We could spend a tired career chronicling the gloryhair tennis bestowed upon us from 1973 to 1988. Instead, our goal is to focus, not on the most magnificent specimen (see: Bjorn Borg), but on deconstructing the steepest decent from coiffure wonderment. There is no stronger example in the sport than Mr. Sure Shot himself...
Sweet Mercy. Our thoughts and prayers go out to that tremendous headband, for it's truly one of God's sweet miracles. We'd throw up an AFTER shot of Mr. Graf, but fear the gleam would burn a hole through most retinas.
Enjoy your weekend plebs, and remember...don't be careful...be hairful.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Jimmy Connors. Nuff said
Post a Comment