Ever since he joined the New York Yankees, The Big Unit has been less than his normal spectacular self. At times, he’s down right stunk. Some people (especially some people who live around the Massachusetts area) would say that it’s his tenure in New York that’s done it. The pinstripes have a way of taking an All-Star and knocking him down a few notches once he puts them on. But, I have a different theory:

Run your mouse over the picture to the left. Yeah. Are you familiar with the biblical story of Samson? The brute who loses his strength with a haircut. I blame George Steinbrenner! Give Randy his mullet and broom back and you’ve got a Cy Young candidate. Take it away, and all you have left is #5 on the Top 5 Moustaches In The Majors Today. Sorry, Randy…you had so much potential for this list…

There’s something about the Fu Manchu style of moustache that screams “badass”. You can slap it on your goofiest pastey white guy and suddenly go from jolly to scary. These things would make Drew Carey look imposing.

That’s just what’s happened here. Minus the Fu Manchu, Todd Jones would just be a 38 year old cornbread Georgian. Add the Fu Manchu, we’ve got a 38 year old cornbread Georgian who just might kick your ass. That’s why I praise the Fu Manchu. Never lose the Fu Manchu, Todd, lest ye go the way of Randy Johnson sans mullet.

Now Sheffield is a physical specimen that is better appreciated up close. You have to break out the magnifying glass to engorge yourself in the intricacies attended to each detail. With an accoutrement hardly worthy of the title “stache”, Sheffield’s needle thin pin stripe is honed to a precision that would make Clarke Gable ask to touch it just to feel the energy.

This pinnacle of stache artistry has been used by boy bands and Puerto Rican chulos. But, it’s presence in baseball has been sorely missed. Thank you, Gary Sheffield, for giving us the moustache equivalent of the Kawasaki Ninja.

Sal rocks the Fu Manchu just like Todd Jones! What gives with the scoring discrepancy? Well, it’s just that Sal got his moustache by killing Rod Beck, splicing Beck’s moustache genes with Wilford Brimley’s moustache DNA, crossing Bill Ray Cyrus’ mullet DNA with Antonio Banderas’ and drinking the potion, thus creating the crown prince of facial hair, Sal Fasano.

Interesting side note: One time, Sal Fasano took the day off. Joe Torre was short handed with Posada under the weather. So, Fasano’s broom suited up and went 3-for-4 with a double and picked Carl Crawford off of first.

Ladies and Gentlemen! I present to you the Sultan of Stache, the Broom Master…Jose Valentin. With a stache so razor sharp that he’s killed two former wives just by kissing them goodnight, Valentin is a king among men. With the moustache equivalent of a ninja’s katana sword, Valentin has combined the substance of a Randy Johnson, the masculinity of a Fasano, and the stunning precision of a Sheffield. It’s bulky enough for you to take notice, yet cut in a way that makes a diamond loo
k like a pile of cottage cheese.

This, boys and girls, is the pinnacle of human achievement. It demands respect without speaking a word. Case in point, last night in Game 7 of the NLCS against the Cardinals, Valentin took a foul ball off of the moustache…didn’t even flinch. He just reached up to flick any pieces of baseball that might have gotten stuck in his stache and stepped back in the box.

That, my friends, is a MOUSTACHE!