MACCLESFIELD TOWN

‘We’re the Macc Lads, we were born in a pub, we like us ale and we like us grub.’

THE MACC LADS – punk band, 50% music 50% mayhem

‘The Pride of Cheshire.’

DWAYNE ‘THE ROCK’ JOHNSON

Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson did actually say that about Macclesfield Town. He does actually support them. During an appearance on the once-glorious Soccer AM on Sky Sports, he was assigned them as his English team. Seeming to grasp the whole idea of fan culture, he really got into it, and he still sends them messages of support before big games.

I would give anything to see Dwayne go pint for pint with the Macc Lads after a match, but only if I didn’t have to be up early in the morning. Me and early don’t get on. I have no issue with, say, 6 a.m., as such. It’s only doing its job. After all, without 6 a.m. there’d be no 10 a.m. to have your morning tea and toast at.*

Sometimes I positively love 6 a.m. There used to be a pub in Edinburgh, called the Penny Black, that opened at that hour to serve postal workers coming off the night shift. In that terrible dry hour between Fringe venue bars closing and the Penny Black opening, I was a big fan of 6 a.m.

Also, despite having the Londoner’s innate sense of superiority, I have no issue with places in the rest of the country. They are mainly lovely, and without them, we would have nowhere to feel superior about. I do, however, have an issue with Macclesfield at 6 a.m., especially if it also involved waking up in Manchester at 4 a.m.

I was there for Match of the Day to travel on a coach with Macclesfield fans down to a cup game at Chelsea. Because meeting them when they got off the coach in London would obviously have been too simple. Nobody is at their best at 6 a.m.,† but the lads and lasses I was travelling down with were bright, funny, enthusiastic and very hospitable.

Plus there was the consolation of the best bacon roll I have ever had. I still dream of it sometimes. It was basically about four inches of salty goodness with a crusty bap clinging on for dear life at each end, slathered with actual butter, dotted with ketchup so thick you could stand a spoon in it. The only downside was that I still didn’t have room for the gorgeous free food in the Stamford Bridge press room when the game finished some nine hours later.

Of course, Macclesfield got hammered by the soft southern millionaires, but they didn’t seem to mind. They also didn’t seem to mind when the Stamford Bridge PA announcer patronised them dreadfully before the game. As he announced the Chelsea team, he also announced the country each of them played for, pointing out that, of course, he wouldn’t be able to do that with the Macclesfield side. Then he wished them a pleasant visit to the capital, but wondered why there were so many of them here when their home crowds were so small. It was crass, and I was glad to hear from my coach crew that many Chelsea fans had apologised to them.

I’ve been thinking of that crew a lot lately. The club is in massive financial trouble and there is every chance it may not even exist when you read this. And, just as at Bury, it will be entirely through the fault of an irresponsible owner and the complicity of the useless EFL that those dedicated fans will have lost the club they love.

Macclesfield Town was born out of an unlikely amalgamation between an army regiment’s football team and a cricket club’s football team getting together to play rugby. The 8th Cheshire Rifle Volunteers joined with the Olympic Cricket Club in 1876 and made the sensible decision to swap rugby for football a couple of years after. At the time there were about 120 silk mills in the town, and they have been known as ‘the Silkmen’ from the start, which is either a rather romantic sort of name or sounds like an alien race from Dr Who, depending on what sort of mood I’m in.

‘Dr, it’s the Silkmen!’

‘Quick, into the Tardis while we think of a half-arsed late plot twist to foil them.’

Irresponsible business people have dogged the club throughout its history. It was liquidated and re-formed a few times in the early years and in 1946 only survived after local residents donated money and enough ration coupons to get a new kit. And they helped fix up the dilapidated old Moss Rose, the stadium they still play in (assuming, please God, that they have negotiated the financial crisis).

It was as a thank you to those locals that Macclesfield FC changed its name to Macclesfield Town.

In 1975, back in financial trouble again, they agreed to change their blue kit to black and amber for a season, those being the colours of a local business who paid them handsomely for it. Perhaps they would agree to play in skimpy black trunks if The Rock paid them handsomely enough. God knows, they need the money.

And in 2005, under the ownership of Amar Alkhadi, the FA fined them £62,000 and made them repay a £195,000 grant because of financial irregularities. He is still at the club and the finances are still irregular. He hasn’t been seen at the ground for years, communicates with staff by WhatsApp and blames Brexit for his recent failure to pay wages to the players and manager, or tax to HMRC. Macclesfield Town currently face three winding-up petitions from all three of those.

It’s never seemed fair to me that clubs like Macclesfield are allowed to struggle while just up the road are clubs whose prawn sandwich budget for the year could save them, but I’m not a businessman. Just someone whose heart sinks at the thought of those amiable fans having nowhere to go at 6 a.m. in the morning.

Why You Shouldn’t Support Them

■ Too nice. They should have invaded the pitch and stuck that PA announcer’s mic where the sun don’t shine.

■ I’m really jealous of those bacon sandwiches.

■ Have you seen the price of silk?