Just Grow It.
You know, Red Sox hotshot Andrew Miller gets a lot of ink about his hair. Jesus, they call him, and the Mountain Man. Whatever. All we know is if Bert Mayer threw a decent fastball, he'd have it all over Mr. Miller. Look at the dude! There are curls and spikes, and seriously, there could be a small mammal starting a nice family in his beard.
The hairy look does happen to run in Bert's family. His dad, an audio engineer, sported an impressive goatee when Bert was a tyke. It made an impression. By the time Bert was a sophomore at Hampshire Regional High School in Western Massachusetts, he’d grown his own goatee. "I have hair!" he declared. "I am a man!" He had heard that legend has it that if you shave, the hair will grow in thicker. Bert shaved. It didn't grow in thicker. He shaved again. Zip. And again. Nothing. But by the time he was a freshman studying film at the Massachusetts College of Art, he could grow a mustache. At the age of 22, his cheeks grew in. We're talking full beard here. Around that time, he stumbled onto the netherworld of beard competitions, a subculture of Fu Manchu, musketeer, imperial partial, and freestyle facial hair styles. Bert thought (stroking his beard, of course). Why not? He walked into a contest in Somerville with a handlebar mustache accented by four spikes. He walked out with a trophy.
Now Bert prides himself as the founder and president of the Boston Beard Bureau, a group of 20 men and women who meet monthly to discuss cool styles, nifty hair gels, and how to make bank at the next competition. They are looking for more members — no facial hair necessary, Bert insists. (There's a fake beard category that is gender-neutral.) His family has even gotten into the act: his dad entered with his infamous goatee, his mother with a crocheted beard, and his aunt took home second prize with a beard made of bottle caps. Andrew Miller? Are you game?
www.BostonBeards.org