I’ve a confession, and it’s one which often shocks the individuals who know me. I’ve solely ever seen two episodes of It’s All the time Sunny In Philadelphia, and that quantity won’t ever develop past that. If I needed to really feel like I acquired yelled at for half an hour, I’ll examine in on my social media DMs which have been filtered out of my inbox or stroll into any bar in Wrigleyville and declare loudly that Pearl Jam sucks (which I don’t even actually imagine, however is enjoyable to do). So I’ve no familiarity with Rob McElhenney. Looks as if an honest sufficient man, who’s having a reasonably nice time doing what he needs to do.
So does Ryan Reynolds, and I like Deadpool. He behaves precisely like a man who has made one franchise that the majority everybody loves, has all the cash he’ll ever want and permits him to do solely issues he enjoys, and is married to one of the lovely ladies on the planet. Reynolds has been in his “I don’t give a fuck anymore” mode for some time, and might get by merely being Ryan Reynolds. “Free Man” was higher than it had any proper to be, although I’d most likely watch Jodie Comer learn the phonebook (despite being a bluenose). Extra energy to each of them.
Nonetheless, Welcome To Wrexham looks as if solely a car to indicate off what gregarious guys these two are, whereas solely pawing at what Wrexham AFC means to the tiny group that it calls house. A few of that is coloured by interviews that the 2 did earlier than the premiere the place McElhenney admitted that what he was most interested in was making a sports activities documentary. However Wrexham isn’t a toy, it’s not a prop. After listening to that, it’s onerous to take what the pair say about actually connecting to the membership and supporters fully severely, irrespective of how real they could appear.
Welcome To Wrexham will not be a present for soccer diehards. Which is ok, as there are many docs on the market for them if they need. The All Or Nothing sequence on Amazon may give followers a glance behind the scenes at massive golf equipment. If you’d like the large membership down on its luck story, there’s Sunderland Til I Die. That is clearly a narrative about two guys who do imply nicely, nearly actually getting in over their heads with one thing they don’t totally perceive.
Which is an effective story, and one we’ve seen a number of instances in fictional movies. However because the non-fictional present does exit of its strategy to level out, there are real-life penalties to this. The third episode spends quite a lot of time with Shaun Winter, a Wrexham resident, and fan who has just lately gone by a divorce and makes it very clear that the time he will get at The Racecourse Floor together with his sons is nearly the one factor that’s holding him going. Certain, each workforce has followers like this, however as we see by the tales of the man who runs the pub hooked up to the stadium or the aged girls having tea or different scenes, the purpose is that this membership, and soccer golf equipment typically, imply one thing extra to their followers. The present began with McElhenney speaking about how a lot Philly sports activities, particularly the Eagles, imply to him, after which is clearly making an attempt to display how Wrexham and its supporters are on a unique degree than that.
McElhenney and Reynolds know enough to know that they have to get promoted to the Football League and out of the English National League, and while there are references to their vision and plan, we never hear any of it. The season’s third episode spends a few minutes on the two securing Fleur Robinson as chief executive or Phil Parkinson as manager, without ever showing us what Reynolds and McElhenney told them to sell them to join a club that was a division or two below where they were working. Was it just working for celebrities? That’s fine, but it would be good to know.
We also see in the second episode how the pandemic season finished for the club, only a few months after the Hollywood duo took over. They lose the last game of the season to miss out on the National League playoffs and any chance of promotion. We learn at the end of the episode that the manager we just met and half the playing roster was let go after this game. But who made that call? Did McElhenney and Reynolds make that call? Were they simply advised to and rubber-stamped it from the people they had in place? They had to sign off on it, right? But we never see that, and it feels like we never see it because we can’t see Reynolds and McElhenney as the villain in the slightest. But we do see them agreeing to throw a very large amount of money, for the division Wrexham are in, at striker Paul Mullin merely off the suggestion from Twitter. Hey look, they really care what the fans want! But they don’t fire anyone. People just…lose their jobs. We’re really only getting one side of it.
That said, things start to turn a bit in episode four. Their first full season as owners starts, and we also get a glimpse of the dynamics of what their money does mean. On the one side, their celebrity does provide them an advantage, financially, over the rest of the division, and we see that at the team shop and how the two are using their social media following to get sponsorships and income that only they can provide.
Most intriguing, we see how contract dynamics play out within a team. We see four Wrexham teammates living as roommates, because they have to, and not exactly thrilled with the salary they are hearing that Paul Mullin makes. The next scene is Mullin in his much more comfortable home than they have, but explaining that he couldn’t be away from his family anymore and how much it means to him to get to live with them full-time now and why he took what was offered (and their delightful Scouse accents and Liverpool-supporting ways. Take that, Jodie!). It is a glimpse of how these things work in a dressing room, and if you think it’s just at this low level, you’re fooling yourself. That’s a story we don’t often get to see this vividly.
There’s also some hint from the fans, as Wrexham struggles out of the gate, that Reynolds’s and McElhenney’s charm-filled honeymoon will only last so long if it doesn’t translate to results. And the two acknowledge this freely. Still, the first portion of the episode focuses on the need to replace the field, and we’re supposed to feel sorry for these two having to shell out just north of $350,000 on it. That’s the job, kids, and we know you have it. The episode ends with Reynolds illustrating in a phone call with McElhenney just how much they didn’t know and how hard it’s been and why what they’re doing makes no sense.
Well, yeah. And the stakes are high for a lot of people. You don’t get vetted as a saint simply by showing up. This is a living, breathing thing. It requires a lot, and the supporters expect, demand even, that the owners put in the work. They don’t get extra points for discovering it was more than a guy’s weekend.
The show is at its best when it shows what being a fifth-division club truly is like for everyone in and around it. Hopefully, the rest of the season will spend less time trying to get us to like Reynolds and McElhenney more than we already do.