trail, gained a convert without really trying. Maybe she'll save us all, one by one.