Tamworth, Mercians vs Romans: Tamworth FC vs Chester FC

Words: Tom Reed

Images: Tom Reed, Matt Jones.

All images shot on film.

Heroic Aethelflaed! great in martial fame,

A man in valour, woman though in name:

Thee warlike hosts, thee, nature too obey'd,

Conqu'ror o'er both, though born by sex a maid.

Chang'd be thy name, such honour triumphs bring.

A queen by title, but in deeds a king.

Heroes before the Mercian heroine quail'd:

Caesar himself to win such glory fail’d

Tamworth was once the centre of the great kingdom of Mercia but it was its queen that made the Midlands town great.

Aethelflaed “Lady of the Mercians” ruled alone after the death of her husband in the year 911, fortifying Warwick, Stafford, Runcorn, Bridgnorth and Tamworth and capturing Derby from the Danes.

“It’s a shit-hole mate” said a passing local as one of the plaques celebrating the glorious Mercian realm that brought prosperity to the region and defeated Vikings, was perused outside the train station.

There’s no time to contemplate what Aethelflaed would have made to the comment about her beloved Tamworth, as we are here for the football. If she was a fan of a pig’s bladder being booted about however, then she’d be proud of her townsfolk, currently 13 points clear at the top of the National League North.

Tamworth feels like it’s waiting for a return to the Mercian wonder days, it’s waiting for something to happen, anything even and the football team, known as “the Lambs” are beginning to gambol in spring.

©Tom Reed/ Terrace Edition. Tamworth Castle, once site to Queen Aethelflad’s fortification.

They need to as well, with a dank Saturday in the market town some 21 miles North-East of Birmingham.

It’s mainly quiet but there are queues for the fruit and veg stall on the market and “Spudman”, the Tik Tok craze for lining up to eat a hot potato that no-one can explain.

Spudman bought a boost to the town-centre that was surrounded by the Ventura out of town retail park and the Snowdome, serving that other little known craze for skiing, in this mainly flat area.

The football club used to be called Tamworth Castle and played at the “Jolly Sailor” ground, about as good a moniker as you’ll get but the Lambs moved into “The Lamb Ground” in 1934.

The ground was named after the Lamb Inn, which once stood where the club car park is, meaning there isn’t a boozer at the ground, without a walk through the underpasses back into the town.

©Tom Reed/ Terrace Edition. Tamworth FC vs Chester FC.

The club shop is open though, a shipping container that contains that rare beast; kits made by Italian terrace kings Kappa.

Outside, the steward who runs the car-park momentarily mistakes one of the coaches of travelling Chester FC fans as their actual team bus, but the shape of the people getting off suggests he’s wrong or that Tamworth are going to run rings around their opposition.

Thankfully, for the footballing spectacle, he’s mistaken but the Tamworth youth aren’t too bothered about the family coaches and more interested on teenagers their own age turning up with a bit of Burberry.

The Lambs fans are friendly and will talk to you about the history of the club, rising from the Birmingham District League to as high as mid-table in the Conference National in 2005, with ups and downs since.

They won the FA Vase in 1989, after 27,000 turned up to Wembley for a 1-1 draw with Sudbury Town followed by a 3-0 victory in the replayed final at London Road, Peterborough.

The Lambs team contained ex-Spurs forward Ian Moores, while on the bench, was a certain Paul Heaton, although it’s unlikely it was the frontman for The Beautiful South.

Like the Spudman mystique, few can really put their finger on why Tamworth are smashing the National League North by so many points from former Football League stalwarts Scunthorpe in second.

There’s momentum, for sure after, taking the Southern League Premier Division Central title last season, while manager Andy Peaks has created a hard working unit that thrives on the intimate atmosphere at the Lamb.

It’s noticeable how the silence of the surrounding streets turns to a hubbub as kick-off approaches. At work are a battalion of volunteers, selling 50-50 tickets, collecting the match balls and all number of small tasks which makes a club a club, rather than disparate group of players on a 3g playing surface.

Inside the bar, you can look out of the windows right onto the pitch, but most people are watching the Wolves vs Coventry match and booing and cheering dependent on their loyalties to local clubs. There’s plenty of West Brom, Villa and Birmingham City badges on display but it’s nice that they have still turned out to watch their local non-League club on a big day.

©Matt Jones/ Terrace Edition. Chester FC fans at Tamworth FC.

There’s a large turnout, 600 odd from Chester FC and no chance the people from the Roman City were going to let the Mercians have it their own way.

When fans moan about “suffering” they haven’t been born compared to Chester supporters, a club in one form or another that played for years in the Football League but never got higher than League 1, they’ve never been to Wembley and now the club from what the Romans called Deva, are playing in step two of non-League which is quite some achievement in reverse fortunes.

The Cestrians are, to a man, remarkably chipper, maybe it’s the Roman in them, always new lands to conquer.

In truth, the match isn’t up to much, Chester bring it and move the ball well from back to front but are Albert Steptoe level of toothless up front. Missing a Daryl Clare figure, some might say.

For Tamworth, the 0-0 draw was a useful point in their search for promotion, being so far ahead, sometimes it’s hard to keep pounding that pavement.

The lads in the shed kept singing throughout, their chants rising into the streets behind. There’s a large hole in the wall next to the turnstiles there, were you can see through to the pitch from the road. A woman looks on from the garden of her house for a few moments with a brew and a cigarette.

She’ll be watching National League football next season. Maybe she’ll go snowboarding tomorrow.

Aethelflaed can rest easy too, the Romans repelled, for now.