Is Wrexham’s soaring rise to prominence in any way a fairy tale? Or is it another example of financial doping, only played out much further down the footballing pyramid to what we’re used to?
Alas, in the tribalized world we now inhabit, it feels like it cannot be a combination of the two.
Certainly, the media have hitched their wagon to the fairy tale narrative, recognizing the public interest value in portraying two famous actors swooping in and transforming the fortunes of a struggling club as a feel-good story.
“It’s always sunny in Wrexham, where Hollywood takeover has breathed new life into community.”
That was the i newspaper’s recent take on proceedings, an angle that wouldn’t look out of place as a closing line in a Hans Christian Anderson fable that has a happy ending which sees the townspeople celebrate in song and merriment.
The Daily Mail meanwhile, marked Wrexham’s return to the football league with a gushing, lengthy headline claiming their promotion reminded us all that football really is the beautiful game.
Away from print, BT Sport have seemingly aired Wrexham’s fixtures on a weekly basis for two years now while the eight-part Disney+ docu-series Welcome To Wrexham awkwardly blurred the poverty that is prevalent in the town with the club’s new-found riches, in doing so insinuating the club’s residency at the summit of the National League has been an underdog success story that subverts meritocracy and the sports betting.
It has not been a deprived area, ignored for too long by successive governments, that topped Bromley, Barnet and the like. It was a club furnished with considerable fortunes.
And if Manchester City and Newcastle United are to be widely castigated for the financial advantage they purportedly hold over rivals who used to tower above them – a charge incidentally that is anything but clear-cut considering FFP and the vast resources of Manchester United et al – then surely the newly-minted Welsh outfit should be held to the same criteria?
After all, since their most unexpected of takeovers, Wrexham have bought players from two leagues above, while their wage budget is reportedly four times that of many others who dwell in the National League.
Via heavy investment - not to mention worldwide publicity that has made them a money-making machine - they have very quickly become a behemoth among minnows. Minnows that are the Wrexham of old, scraping by.
If this all screams double standards however, it’s only right to step back and take in the full picture, beyond how Wrexham’s transformation has been covered and instead purvey the reality of their surreal circumstance.
In 2004, Wrexham entered administration and were at death’s door until fans rallied around and brought the club back from the brink, forming a Supporters Trust that took over the ownership.
Stabilizing the books through sensible governance, these same fans then endured further seasons of hardship on the pitch, with this historic and great club exiting the league and languishing for 14 seasons in the fifth tier.
Like a great many clubs – too many to mention – Wrexham have unquestionably had a hard time of it.
Then, from absolutely nowhere and stretching the bounds of plausibility, Deadwood actor Ryan Reynolds and It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia star Rob McElhenney bought Wrexham in late 2020, instantly placing a ginormous spotlight on the Red Dragons. The rest, as they say, is history.
In the short period they have been at the helm, Wrexham’s commercial revenue has increased ten-fold while on the pitch Paul Mullin and co came within a hair’s breadth of securing promotion last term before redoubling their efforts and romping to 111 points this time out.
Before a ball has even been kicked, they are already favourites in the football betting to go up again next year too, so impressive has been the project undertaken.
Moreover, while significant improvements on and off the pitch are to be commended what should not be overlooked is how the spirit of the club has been rejuvenated, past all recognition.
Each and every week ten thousand plus have the Racecourse rocking. The club is buzzing. The town is buzzing. The fans who stayed loyal and present throughout the darkest of days are now residing in dreamland.
It would therefore be incredibly naïve to think the media would take a dim view of all this, to diminish Wrexham’s rise in the same manner they carp about Manchester City and Newcastle’s advantages.
We live in a cynical age and have a deeply cynical press. But there are limits.
Perhaps then, the proper and right way to regard Wrexham’s recent adventures in wonderland lies down the middle, as much as we’re not supposed to have two contrasting views given equal credence in this tribalized climate. It is a combination of fairy tale and financial doping.
The Hollywood glitz reviving a non-league club should be celebrated. How they’ve gone about it should also be heartily applauded.
But the end results, the glory and the promotions, is anything but a Hans Christian Anderson yarn. That’s inevitable.
*Credit for the photos in this article belongs to AP Photo*
