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.