Because one fine morning, your boss may feel it's not enough to have just Darrel Hair and demand facial hair!
A fathead, disheveled boffin – jumping up and down Jolimont Street claiming to be Archimedes 2.0 – has concocted the outrageous hypothesis that .22 yard of undergrowth beneath your nose guarantees success on the 22 yards!
And it's just the tip of the iceberg. Shane Watsons and Mitchell Johnsons would vouch, worse can happen to you.
For instance, you can jolly well be plucked out of the nets and planted in dingy studios to strip down to the bare minimum and allow strange people scrub you and rub smelly ointments.
Enough to sow the seed of doubt that you are actually a 40-over old cherry, being polished for that dirty trick of reverse swing!
And the worst is not over yet.
Your boss then decides to immortalize your dishevelment and market the remnants of your modesty, capturing your embarrassment into calendars that would soon adorn the walls of girls' hostel and shady gay clubs across the nation.
So where were we? Yes, it's not easy being an Oz cricketer. Especially when your boss had attended the same morality school frequented by sleaze racketeers.
(Buy Men of Cricket Calendar 2010 here).