Welcome to Wrexham (Disney+) tells the story of how Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney, internet friends and Hollywood stars with seemingly little knowledge of football – but a clear enthusiasm for sport in general – bought Wrexham AFC in early 2021. With their goal of getting Wrexham – the oldest club in Wales and the third-oldest continually operating professional team in the world – promoted from the fifth tier of English football, the series has the hallmarks of a fish-out-of-water documentary, a Ted Lasso in real life, but it turns out to be a more soulful series than that, once it gets over its bumpy landing.
Based on the opener of the 18 zippy episodes (five of which were available for preview), I had low hopes. It places much of its early focus on McElhenney and his English colleague Humphrey Ker, a comedian, screenwriter and actor turned “Rob and Ryan’s guy” at the club. There is only a smattering of Reynolds, who is more camera-shy than might be expected. McElhenney, who admits he needed “superhero-movie-star money” to buy the club, appears to be the driving force behind the deal.
The series is clearly aimed at an American audience, with much made of the strangeness of the situation. The pitch is referred to as the field; the league system is explained by way of a comparison with the minor league baseball team the Toledo Mud Hens. Anyone who has a whiff of an accent that isn’t home counties gets subtitles. I thought subtitling Welsh people speaking English in a documentary about a Welsh team was a bit inconsiderate, but at least it affords the honour to anyone English who grew up north of the Watford Gap, too.
Once it gets its Football for Dummies shtick – and its compulsion to explain what words such as “sacked” mean – out of the way, it improves enormously. McElhenney and Reynolds might be the names above the marquee, but it evolves into a touching and inspiring documentary about an ordinary town that is down on its luck and could do with a lift.
One of the questions asked of the two actors at the start is: “Why Wrexham?” Although there isn’t one satisfactory answer to that, McElhenney offers his working-class upbringing as a point of recognition and empathy. “Even though I’ve never been there, it reminds me of Philadelphia,” he says.
The documentary was planned before the takeover was completed, so there are cameras there at every step of the way. Reynolds and McElhenney are self-deprecating and funny. They obviously care. There is an excruciating scene as Ker introduces himself to the squad, admitting that he is a TV writer and that this is the extent of his qualifications to be the club’s “executive director”. Never has a room full of men looked less impressed.
Unsurprisingly, the footage has been put together with Hollywood pomp. Matches are given the high-tension treatment, with dramatic music, slow-motion shots and cliffhangers. It is hard not to be gripped by it. I suspect it will be all the more effective on people, like me, who have not followed Wrexham’s journey closely in the past two years.
Reynolds and McElhenney offered financial support and hope when they bought the club. They know that their fame can make Wrexham famous on a much larger scale. They bring in big-name sponsors and turn their social media spotlight on to the team. For example, while it is vague on the details, they make it possible for the grass on the pitch to be replaced at great – and unexpected – expense. In the words of Shaun Harvey, an adviser to the board, they have to “utilise that celebrity asset” – and they do.
That seems to be the case with this series, which is a game of two halves. I am sure that everyone involved is aware of the compromise. But it is at its best when it steps away from its star power and focuses on the town, the players and the supporters. I could have spent hours in the Turf Hotel, a pub right at the gates of the Racecourse Ground, watching and listening to the supporters whose lives are built around the club.
People talk about illness, money, family, the impact of Covid and lockdowns. One man speaks about the breakdown of his relationship with the mother of his sons and his frustrations at his repetitive job as a painter-decorator for the council: “There’s got to be something more to life than this.” A woman opens up about the fear of coming off disability benefits and entering full-time work again. Football unites them all. These stories are bigger than the stars, even if the stars have to be there to invite in the viewers.
