“ALMOST CUT MY HAIR, HAPPENED JUST THE OTHER DAY” –
DAVID CROSBY
Last week, I was playing pickleball in the Rockaway Pickleball and Golf, and I got paired up with a young woman who complimented me on my very long hair. I had never met her before, and we played a few games together. My hair was shoulder length at the time, after going haircut free for a year as I always do. That afternoon, I got my yearly crewcut and the next morning I headed to Rockaway Pickleball again. Once again, I was paired up with the same young woman on the court. She said “Hello, John” to me. Hmm, let me play with her and hit this soft pitch out of the park I thought. So I replied, “Do you know me? My name is not John, I don’t think we ever met.” She looked confused so I said, “Oh you mean John with the long hair. That’s my twin brother.”
She was relieved, she thought she was going crazy. After a good shot that was similar to a shot I made yesterday with her, I told her, “My brother taught me that shot.” At the end of the game, I confessed, and we got a laugh out of it. She shouldn’t feel bad though, my computer which uses facial recognition instead of a password doesn’t recognize me anymore either. So much for AI.
Growing up in the early 1960s was an interesting time for men. All men either were bald, had a crew cut, or looked like a military man with their hair short. Also, they wore suits to baseball games, airports and out to dinner. They also wore fedoras, which was a classy hat, probably because their haircuts sucked. Then with the Beatles, things began to change. Their hair wasn’t that long when they first appeared on the scene compared to what was to come, but it was different enough to upset parents and administrators in the entire western world. Of course, the kids saw it as a way of rebellion and the battle was on.
I remember in the late sixties, an older kid in the neighborhood, Ricky Fitzpatrick, who was an excellent basketball player, was told by his coach to get a haircut or he was off the team. He stood his ground, which impressed me greatly. He didn’t play that year. Another time I was with my older brother, Teddy, at his friends’ house and his father was yelling at him about getting a haircut when he pointed out that Jesus Christ had long hair. Teddy was a cop in 1970, and he wore a “short hair” wig to hide his long hair.
Of course, growing up I pushed the limits when all of my heroes were rock and roll stars. Besides music, sports were my other passion. Sport stars back then were pretty strait-laced and no one in baseball had long hair. Until Joe Pepitone became the first baseball player to have a hair dryer in the Yankee locker room. As a matter of fact, he opened up a hair salon for men across the street from Kings Plaza. Mickey Mantle just didn’t understand. But he had his own problems.
Unfortunately, my hippie days had to end when I was sworn into the New York City police department in 1981. As a cop I pushed the limit as best I could. Until my lieutenant called me aside and told me the captain was asking him when Sica was going to get a haircut. The lieutenant was almost apologetic, he liked me and we were drinking buddies. I told him don’t worry. I went out on patrol and stopped in a barber shop on Church Avenue and asked for a crew cut. The locals who hang out in the shop all day got a good laugh watching me lose all that hair in my uniform.
I found a solution one day while hanging out on the beach in Rockaway when I ran into a cop I used to work with. His hair was long and he had a nice beard mustache combination. I asked him if he retired and he laughed. He told me he was working in the Narcotics Division. Three months later, I was in Narcotics and my haircut days were over.
After the police department, I eventually moved to Puerto Rico for most of the year. I would let my hair grow all year and cut it once in May, just before I came to Rockaway for the summer. Like Church Avenue, the tiny barbershop on Puerto Rico was a local hang out. The locals played dominos in there while they listened to Spanish music on an eight-track player. “Daddy” is the name of the owner; he is in his mid-eighties and wears a bad toupee. Once he cut me and I asked him if he had a band aid. Guess? Nope. The local domino players also got a kick out of me cutting off all that hair and walking out bleeding. Daddy retired this year which is why I ended up getting it cut in Rockaway in between my pickleball matches.
When I get it cut, it’s such an extreme change that I get a lot of reactions from people. At first when people react, I am the one confused because I don’t see myself and I forget that I look so different. The first few times I shower after the haircut, I pour out the shampoo and realize I am using 10 times more than I need. Eventually I adjust. With all the shampoo I am saving, maybe I can afford a haircut more often.
