Hockey tradition dictates thou must’n shave thy beard until thy team is eliminated from the playoffs. I’m not much of a fan of hockey, but I certainly like the tradition (one of many hockey traditions I enjoy including hitting guys with sticks and dating women way too hot for you). Since I am a proponent of tradition, I adopted that philosophy towards a sport I actually care about: baseball.

I don’t talk about it much, but I’m a huge Yankee fan. It’s one of the traits I inherited from my father. I grew hearing stories about Mickey Mantle and how much my father wanted to change my first name to Bucky Dent. When I was five and started playing t-ball, I was thrilled to be on the Yankees (although, three of the four teams in the league were named Yankees). Interests come and go. People drift in and out of your life. Seasons change. People get older. Life goes on. The one thing that remains my consistent is my Yankee fan love (and an unhealthy Derek Jeter obsession).

That’s why every October I wear a playoff beard. Some years, the Yanks go deep and I go a month without shaving. . . . . .