IN death, as in life, George Best is changing the face of British football. After a mixed response to the minute's silence held to commemorate his passing on Saturday, most of Sunday's games were preceded by a minute of applause.

So successful was the scheme that the Premier League's chief executive, Richard Scudamore, has suggested that clapping replaces silence as football's primary means of commemoration.

The shift has its merits. The disgraceful scenes at both Manchester City and Millwall, where chants from fans of Liverpool and Leeds brought the respective minute's silences to an abrupt end, would have been dampened had the home supporters been allowed to drown out the visitors' actions with applause.

But, while Scudamore's suggestion is sensible, it fails to address the burning issue that should lie at the heart of any discussion about footballing shows of respect.

Never mind how they are conducted, what about asking when they should take place. At the moment, there are far too many minutes of recognition. Consequently, the ones that should matter are being lost amidst all of the rest.

From the Asian tsunami to the passing of Best, football is being hijacked to satisfy society's current craving for public outpourings of grief.

The mourning for Princess Diana changed Britain's relationship with death and, since then, football has tried to move with the times by staging increasingly ostentatious displays of remembrance.

In the last two years, it has become something of a novelty if there is not a minute's silence before a game but, rather than marking the passing of its former stars, the sport is in danger of besmirching their memory.

If fans do not want to show their respect, it is pointless trying to make them. That might sound somewhat callous - especially given the genuine grief that accompanied Best's death - but it is a realistic assessment of everything that happened last weekend.

Clearly, Manchester United fans would have wanted an opportunity to mark Best's passing. The same is true of supporters of all his former clubs. But those demands could have been satisfied at a limited number of stadiums.

To demand a minute's silence, or indeed a minute's applause, at every football ground in the country is surely taking things a little too far.

A number of fans would undoubtedly have viewed Best as the greatest footballer that ever lived. But some would have seen him as an unreconstructed alcoholic who abused the second chance he was given. Neither side is more right than the other, but neither should be forced to adopt the opposite viewpoint.

And why stop at Best? Are we to mark the death of every footballer that lived, or just the ones that make it into arbitrary lists of the great and the good?

Shouldn't the whole of British football have mourned Brendan O'Connor, the Middlesbrough supporter stabbed to death while following his side's progress in the UEFA Cup?

There are times when a minute's silence is fitting. Surely no-one would be ignorant enough to ruin the hush that descends on Remembrance Day.

But while November 11 was once a rare date on which the whole of the country fell silent, now it is merely another occasion on which football claims to be showing its respect.

There is a time and a place for mourning and grief but, with a limited number of exceptions, that should not be the minutes that precede a football match. Perhaps Scudamore should ponder that before he next debates the issue.

Another recent tradition has been to celebrate the 'hard men' of sport. This too has been hijacked - the occasional bad tackle was enough to earn Vinnie Jones a kind of gangland cool - but, on Saturday, one of sport's genuine 'hard men' came to the fore.

It doesn't come much harder than National Hunt racing and, seven months ago, Mick Fitzgerald had it tougher than most.

When the horse he was riding fell at Market Rasen, Fitzgerald broke two bones in his neck. Had he moved any further on the floor, he would have been paralysed for life.

The injury underlined the perils that jockeys face every day of their working life but, rather than counting his blessings, the Irishman vowed the return to the saddle at the earliest opportunity.

For limited reward, Fitzgerald was desperate to continue laying his life on the line.

Last weekend, he partnered Trabolgan to victory in the Hennessy Cognac Gold Cup, one of jump racing's most prestigious races.

The success represented a remarkable triumph against adversity, but the best could still be to come. Trabolgan is due to run in the Cheltenham Gold Cup and there would be few more popular winners at the Festival in March.

Two wins out of three wasn't a bad return from England's Autumn rugby union internationals, but coach Andy Robinson has still been criticised for an overly conservative approach.

Yet while the backs may lack creativity, the strength of England's pack hints at better times ahead.

Get that right and the rest might follow.

While Jonny Wilkinson took the glory, it was the likes of Martin Johnson, Neil Back and Lawrence Dallaglio that laid much of the groundwork for 2003's World Cup win.