Wrath of the 'stache

You know, I thought the mustache of Indians manager Eric Wedge was proof that he didn't take himself too seriously. How you can go around wearing a Groucho Marx facial hairdo like that and not have a sense of humor about it is beyond me.
But then I logged onto www.shaveericwedge.com yesterday to find that Indians media relations man Bart Swain has apparently been acting as Wedge's henchman, trying to muscle Webmaster Matt Glassman into shutting the site down.
Wedge has apparently found no humor in the site, on which Glassman joshingly blames the Indians' slow start on Wedge's 'stache, and implores Wedge to shave it off. If he shaves the mustache and the Indians offense doesn't immediately pick up steam, Glassman says on the site he will pay for all of Wedge's facial hair care products for the remainder of the season.
In a written response to Wedge posted on the site, Glassman said the site is "not meant to be an offensive site" and says "we are your friends."
He did manage to get a dig in about the Indians offense, still the worst in the American League:
"The ironic part is that this site may be the only thing 'offensive' in the city of Cleveland; for the nine men that daily make up your batting order certainly haven't done a thing that could be even loosely labeled 'offensive.'"
Someone needs to tell Wedge the story of another mastermind coach in Cleveland's recent history. He came in with a smile on his face and a song in his heart, but soon began to take himself way too seriously. Within a couple of years, not only did he bristle at the slightest morsel of criticism, he began to eliminate people from the organization and playing field he perceived as threats. By the end of his tenure, his brain was so fried people began to question his mental state.
That coach was Butch Davis or Paul Silas. Take your pick.
Wedge is the manager of a Major League Baseball team. He deserves a high amount of respect. But it is good to temper the duties of your job with some humor, even if you're the butt of the joke.
No one will ever confuse Charlie Manuel with Billy Martin in the pantheon of managers. Martin was a little general, he won a World Series, he got into fist fights on the street, and sometimes in the dugout. Manuel is viewed as a country bumpkin with a rudimentary grasp of the English language. But Manuel has a great self-effacing sense of humor. He is still alive and loving life, even managing in Philadelphia. Martin had personal demons eat away at his mind and body until he died drunk in a car wreck.
Please, Wedge, your mustache is funny. If you're going to keep it, at least learn to laugh about it.