Passion, pride and poop: welcome to matchday at Wrexham

A corner, a free header. Goal. Delirium in the away end. Beside me, Humphrey Ker slumps in his seat. As Ker is 6'7, slumping in his seat takes some doing and isn’t very noticeable once he’s managed it. I feel for Ker. His promotion-chasing team is one-nil down at home to opposition in the relegation zone, opposition whose fans now regale the ground with a gleeful chant frequently heard in these parts nowadays: 

“You can stick your documentary up your arse!”   

Welcome to Wrexham, the fourth year of Project Hollywood. Since Rob McElhenney and Ryan Reynolds completed their purchase of the Welsh club in February 2021, Wrexham have won two successive promotions and are vying for a third, shooting from the National League to the brink of The Championship. Ker has played a central role in one of the most remarkable stories in sport, introducing McElhenney to football while the pair were working on the TV show Mythic Quest and being appointed the club’s executive director following the takeover. 

Look, I’m going to assume you know this stuff. You know Rob McElhenney from the blockbuster sitcom It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Ryan Reynolds as the foul-mouthed superhero Deadpool. You know that Ker met McElhenney through his wife Megan Ganz, a writer on Always Sunny and co-creator of Mythic Quest. You’ve probably watched Welcome to Wrexham, a documentary even more successful than the football team (eight Emmys and counting), each new season coinciding with the climax of its sporting equivalent – the fourth will premiere 15 May, its denouement as yet unwritten.  

I interviewed Ker last year and found him utterly charming. Everyone finds Ker utterly charming, from local fans to the New York Times. I hoped to write a follow-up piece about attending a Wrexham match together (maybe even with a cameo from the owners). Logistics proved tricky: Ker primarily lives in LA and work commitments have limited his attendance this season and caused him to take a less hands-on role as the club’s community director. He’s running a “wildly reluctant” Manchester marathon for the Wrexham Miners Project so the commitment is still very much there. (You can donate to the poor bugger here.) 

The Good Friday match against Bristol Rovers is finally settled upon. It’s a big ‘un: Wrexham a mere point ahead of Wycombe Wanderers, their primary rivals for an automatic promotion slot. On the train to Chester, I receive a text from Ker – apparently I’ll be with him in the boardroom. This is very exciting: the closest I’ve ever got to a boardroom is after-school detention. The previous week, I watched Lionel Messi play a home game for Inter Miami, another team under celebrity ownership. From the stands, I could just about see David Beckham and his family ensconced in one of the air-conditioned luxury suites down by the touchline. I don’t know if the Wrexham boardroom has air-con but I hope it’s sheltered: heavy drizzle awaits me in Chester. 

Rob McElhenney and Ryan Reynolds celebate with the National League trophy 

Sheltered Londoner confession: I had no idea Chester and Wrexham were so close, 15 minutes by train. Coverage from across the Atlantic can depict Wrexham as some farflung outcrop huddled the wrong side of yon mountain range, saddle a donkey and kiss your loved ones goodbye; in reality, the drive to the footballer-haven of Alderley Edge (past residents include Marcus Rashford, Cristiano Ronaldo and David Beckham) is roughly an hour, essentially the same time from Liverpool. Pre-takeover, I doubt the accessibility of Cheshire's golden triangle was a factor for the Wrexham squad but the financial goalposts have shifted in recent years – neatly encapsulated by the film crew interviewing fans outside the ground. 

Film crew aside, there’s little clue to Wrexham’s global fame. I half expected to encounter hordes of American tourists decanting from coaches to pose before a gigantic mural of Rob and Ryan, 500 cans of white paint used on their teeth alone, ain’t this soccer lark the darndest thing? Not so: the vast majority of attendees are Welsh, including everyone queuing outside The Turf pub, and there’s little trace of the celebrity ownership except perhaps the stadium being sponsored by a cold brew coffee brand from Colorado.  

