Several days ago, Cole Hamels was firing hot dogs from a four-wheeler, with the help of Cliff Lee’s disembodied smiling face.
That mustache was a symbol of his newfound leadership; its commanding presence and bristling intensity brought an aspect to Cole’s game that was basically absent before. Sure, Cole was a pretty good pitcher, but now he was a pretty good pitcher with a mustache. The Cy Young votes he got solely for that reason were probably through the roof.
And then, today, when it would matter the most:
What are supposed to think? That if Cole quits on his mustache, what’s to stop him from quitting on his team? What if he comes out to the mound today, catches a reflection of himself in the glistening beak of a passing sea gull, and loses all sense of confidence? Huh? WHAT IF THAT EXACT SITUATION HAPPENS.
And now we do not have an answer. Because for some reason, a huge, Ron Swan-stache was good enough for Cole Hamels one day, but not good enough for the day.
WHATEVER COLE. I hope that sea gull makes you sick to your stomach.