Championship Buzz by friendsdontletfriendshavehair

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As I prepared to wind up and fire what I hoped would be a game winning pitch, I moved the hair out of my eyes. It was the last game of the season and although my team had enough of a winning record to make it to the playoffs, it never hurts to win as many games as possible to boost team morale and get the best possible positioning for the tournament.

We were winning the game at 7-6, but the bases were loaded and the Tigers’ strongest hitter, Brent Ramirez, was up to bat. Brent was a tall and athletic guy with kind brown eyes and a super short haircut. His hair was cut to a high skin fade on the sides and the top was buzzed to about a 2 guard. I only know this because I had once accompanied him to the barbershop, where he visited once a week to keep his military style closely cropped. He and I had a bit of a relationship, but we never told anyone. We were both 21, I had known I was gay since I was 15 and was comfortable with people knowing, but Brent hadn’t come out yet and wasn’t comfortable telling anyone. Anyway, I knew he had gone to the barber recently, as I could see this freshly shaved skin peeking out from under his helmet.

I was close to striking Brent out. Two strikes on the board. All I had to do was throw one more. Brent knew it, and in that moment, the brown eyes I loved stared at me challengingly. I tried to make out my catcher’s signal through the forelock of hair that hung out from my cap and landed on throwing a fastball. My strong arm geared up to the pitch and I went through the motions of the pitch.

Much to my dismay, Brent smacked the ball with his wooden bat, sending the ball flying out of the park and circling the bases, flipping off his helmet when he reached home plate. The bald skin on the sides of his head glistened with sweat in the sunlight, and his buzzcut looked as fresh as ever. He celebrated with his team, as they now had the number of wins required to make it to playoffs as well. My catcher and the rest of my team looked disappointed. The catcher explained to me that he had motioned for me to throw a curveball, as those were Brent’s weakness, but I must not have seen it because of my "stupid hair."

It seemed that each member of my team that I spoke with was implying that I should cut my hair and that it was the reason we had lost, a reaction I found a bit dramatic. However, as someone who has had mid to long length hair all my life, I have always been fascinated by short haircuts. I had watched YouTube videos and fantasized about a traditional barber thwacking away at my girly tresses. Perhaps this would be the push I needed to find myself caped and shorn in a barbers chair.

After the celebrations and all the players and families had left, I waited outside for Brent. He loved spending time with me, but he just said he wasn’t ready for people to know, so we always snuck time together.

When he came out, jokingly gloating about his win, eye black makeup was dripping down his cheeks. Brent was the funniest person I’d ever met, and I knew that this win had made him happy, so that pretty much made up for the disappointment I’d caused the rest of my team. Still, I couldn’t get the suggestion of a haircut out of my mind.

After some small talk with Brent, I worked up the courage to ask, "How do you think I’d look with short hair?"

Brent flashed his white teeth at me, responding, "You finally coming over to my side? Truthfully, I’ve always thought about what you would look like with a short cut. With your strong jawline though, I’d bet I’d be even crazier about you."

"Oh stop," I said, "The team kinda implicitly suggested I needed to lose the long hair if we had a chance at winning the championship because I misread the catcher’s signals during your at-bat."

"Well, your team doesn’t stand a chance at winning the championship know that the Tigers are in it," Brent joked, pulling me into a bear hug as we walked. "I think you’d look realllly attractive with short hair though, babe."

I was shocked, he had never called me babe before.

"How bout I take you to Larry’s tomorrow and we can get that mop of yours taken down?" he suggested.

Reluctantly, I agreed. Carried away by my fascination with short cuts or by Brent’s charm, I knew I’d be caped at barber Larry’s tomorrow.

The next day came quickly and soon enough I found myself being led into Larry’s by Brent. Larry had been a barber in our hometown for years, an older man with a clearly traditional style of barbering. I had never been a client, taking my business instead to a salon down the street.

"We don’t do women’s styles here," said Larry from the barber chair he sat in. The shop was empty.

"Hey, Larry, this is my… um… friend Thomas. He’s a baseball player too and he wants a haircut," Brent said.

Larry lifted himself from the chair, remarking "Looks like the boy hasn’t had a proper haircut in years. Sit down son."

I felt my legs wobble as I ventured to the chair and sat down, looking into the mirror and knowing that my long hair would be no more when I left the shop. Larry wrapped a strip of white paper around my neck and threw a pinstriped barber cape around my shoulders. No escaping now.

"So, what can I do for you Lass?" the barber joked.

Before I could answer, Brent chimed in. "His team blamed him for their loss yesterday because his hair blocked him from seeing what he needed to."

"Seems like you would benefit from a pretty short cut then, huh, son?" the barber questioned.