I meet Ker outside the club shop. He’s wearing a three-piece tweed suit with bright pink lining, the most genteel of giants. Also in our party is Megan and Sampson Collins, a school-friend of Ker’s and maker of several award-winning sports documentaries. Entry into the ground is delayed by basically everyone we pass asking Ker for a selfie. “This always happens,” says Megan. She’s promptly approached by two Americans who profess themselves massive fans of her work – one of them even has a Community tattoo. Nobody recognises Sam but the previous evening Manchester United manager Ruben Amorim cited Sam’s Treble-reliving miniseries 99 as a direct inspiration for United’s remarkable Europa League comeback against Lyon.    

Wrexham have played at the Racecourse Ground – sorry, the STōK Racecourse – since 1864. In 2019 – pre-pandemic, pre-takeover – the average attendance was 5,000; last season it was 11,000, meaning every game was essentially a sellout. Work will soon commence on a new 5,500-capacity Kop stand that will include safe standing and upgraded hospitality areas. For now, the boardroom remains charmingly parish hall. There are roughly a dozen tables; the sign on ours says ‘Humphrey Ker x 4, Welsh Government x 4.’ You get a free programme, an open bar and a lunch of cod and chips. I hadn’t realised we’d be fed (idiot) and judiciously ate a sandwich beforehand; however the food is very good and I manage to power through.  

All 6'7 of Humphrey Ker from last year's Square Mile shoot. Tweed jacket sadly absent

Ross Ferguson

I get chatting to Sam, primarily about our respective jobs and football teams. (He’s Tottenham, I’m Crystal Palace.) Sam has watched Wrexham live several times since the takeover. He notes the increased expectation among the fanbase; any result but victory tends to be greeted with dissatisfaction. Of course the expectations of every fanbase increase with success – in sport, there’s nothing like the first time. When Wrexham won the National League, the open-top bus parade was celebrated by 40,000 fans, deliriously drowning in an afternoon that can never quite be replicated. 

Naturally, Sam finds his friend’s career trajectory rather surreal: comedy writer to director of a Welsh football club is a fairly untrodden path. However he isn’t remotely surprised that Ker has made such a success of Wrexham. “The thing about Humphrey is he genuinely cares,” says Sam. Megan later tells me that Ker describes his role at the club as “kissing hands and shaking babies”, which I like a lot.  

I get talking to the gentleman on my left. Julian is the honorary Welsh consul for Finland. There are three consuls on our table: Theo is Thailand and Nigel is Slovakia. They all have other jobs – being honorary consul is a side gig. “Why Wrexham invited us today I'm not sure!” says Julian. He’s a very good consul, explaining how Finland used to export timber to Wales and Wales sent coal the other way. “Nowadays it's fintech.” 

Like everyone I meet, Julian is a huge fan of the Wrexham project. “The improvement of the football club is brilliant for the town, it's brilliant for the region and it's brilliant for the country as a whole.” (Told you he was good.) “Sport is beneficial for society,” says Julian. Apparently his grandson plays for the junior Welsh cricket team so he understands this truth better than most. 

We’re looked after by a very lovely lady named Marian who flits between the tables like Wales’s most attentive grandmother. While I’ve succeeded in finishing the fish, the chocolate pudding is a course too far. Marian offers encouragement – “I hate to see food going to waste!” – but I sadly admit defeat. She asks the table if anyone wants the pudding and ultimately finds a willing recipient on another one. 

We head out to the seats. Bang on the halfway line and right beside the Bristol Rovers fans, assiduously informing us that Wrexham’s a shithole. We’re talking a matter of metres: a good arm and I could have nailed one with my chocolate pudding. Hence the Betty Buzz Suite (named after Blake Lively’s soda company), an elevated box which hosts the owners whenever they're in town. Rob is here today but the suite is on the other side of the pitch and I can't make him out through the mizzle. (So much for that cameo.)

Rob McElhenney watches a match from the Betty Buzz Suite

I make some comment on the remarkable changes since 2021. An elderly man in the row in-front overhears and taps my knee. “I've been going here since 1960. That young lad,” he points at Ker, “he's our hero.” 

Kickoff. Rain has transformed the pitch into a green ice rink, the players slipping and sliding everywhere. “It’s turned into a perfect day for football,” says Ker cheerfully.

