It was a week in which football moved from the back pages to the front and then to centre. A week in which web pages buzzed and the gossip in the office was all on the same topic. You could hear it on trains and buses; whispered in libraries and debated loudly in pubs; spoken of in reverent tones as young lovers nestled between the sheets. Even our local vicar was moved to mention it in his sermon on Sunday (not that I was there to hear it, of course). "And, lo, verily the word went out that David Beckham was to grow a beard. And the Lord looked and he saw that it was good". I have always suspected that the early 21st Century finds us as a Nation with too much time on its hands. Now I am certain.

Still, my thoughts immediately turned to a TV programme that I had seen some years back. This tedious half hour had been devoted to a 'look alike' agency and I sat, open mouthed and speechless, as a succession of talentless Elton John, Brad Pitt and Jack Nicholson duplicates aped the mannerisms of their more famous and more talented doppelgangers. Highlight - and I use the word loosely - was a whole team of David Beckham's. Wearing numbers 1 to 11, we witnessed Beckham passing to Beckham and onto Beckham before Beckham miss-hit a shot for Beckham to save. Of course, the main attraction for the gathered throng at Blagg Acres was to laugh at the obvious fact that, barring one lad, ten of the Beckham's bore no resemblance to the midfield maestro beyond the fact that they had the same colour hair and sported the look of the younger Beckham at the time; a fey, foppy, floppy fringe just like our England hero. Still, you have to take it where you find it and this team of 'clones' were all lined up for a plethora of fete openings, bar mitzvahs and weddings. Fame, of a sort, beckoned. Or should that be Beckhamed?

So, can you imagine how it must have felt to be Brian from Catford last Saturday morning? A David Beckham look-alike and fixed up with work for the next six months, you stumble from your bed and pad downstairs to pour yourself a bowl of Frosties. You sit down on the settee, open up The Sun and - SMASH! - milk everywhere, as the bearded chin of your alter ego stares back at you and you suddenly find yourself unemployed - at least until you can grow your own face fungus. Life can be cruel.

Anyway, this little tale of 'hair today, gone tomorrow' leads me nicely to a letter I received years back when this site was called the ‘Ironworks’; it was from a fellow Hammer drawing my attention to an article that had completely escaped my attention. Under the heading ' We are Bristle Rovers ' (No, really!) the article goes on to describe the 'Beard boys of football ' (look - what's so funny?) The article, naturally, attempts to put together a 'best ever bearded XI' and I'm proud to be able to report that at long last the Hammers lead the way in the league. We had four ex-players (count 'em) in the hair-bear squad. Two dyed-in-the-wool Hammers. One who became one of our own and… well, another one.

First up was ‘buccaneering’ (Thank you Brian Moore) Billy Bonds; magnificent beard and hair blowing in the wind and if you throw in the time he wore a bandage or bandanna to good effect then he quite rightly becomes Captain. Next was the real Frank Lampard. Not for Mr Snr a pose, shirt off, oiled and hairless so he could run faster. No, here was a man with a wild growth on his chin and an equally wild barnet to match. Magnificent! Next came the wonderful David Cross. His hair was shorter but his beard was luxuriant and, looking rangy and slightly scary, the beard was even more pronounced.

But it was the fourth Hammer that really stole the whole show; a man to whom all the others could only genuflect. You see the other ‘weird beard’ was the one and only 'Deadly' Derek Hales. Now I know many of you…errr…’younger’ readers won’t know who Hales was. He didn’t have many glory years with West Ham and even those of you who are happy to read up on former players may find he has slipped under your radar. So let me explain:

Derek Hales was the only man I know who could actually grow a beard during a match; he allegedly shaved with a blowtorch. He was a useless striker who scored hundreds of goals at Charlton, none at Derby when purchased by them for a king’s ransom, none with us when we bought him from Derby slightly cheaply and then hundreds back at Charlton when we offloaded him back over the river. The rumour was that Billy Bonds was so glad to see the back of him he actually hired a car to make sure he got back through the Blackwall Tunnel ok. After, It dawned on everyone that Hales actually scored the goals laid on a plate by his strike partner at Charlton, Mike Flanagan.

Reunited for a second time, Flanagan and Hales were immortalised when they actually fought together during a televised match when both were playing for Charlton, the referee had to book them both, and then sent Hales off! Flanagan, as a result, went off to Q.P.R. where he laid on goals for Clive Allen - how could a couple called Flanagan and Allen not get goals? - and Hales, somewhat unsurprisingly, stopped scoring again.

Now Younger readers may think I’m being economical with the truth here but I swear I was actually at the old Highfield Road ground in Coventry when a clean shaven Hales started the match and, by the time the final whistle blew, he looked like Old Father Time. I’m not able to show you the post-match picture of Hales but I do have a link to the man in his Charlton days when he was quite tidy, so you can see for yourself. (http://www.footyfotos.co.uk/charltonfiles/killer.htm)

Hales was quoted as saying after his retirement: "It's a shame you don't see beards in football any more. Perhaps players don't want the weight of a beard - mine used to weigh a few pounds!" Well that would explain Deadly's lack of speed in the penalty area then. Perhaps if Johnny Ayris had grown one then he might have prolonged his playing career. By the way, last time I heard Derek was working in a chemical factory so I'd appreciate it if you didn't give out my address.

So there you have it. Coming to the end of his glorious career, Mr. Posh's mature look can only be a good move as he contemplates a life on the catwalk, in movies and TV. If nothing else, if the ‘Beard boys of football’ article is ever resurrected then the nomadic Beckham will almost certainly be its star player. He may not have ever been a West Ham fan but the lad from Leytonstone has finally realised what many of us have known for years; real footballers have hair all over the place. Just ask Derek's missus…..

Ever played football with a stupid haircut? Send your photos to billyblagg@hotmail.com . Best one gets a bottle of Chateau Blagg ’76 in time for Christmas..