For political nerds, the revival of Wrexham AFC, under the ownership of Hollywood stars Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney, has eerie echoes of the history of New Labour. A historic organization, strongly connected to working-class communities, looks defeated and deflated. A clique of talented smoothies comes along and offers a better tomorrow. Tired of disappointment, the rank and file, the fans, are persuaded to back radical reform. Internal democracy is swapped for charismatic leadership, drab self-reliance for corporate funding. A couple of years later, the strategy seems vindicated: on a balmy spring evening, the organization enjoys a stunning victory. Things can only get better. And Wrexham, having beaten Borehamwood, could now rejoin the English Football League.
Wrexham’s era of common ownership was not a tale of endless humiliation
However, like Old Labour stalwarts in the 1990s, not all Wrexham supporters were starry-eyed about regime change. Wrexham is an earthy, egalitarian Welsh city with a historic suspicion of patronizing elites — hence its 58 percent support for Brexit in 2016. Given that fans had already rescued the club from property sharks in 2011, before re-founding it as a supporters’ trust, some were uneasy about handing it over to well-heeled actors from California. Now, two and a half years later, their fears are being realized.
As Neil Clark pointed out in the UK magazine earlier this month, one of the great draws of lower-league soccer has been its relative cheapness and ease of access. Yet, at Wrexham, such things are now the stuff of nostalgia. Via the club’s membership scheme, fans can now pay £30 ($38) a season for privileged access to merely trying to get a ticket; and most of those who try normally fail.
At 9 a.m. a few weeks ago, a long line of grizzled supporters could be seen in the club car park, patiently waiting for the ticket office to open an hour later. By 10:15 a.m., all but a handful were informed that the tickets had been sold to online purchasers and that remaining tickets were for “international supporters only.” For those turned away, it was small comfort to hear that new fans from Colorado were flying over to see their first-ever match. Or that Ryan Reynolds would soon be escorting Hugh Jackman into the directors’ box (hot on the heels of those other Wrexham diehards, Blake Lively and Will Ferrell).
Such disregard for lifelong supporters was just the latest sign that, after the success of their FX documentary, Reynolds and McElhenney were losing the knack of intelligent ownership. Back in July, while other English Football League clubs prepared sensibly for the new season, Wrexham jetted off to the US for glitzy fixtures against Chelsea and Manchester United — an expensive jolly facilitated by the owners, but one that did not seem to enthuse the team’s experienced manager, Phil Parkinson. The imperatives of branding, it seems, now trump the nitty-gritty of soccer management.
This transatlantic jaunt prompted outrage from the eco-lobby and was at odds with the zany-yet-progressive image Reynolds likes to burnish. Worse still, the matches were a footballing disaster. United, regarding Wrexham unworthy of their senior squad, fielded a youth team that included a rather clumsy goalkeeper. The gauche stopper duly inflicted a shocking injury upon striker Paul Mullin, thus denying Wrexham their talisman for the first month of the new season: a classic example, perhaps, of hubris and nemesis in lower-league soccer.
After a mixed start to the new campaign, with two wins in six league matches, it is no surprise that some are now questioning the rescue narrative routinely peddled by Wrexham’s owners. It is also worth recalling that, far from being a basket case prior to their arrival, Wrexham under its supporters’ trust amassed ninety-eight points in 2011-2012 and reached the promotion playoffs on a further two occasions. As such, Wrexham’s era of common ownership was not a tale of endless humiliation; and neither did promotion necessitate Hollywood saviors. Chesterfield, after all, was in the running for promotion last season, and was only denied it by a penalty shootout in the playoff final. Yet Chesterfield FC remains a community trust, proudly owned by locals, and in thrall to no one outside the town. So Reynolds et al had better enjoy themselves while they can. In the long season ahead, it may not always be sunny for Wrexham AFC fans.
This article was originally published on The Spectator’s UK website.
