Baseball is America.  The sport that reflects the ever-changing landscape of America.  Even when our shores are threatened and social strife has torn the country apart, baseball remains.  Baseball is the unwavering rock of our civilization. 

As long as I can remember, baseball players have worn mullets, and worn them proudly. Players grew them, fans adored them, and America was united.  However, in recent years the mullet has slowly faded away from the big leagues.  Now, except for a few die-hards like Larry Walker, they are all but extinct. 

The hairstyle used to be all the rage.  Remember Billy Ray Cyrus?  John Kruk?  Even Mel Gibson once wore a one (it’s true, watch Lethal Weapon again).  There was a time when the mullet reflected US values, the values of the independent workingman.  A well-groomed mullet stands for hard work, family, liberty, and—once upon a time—baseball.

Now, as these millionaire players are shedding their mullets, they’re also abandoning the fans, too.  Think of Dale, down at the Monster Truck rally.  There was a time when Dale could get up in the morning, brush the tangle of curls in the back of his head and think, “M’Boy.  I look just like Mike Piazza.  Gonna get Trudy pregnant tonight, just like Mike Piazza would.  Get ‘er done.”  

Consider the beauty of the mullet.  Was there any sight more stirring than seeing Lenny Dykstra’s flowing locks trail behind him as he ran on the field to celebrate after the Phillies won the 1993 Pennant?  Or the way Randy Johnson’s horribly scarred face looked with a mass of fur whipping around his head? 

The mullet is sophisticated, yet primal; savage, yet genteel.  As one hairstylist put it, “The mullet means business in the front, party in the back.”  I say, the players are forgetting about the party in the back. 

These superstars have shied away from mullets in recent years, because of a negative blue-collar connotation.  They don’t want to seem “unrefined” at their ritzy social galas.  Soon, they will all be gone.

The mullet was dealt a huge blow in 1999, when Randy Johnson had his whacked off in the off season.  When asked why, the Arizona ace simply said, “I got tired of looking like some redneck, buck-toothed Bubba cousin fucker trailer trash from Alabama.  Dude, I am really, really, really, really, really rich.” 

So to our players: do not be ashamed of your horrible out of style haircuts.  Treasure them, groom them, and show them off to the fans when you doff your caps.  Because without steroids, baseball can get pretty boring sometimes.  And we need all the parties in the back we can handle.