I remember the exact moment that it truly clicked for me with Roberto De Zerbi.
It wasn’t that engaging first press conference, or the exciting 3-3 draw at Anfield in his first game in charge. Nor was it his epic first win as Brighton manager over Chelsea at the Amex Stadium.
Instead, it was that ignominious night last December when the Albion exited the League Cup to League One strugglers Charlton Athletic on penalties after a dismal 0-0 draw.
Brighton gave an attacking performance that was so frustrating it would even have made Graham Potter blush. This played out in front of a disproportionate amount of Brighton supporters at the Valley beyond the normal away capacity behind the goal.
Like many Seagulls fans, this meant I was allocated to take up a seat in the upper tier of the main stand along one side of the pitch.
It was an unusual view as an away fans. And from my seat in the middle of the upper tier, I was looking down upon the substitutes bench, overlooking De Zerbi as he paced the touchline emotively.
This was when I saw his bald spot. Not huge, but prominent enough to notice from overhead. I then jokingly turned to my brother (both of us men who are also follically challenged) and told him it endeared me even more to Albion’s Italian supremo.
It’s a little detail about him that most of the time wouldn’t be noticed. From the front Roberto has the classic ‘Italian Stallion’ thick dark head of hair. But from a certain angle, a blemish to this image appears.
He is a man who the great Pep Guardiola referred to as “one of the most influential managers in last 20 years.” It can be easy not to see figures like De Zerbi as real people, but instead more like fictional characters in a TV show.
But the reality is, however supremely successful people are in life and in however much high esteem they are held, we are all fallible, all mortal, and all have our own blemishes.
Seeing De Zerbi’s bald spot reminded me of the moment I often have when I go to the barbers. When at the end of the hair cut, the barber goes through the ceremony of showing me the back of my head in the mirror. And there it is staring back at me, my bald spot, in all its indignity.
I remember the sinking feeling of the moment that I first saw my bald spot. And the period of denial as it slowly grew and grew. To the extent that it is now less of an ignorable spot and instead an unignorable island at the crown of my head.
People take to this moment in life, one which is common among so many men, differently. Some in a drastic manner and just shave it all off, Bruno style. Whilst others cling on and look for ways they can hold onto their hair, like a certain Ashley Barnes.
In 2017, three years after he left the Seagulls, Barnes opened up about his hair transplant treatment saying: “I got a bit of banter from the lads. It never fazed me before, but when you see yourself get highlighted on Match Of The Day you get picked out for a certain something you notice it.”
“You see a little island and you think, ‘Woah, I didn’t think I was that bad.’ Then you start getting worried. I saw a photo of myself and I thought something needs to be done.”
So Barnes decided to get hair transplant treatment. He’s not the first man in football to undergo such treatment, and given the increasing scrutiny on all aspects of their lives, he likely won’t be the last.
I currently only have to be subjected to my balding head when I go to the barbers every so often. But as Barnes says, he was seeing himself appearing on one of the BBC’s flagship programmes every week.
My twin brother and I often make jokes about our shared experiences of hair loss, something that can make others who are less familiar with the topic uncomfortable. And given hair loss’s relatively trivial nature, it does surprise me how much of a taboo subject it is.
However, we didn’t always see it as lightheartedly as this. I remember my brother coming back from the barbers in a state of disgust having been not very subtly told that “silk pillows are a good way of slowing down hair loss”.
At that stage we were both still broadly in denial about our follicle challenge, but we soon learned to joke about it.
I’m lucky, both to have my brother to share in the hair loss experience and to have a wife who has always been sympathetic and never made me feel self self-conscious about it. But many others aren’t so lucky.
In a blog for the the website ManMatter.com, Rahul Gambhir wrote in 2020: “Male pattern baldness has been seen as a leading cause of depression in men.”
“And yet society is yet to grasp the level to which hair fall can be a source for depression. The process of going bald has many inaccurate associations which… compounds the feeling of anxiety and depression.”
We seem to live in an increasingly shallow society, one where image matters more than ever. Almost everyone in this country has a camera on their person to capture moments instantly, and then share them with the world on social media. So concerns over hair loss naturally mean that for many, photos are the last thing they want.
A close friend of mine had cancer in his late teens and as part of the treatment he lost his hair. It grew back, but not fully, and at an age when so much pressure is placed on appearance it must have been tough. But he took the cancer in his stride, has since recovered and hasn’t looked back.
However, his thinning hair and receded hairline are a lasting reminder of his treatment. Looking back, whilst our friendship group were always supportive, as teenage boys we likely could have been much more sensitive to his predicament. But he did joke about it openly with us, which he has later said helped to put things into perspective.
Us blokes tend to be terrible at talking to each other about the things that really matter. And I find joking about something that’s bothering me with my mates is the best way to lift the burden at times.
Whilst hair-loss is a fairly trivial issue in comparison to most other physical ailments, that so many are willing to pay thousands of pounds for hair loss treatment shows it means a lot to people.
If you’ve got the money for the treatment that is of course. There are cheaper options, I personally went through a period of using a well-known brand of caffeine shampoo that claims to reduce hair loss (probably nonsense of course).
Until that is, I decided mixing this additional caffeine dosage with my higher than average coffee intake and my families history of high blood pressure, was not a good idea.
Dr Max Pemberton wrote an article for the health website Patient about how baldness can affect people: “It’s so common, in fact, going bald could be considered a normal part of being male.”
“It’s actually more unusual not to go bald. Yet despite how common male pattern baldness is, it causes untold distress and anguish to men. It’s strongly associated with the development of depression, anxiety and poor self-image.”
Dr Pemberton went onto say that: “Men rarely discuss openly how much upset their hair loss is causing them. It’s a shameful secret.”
More people within football following Barnes’s example and opening up about their experiences of male pattern baldness could help to change attitudes, to normalise the subject and remove the taboo. It might even help more of them come across a bit more human too, rather than fictional characters in a TV show.
Personally, I’m relatively at peace with my hair loss, as much as is possible. But I will still get that awkward feeling every time my barber holds up the mirror to show me the back of my head.
Given what I’ve said, some may find my earlier reference to De Zerbi’s own hair loss a bit contrary to this compassionate attitude. But for me, openly addressing the taboo and the awkwardness of this subject has really helped me.
Ultimately, it’s just hair. As my friend found out after his cancer diagnosis, there are far more important things to worry about.
The more we talk about it and normalise it, the more we will break down the taboos that surround it. Ones that can be harmful to so many, of whatever standing in society.
Phil
