It’s confession time. Hand on heart. I’m now talking to my new friends. The fantasy sporting community. And why? Because I feel a connection to you fine people.
I have lived, loved, and immersed myself in all fantasy sports, to the point where every game has become a statistical jumble of do’s and dont’s, good decisions and bad decisions; for 18 years my calendar has not revolved around spring, summer, winter and autumn, but instead the football seasons, the F1 seasons, the Major League Baseball seasons that overlap with and blur seamlessly into the American Football seasons. Those are my seasons now. This is my life. And I love it.
But that is not my sole confession, or even my main one.
The truth is, if I do not beat around the bush, and just tell you fans of Premier League football that I am a Wrexham fan. Cue the heckling from fellow Welsh supporters up the footballing chain, and from those who wonder what it must be like watching a game with only four thousand others.
Even that is not my true confession.
My true confession is that I am a proud Wrexham fan. Despite more highs than lows, and an 8 year absence from league football, I am Wrexham through and through. I bleed red. I need my club. And my club is my true home. It is where my heart is. And the pain I feel from time to time, does nothing more than intensify the feelings of elation when things go well.
We have been to Wembley three times, winning once. We have won at the Millennium Stadium. We have Arsenal, West Ham and Middlesbrough amongst our many FA Cup scalps.
But proudest of all, after previous owners (I won’t mention names for fear my head will explode with rage) ran down the club with intentions to sell the ground from under us, we have survived. But not only survived. We have flourished off the pitch, and we are patiently waiting for things to come good on it. And we have done so because we are owned and run by the fans.
We are in the truest, purest sense of the word, a community club and if this means five more years in the non-league, I will take it. WE OWN OUR OWN CLUB. It truly does not get any better than that. And WHEN we return to the football league where we belong, having done it on a small budget, we will be even prouder still. Because in order for us to make it, we will have to do what Leicester did. We will have to beat the odds. We will have to be a TEAM in every sense of the word. Working together. Battling together. Winning together. With eleven men attacking. Eleven defending. For 90 minutes. Giving everything, every single moment of every single game. And WHEN this happens, we will be like a thoroughbred set free after being trapped in the starting gate, a greyhound who just glimpsed a hair, a phoenix in flames about to rise and remind everyone that the Red and White Army are very real. We are hungry. And that we are coming for you.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.