“Sheep, sheep, sheep shaggers!” chant the Rovers fans. That must be a common one… “That's a very common one,” says Ker. “The other one is, ‘where were you when you were shit?’” 

The stadium experience is notably un-Americanised. No cheerleaders, no glitter guns. There’s talk of a tunnel club but Ker is skeptical. “I may be being a very old fashioned dweeb but I like that privacy for the players.” The advertising hoardings are a smorgasbord of local and international, Ifor Williams trailers and Barlows vans sitting alongside Aviation Gin and United Airlines. Do many locals fly United? “That's the power of the documentary,” says Ker. “They're not worried about the stadium. They want people to see it on the doc.” 

He's only attended eight or nine matches this season – work’s been hectic. He has written a Sherlock Holmes stage show, he and Megan are working on an American adaptation of Ludwig, the David Mitchell series about a crossword compiler turned police detective. Ker won’t be playing Ludwig: “we’re looking for a much-starrier name.” If only he knew some famous American actors with comedy pedigree… He chuckles and says nothing.

It’s a stodgy game. The Rovers goal is against the run of play but hardly a travesty. “Plenty of time,” says Ker after Wrexham go behind. “That said, I'd love to get one back right now.” I’m beginning to realise my fun outing is his life or death. As Sam says, he genuinely cares. A Rovers player goes swandiving in response to what appears a fair challenge. “That should've been a card, referee,” mutters Ker to nobody in particular. “That was a fucking dive and a half.”

Sam taps his friend on the shoulder. “How are you feeling?” 

“Shit,” grins Ker. “Stressed.”

It’s 0-1 at halftime. Ker disappears to do some promotional stuff for the Manchester marathon. I chat to Megan. She’s a keen runner and will tackle the marathon alongside Ker. For the moment, her primary concern is finding an equaliser. “When Humphrey was a fan of Liverpool and they lost, it ruined his day. Now if Wrexham lose it ruins his week. So as a wife, I'm invested!”

What was her reaction on first hearing about Wrexham? “I was more annoyed that he got to use Football Manager in a positive way…” When McElhenney expressed his desire to buy a football team, Ker used the FM database to narrow down potential candidates. “It was a thing in our marriage,” sighs Megan of the game. “A whole thing. I watched him play it on a flight from LA to London for 11 hours straight.” The Michigan-native has embraced Wrexham but the joys of FM remain alien to her. “It's spreadsheets! It's literally just spreadsheets.”

Wrexham apply a flurry of pressure early in the second half, prompting me into the absolute rookie mistake of claiming an equaliser looks inevitable. The team promptly lose all cohesion and start lumping the ball long. According to Ker, the general gameplan is keep it tight and take their chances: “the opposition goal keeper is never man of the match against us.” Others can research whether this statement is bald fact or fan hyperbole; however Wrexham’s 60 goals from 43 matches doesn’t scream liquid football. Promotion rivals Wycombe have scored 69; leaders Birmingham 73 from two fewer matches.   

Birmingham made headlines when legendary NFL quarterback Tom Brady became a minority owner in 2023. These days, no celebrity portfolio is complete without an unfashioned football league club. Last year, a consortium including Will Ferrell, Russell Crowe and Jordan Spieth invested in Leeds United. Another consortium led by the rapper A$AP Rocky is on the cusp of buying Tranmere Rovers. Will Rocky and his partner Rihanna become regulars at Prenton Park? I have my doubts. 

Going back to Birmingham, the Midlands club will soon release their own documentary on Amazon Prime, continuing a trend set by Welcome To Wrexham and also Take Me Home: Leeds United, All or Nothing: Manchester City / Arsenal / Tottenham Hotspur, We Are Newcastle United and Sunderland 'Til I Die – the Netflix series that supposedly inspired McElhenney to buy a football club in the first place. Just as every rich American needs a football club, every club needs its own fly-on-the-wall exposé, even if the walls in question are carefully vetted by the powers-that-be. 

Wrexham equalise! Matty James appears to control the ball with his arm but there’s no VAR so the celebrations won't be curtailed once he’s fired into the net. Ker leaps from his seat, uttering a primal roar like a Viking berserker who's just ransacked Savile Row. He kisses Megan and then wordlessly pulls me into a hug, more relieved than ecstatic. 

