Since 2010, RMNB has been keeping track of Caps fans’ playoff beards under the banner #beardpact. It’s been our way of keeping in touch regarding our ill-advised facial-hair enterprises, sending some traffic towards Beard-a-Thon, and having a few laughs.
Maybe that’s been fun for you, but it’s been hell for me.
When I can actually grow a beard, I look really bad. Like Nick Backstrom bad. And my so-called friends have this awful habit of getting married during the playoffs. Like every goddamn year. It’s as if their wives didn’t even care about Bruce Boudreau’s job. And have you ever tried to talk to a smart and sophisticated lady while you have the facial scruff of a pubescent seventh grader?
So, yeah. Not this year, guys. I am not growing a playoff beard.
I could pretend like this is an anti-superstition thing, but it’s not. While I still vehemently believe that my scratchy-ass face has absolutely no effect on the Washington Capitals’ unblocked even-strength shot-attempt differential while the score is close, that’s not why I’m bailing on #beardpact. I’m just sick of letting everyone down every year.
Check it.
- April 24, 2010: The Caps had a 3-1 series lead over the Canadiens when I left for a wedding in Florida. I shaved before the ceremony and you know what happened next. P.S. Don’t eat at Don Shula’s. That place is a scam.
- April 29, 2011: With the reluctant permission of my personal guru Suzanne Kang, I allowed myself to “clean up” my beard. The Caps dropped four straight to the Tampa Bay Lightning.
- May 10, 2012: I actually attended a wedding with a full-on beard, but was later forced to scale back for a business meeting in California. The Caps managed to beat the Bruins, but fell in seven games to the Rangers while I looked like an utter tool with my van dyke.
I’ll be attending a wedding on May 18th. I’ve decided to stay clean-shaven for the duration of the playoffs rather than break ranks after two weeks, provided– knock on Rechlicz’s stick– the Caps are still in it by then. I find it’s better to disappoint you a little now than disappoint you a lot later.
And c’mon. This wasn’t a good look for me.
I won’t blame the desolation that is my social calendar on my futile beard-growing efforts, but I detect a statistically significant correlation in there that I’d like to get peer-reviewed if anyone has a TI-83 and some spare time. In general: no, the womenfolk did not take kindly to the soupcatcher.
So I’m out. I acknowledge that I am violating ritual and dissolving the bonds on fandom here, and for that I am truly sorry. I’ll still throw some bones to Beard-a-Thon in the form of a donation, but my face shall stay smooth.
(Unless the Caps get their FenClose over 53% next season, in which case I’m totally going Grizzly Adams up on you guys.)
In the meantime, I strongly encourage all of you to participate in #beardpact and Beard-a-Thon. Take a pic of your facial hair progress and tweet it at us with the hashtag #beardpact. It’s still a thing. Chris and Ian are probably still doing it, I bet.
Again: sorry. My bad.
