Like any pretty serious fan of the game of baseball, I followed the now settled CBA negotiations a bit here and there. Mostly, I just read a few rumors and tweets and waited for everything to get settled. Then I read recaps and columns by people I like and trust and formed my opinions around that. What am I, some kind of math economist? There was, however, one thing that managed to really transfix my attention for the duration of the negotiations and subsequent announcements and discussions—and that one thing, is that hair thing going on over there on top of Players’ Union Chief Michael Weiner’s head.
I’m not even really interested in trying to define the thing. There’s not a word I can find in a dictionary that will do that thinning head scarf justice. It just is. And is there. Daring you to look at it. There’s something oddly commanding about it, an arrogant confidence projecting from it. The front part, riding along the ridge of the forehead, giving way into the spindly abyss of Weiner’s mid-skull, the occasional rogue strand jutting defiantly and rigid into the surrounding atmosphere. Like the helmet of a gladiator. The headdress of a tyrant. Stare and contemplate, my friends. Look deep into it. Do not blink. For it looks back into you, without pause or hesitation, and it sees what you really are. The depths of your being. The secrets you don’t even admit to yourself.