Fifteen minutes remain. Were this a TV show, Wrexham would grab a late winner – actually, underdogs Bristol Rovers would grab the winner – but the anticipated onslaught fails to materialise and the teams share a 1-1 draw. Wycombe leapfrog Wrexham into the automatic promotion spots. They lead by a point and Wrexham have the theoretically easier fixtures (although Rovers at home was meant to be the easiest). Ker is desperate to avoid a playoff dogfight; “I don’t think my nerves could take it. (Happily for his nerves, Wrexham will win their next match three days later while Wycombe lose at home to Charlton. Promotion #3 is back on.)  

Back to the boardroom for tea and biscuits. I say hello to Marian (she insists I take tea) and also Joan Bellis, hospitality host. Joan’s pink glasses match the lining of Ker’s suit. She’s been coming to Wrexham for 73 years and works on a voluntary basis for the pure love of it. “People moan and groan but they shouldn't be moaning and groaning,” Joan tells me. “People can forget.” 

Joan is a woman of many talents: she’s also involved with Bellis Brothers Ltd, an independent farm shop officially crowned the UK’s best for consecutive years. The likes of Joan and Marian are the lifeblood of any football club. There’s no better endorsement of Wrexham’s ownership than their obvious understanding of this essential truth, and if you assume this truth must be self-evident cast your gaze up the road in the direction of Manchester United. 

Ker must attend to some director business. I wish him luck for the marathon and the season, mentally promising myself that I’ll attend the playoff final should Wrexham end up there. More immediately, I head to The Turf, transformed by the documentary into one of the most famous pubs in the world but otherwise not much different to any footballing boozer. Think framed shirts, monochrome photographs, Deadpool illustrations – OK, the last one is quite unique. The vibes are cheerful, a pint costs less than a fiver. What's not to like?  

The Turf is ground zero for Wrexham FC. According to the green plaque on the outside wall: “It was on this site, the then Turf Tavern, that Wrexham Football Club was formed on 4th October 1864, when the Denbighshire Cricket Club Secretary Mr Edward Manners stated 'There is one thing, gentlemen, I wish to name – the great want of amusement in this town in the wintertime. It is my intention to purchase a football in the course of this week, and I shall expect a good many down to the field next Saturday.'” 

In recent years, the Turf has hosted the likes of Will Ferrell, Paul Rudd and Prince William. Today the most famous person I can spot is the comedian Mark Steel, sporting a burgundy trilby. We’ve never met but he’s a fellow Palace fan and once did a talk at my university: reason enough to say hello. Steel and his producer Carl are here researching for Mark Steel's in Town, a Radio 4 show where Steel visits towns across the UK and creates a stand-up show based the experience. Our conversation primarily concerns Palace’s upcoming FA Cup semifinal against Aston Villa but Steel is very amused by the chants from the Bristol Rovers fans and makes a record in his notebook. 

One final grace note remains for my visit. I encounter it outside the gents in the form of two visiting Americans, Steven and Mark. “Someone's shit on the toilet seat,” Steve tells me. “It's bad.” They've come over for the match and a trip to Goodison Park tomorrow. Steve visited Wrexham years ago but not the stadium. “There was no reason to before.” Sadly for Steve, Everton will lose to Manchester City but hopefully with minimal public defecation. “Why would somebody do that?” ponders Mark. Because pub. Because football. Because people. 

There’s something rather wonderful about the whole incident. Successive promotions, lucrative brand deals, Emmy-winning documentaries, Hollywood glamour, and someone still takes a dump all over your local's latrines. Hey, shit happens. Of course it’s totally harmless: the staff clean up with extreme efficiency and everyone sees the funny side. So, I suspect, would the owners, two men known to appreciate a touch of toilet humour; there's a celebrated episode of Always Sunny entitled ‘Who Pooped The Bed?’. 

Make no mistake: The Turf is the real deal. Likewise its football club. The only thing crazier than Wrexham's recent past promises to be its immediate future. It's been a hell of a story. It's only just getting started. 

Welcome To Wrexham S4 premieres on 15 May