Death, taxes and hair loss—if you're lucky, you'll only have to deal with two.
Hair loss isn't certain as the Grim Reaper, and it doesn't swoop in swiftly like the IRS—but the numbers aren't in our favor.
Forty percent of men will experience hair loss by the age of 35, and the figures jump substantially from there. The key is accepting that you and many others will probably not make it to ripe old age with the lion's share of your flow intact.
Embracing hair loss sounds easy, but it isn't. You'll notice it in the mirror, pick some hair out of the drain and suddenly find yourself in a CVS thumbing a box of Rogaine.
This happens to the best of us, and while there's nothing wrong with raging against the dying of the follicles, some guys go to great lengths to revive, hide and disguise their molting hairlines.
These are athletes who have trouble hiding their balding. Some try harder than others, but they'd all probably be better served grabbing the clippers and finishing what Mother Nature started.
He started with a bonfire, dwindled down to embers and then just started throwing on the DuraFlames.
Wayne Rooney has been frank and forthcoming about his decision to undergo hair transplants, but so far, it appears all efforts to re-ginger-fy himself have failed.
If you didn't know better, you might assume that golf was invented by the balding, for the balding.
You can't not wear hats while playing on the tour. By not wearing at least a visor, you will have marked yourself as officially dangerous to the social fabric of the sport, and you will make everyone—including your sponsor—very uncomfortable.
The only reason to remove your hat in golf is to acknowledge applause and receive awards, which is why Tiger Woods and his thinning hairline were able to fly under the radar for so long.
The tracking of LeBron James' balding has developed into a science.
Everything short of tide tables have been implemented in the study of King Jame's hairline and its steady retreat to the rear lines of his skull.
Every year a quarter-inch of James' hair is eaten away by the unstoppable march of time, and it's become apparent that even the thickest of headbands can no longer mask its absence.
Peyton Manning doesn't care.
The man has little interest in aesthetics. It's about football. Everything's about football. Does he possess a forehead rivaling that of only Exeter himself? You're damn tootin', and he doesn't shy away from this hard truth.
That being said, rain or shine, Peyton is never one to neglect the sideline visor. He doesn't want any of that good flesh acreage to catch fire.
After spending years at Arsenal showing off the glorious Nile Delta on his forehead, Gervinho has taken to hiding his triangular swathe of baldness under a broad, sorority girl headband.
While effective in masking his naked slice of skin, Gervinho's headband doesn't appear to be a practical, all-weather garment. Between his long ropes of hair and his cloth band, Gervinho is liable to suffer heat stroke should a match go into extra minutes.
He went from carnival worker chop-bangs to Clark Kent in a year and a half—all thanks to the doctor.
Tired of wearing beanies and trucker hats, Wes Welker dealt with his thinning hair line the same way gramps did—advanced medical science.
Welker went in for hair transplants in 2012, and for the last 18 months has watched the fruits of his procedure blossom. He's not attempting to hide it, either. Welker will gladly tell you all about his new head of hair.
You'd think that Jason Terry would get along better with LeBron James, considering their shared love for follicle camouflage and hairline-by-extension gimmickry.
It came from outer space and did battle with Arnold in the swamp.
Of all the Predator locks we've seen in sports, Alex Tyus' were perhaps the closest to movie quality. While other players have full coverage dreadlocks, the former Gators forward's only sprouted from the sides and back. That's authenticity.*
*Tyus has since shaved his head and is now recognized as a terrestrial being.
This isn't a current bald assessment, but a forecast for the future. So I'll say this:
I love Johnny Manziel, but there's no way he's making it past 28 with that hair.
Lucky for him, by then he'll have a couple of Pro Bowls in the bag, millions of dollars and maybe a Super Bowl ring in the vault.
Or he'll be out of the league, sitting with a gaggle of coeds in the corner booth at "Johnny Football's"—the highest grossing bar in College Station. Either way, bald Johnny will make out just fine.
Stay strong, shave the scalp and embrace the skull cap.