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Greg Prince and Jason Fry
Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.

Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.

Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.

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Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Not a lot to say about our boys this morning — David Wright is today's

obligatory mass profile (nice kid, drinks milk, works hard), with the

occasional side trip to see how Matt Ginter's shave went. (Randolph

says Ginter now looks cute. Really.) Chris Woodward's wife of five

years has supposedly never seen him without facial hair, so if she's in

St. Lucie, yesterday probably cemented her opinion of Willie Randolph

one way or the other.

Shave Day vaguely reminds me of a season in the late 80s or early 90s

in which the team pulled one of those “We're not shaving till we lose”

rallies. (Whatever year it was, it didn't work.) I seem to remember

Jeff Musselman sheepishly admitting that he couldn't grow a beard

anyway, and David Cone losing a fight with his significant other and

being forced to shave his off for a wedding. And that was largely

before the era of bleach-blond tips and other wretched things players

now do to their hair. (Exhibit A: Bronson Arroyo's fantastically

ridiculous cornrows.) I've always assumed they do their blond tips

themselves with a Clairol kit, pulling little locks of each other's

hair through the holes in the plastic cap and wearing plastic gloves.

Strangely enough, this always gets left out of the team highlight

video. (Obligatory reference to Piazza's ash-blond makeover in Chicago,

which of course sparked Todd Zeile's immortal quote that “this is the

kind of loss that makes you go right to the hair salon.” I miss Zeile.

Miss his quotes, I mean.)

I wonder how Don Bosch's

obligatory mass profiles went. You'll remember Bosch was supposed to be

the next Willie Mays, but the player who showed up in camp in '67 was

short, had gray hair at 24 and ulcers. Wes Westrum's reaction: “My God,

they sent me a midget.”

Bosch hit .157 for us in half a season's worth of at-bats. 

(There's an obvious question here, isn't there?) Yet we somehow we

turned him into Don Cardwell. Good trick. Blond tips could only have

helped him.

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