"... a Rousseau-esque gesture that was crucial to the age of Aquarius, a time when long-established norms of behavior collapsed and made public life a clearer expression of formerly unspeakable private desires. By contrast, the shaven and crew-cut athlete suggests a martial fury that is joyless—a grim, self-denying efficiency that may work in war but is exactly the opposite of the essence of baseball, which, for all its competitive ardor, is playtime...."
Just be careful that beard doesn't obstruct anybody.
(Wow, in the GIF at that second link, Middlebrooks looks like he's dancing The Worm.)
ADDED: "Immediately after we got off the field into our locker room, we congratulated Jim and said, 'Great call.' It's out of the ordinary, but when it happens, and it's the World Series, you expect to get it right."
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Beards are mostly used as camouflage for a double chin.
Looks like the New Yorker pays upwards of $3 per word. Writers like money as much as anyone and inflated prose, of which that snippet is a remarkable example, is the result.
Face stubble cuts down wind chill.
I started to grow my beard on the first day of Rosh Ha Shana for the Red Sox to whom I have been devoted for more than six decades. By Yom Kippur I liked it enough to decide to keep it for a while. Two strangers have asked me for permission to photograph. A first in my life. Not flattering, just a fact. If all the Red Sox bring me this year is this beard, it will be disappointing but not as disappointing as having to live under the last three presidents of the U.S.of A.
I could handle the beard/hair thing on baseball players if they respected the game by wearing their uniforms and hats correctly and/or consistently. Half the time you can't tell the players from the equipment man especially when they play night games in 30 degree temps ( whole other problem with baseball)
"Looks like the New Yorker pays upwards of $3 per word."
I think it's just that The New Yorker's game is making readers who aren't really that smart feel smart. Long strings of words, especially words you weren't expecting, scores easily.
The New Yorker is not at all as well-written as it used to be. I see sloppiness that would never have gotten past the editors in the 70s, or is that just me remembering the golden days of the 70s?
That should be "score easily," says the editor at Althouse (me) who never proofreads before hitting publish.
It's all after-the-fact editing.
Hey, it's Erico Pallazzo!
Of that NYer piece, EB White of Strunk fame would have said, "Omit needless words. Vary sentence length."
The going rate for freelance writers 30 years ago was $1 a word. Most places today, it's about the same, the NYer and a few other places excepted.
Middlebrooks looks like he's dancing The Worm.
He is a lousy fielder.
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