"Um… well, I suppose sir." I replied.

"Do you like Brent’s haircut?" followed the barber.

I had to feign disinterest in Brent’s hair and act like I hadn’t fantasized about getting my hair clipped just like his in that moment. Something in me broke and I answered, "yes sir."

"Wonderful, lad. Sit tight and I’ll have you looking like a man in no time," the barber said.

He picked up his scissors and quickly got to work. He began on the sides, cutting off all but about an inch of my brown hair, and before I knew it, hair was cascading down the cape on fell lifelessly to the checkered floor. He then came right in front of me, blocking the mirror. He combed my hair down my forehead and began snipping. I felt the cold scissors against my forehead, about an inch from the root, and could feel the hair falling get caught on my nose, causing it to get ticklish. When he stepped to the side and I could see myself in the mirror once more.

Staring back at me was a regular boy, no longer brought down by pretty boy tresses. I was now sporting a regular ivy league -and was rather pleased. However, I knew this wasn’t the end, as Larry picked up a pair of Oster clippers, took off the guard, and turned them on. They whirred to life and soon Larry was carving a line into my hair starting at the temple and going all the way around my head. He then brought the clipper down in quick motions, reducing my one inch pelt to mere stubble. He then focused his efforts on the top of my sides, working to blend the skin below to the top, which I knew would soon be reduced as well. Soon, I turned and saw in the mirror that my sides had been turned from pretty boy length to a crisp high skin fade, just like Brent’s.

I thought about Brent, and commented to him. "How am I looking?"

He got up and I could see him behind me in the mirror. He smiled and said, "You might just look better than me when we get out of here. That’d be a first, huh?" He joked.

I laughed and refocused on the haircut. Larry was attaching a 2 guard to his clippers and brought them to the hairline on my forehead.

"Ready, princess?" He joked.

"Do what you must, sir," I returned in a joking tone.

And with that, he pulled the clippers through the top of my mane, reducing what I had had my whole life even further until only a small fraction of an inch remained. I looked like Brent’s twin. Larry then gathered some shaving cream in his hands and slathered it around the prickly stubble that made up the shortest hair on my back and sides. I could feel it as his razor peeled back anything left. The sensation was completely new to me, but it was smooth and satisfying. I turned my head once more when Larry finished working and saw that my locks had been clipped into a short military buzz, just like Brent’s. Shocked was an understatement. Excited was too. I had spent years fantasizing about a short barbershop haircut and now it had become reality.

Larry uncaped me and unwrapped the paper from my neck.

"A boy entered, and a man leaves!" he exclaimed, jokingly.

I thanked him, paid, and Brent and I left the store. The sensation of the sun and cool wind on my shorn head was something completely new.

Brent smiled as we walked to the car. "So do you love it? Because I love it." he said.

"I was nervous, but I think it looks good," I said, giddily trying to hide my excitement and reply nonchalantly.

We got into the car. Brent brought his strong hand to my jaw, turned my face to his and planted a kiss on my lips. I leaned in and returned it. "So while we were in there, I was thinking we could be buzz buddies. Come back here once a week and get fresh cuts, at least until championships?" he suggested. In that moment, I would’ve agreed with anything he’d said.

So, we did. We continued to date privately and we’d find ourselves at Larry’s every saturday. Soon enough, the championship game rolled around, and, as luck would have it, it was my team vs. the Tigers. I felt like I’d had deja vu, with it being the bottom of the ninth, my team up one, bases loaded, and Brent stepping up to the plate. The only difference from now and then is that both the pitcher and hitter sported tightly faded buzzcuts.

I read the catcher’s signals on the first two pitches, two perfectly delivered strikes. On the last, I remembered how our last meeting had ended. I watched the catchers signal and read it: curve ball. I looked at Brent’s face, we smirked at each other, knowing that, whoever won, the other would be happy too. I delivered a perfect curveball. Brent swung and missed. The game was over and the stadium erupted. My team had won.

My teammates rushed the field. One flipped off my cap and soon all the players were jumping, running their hands over my cropped buzzcut, and screaming. This went on for nearly five minutes, but soon we lined up to high five the other team. I was last in line for my team and Brent for his. When we finally met at the end. He didn’t high five me. He instead pulled me to him by his hips and delivered a kiss. The crowd went wild again. Wondering why, I looked up and saw that this kiss was on the big monitor in the outfield. We laughed and kissed again. I was touched by Brent’s courage to come out so publicly and knew that we would be together, and getting haircuts together, for life.

THE END

This is my second story on here, I kind of ran away with the romantic theme so I’m sorry if it’s too much. Let me know though.

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