AMWAT/1876

Let's just talk a bit about this.
There's a squad of 26ish players. 21 of them hail from Italy.
Those Italian lads are in digs up in Liverpool.
They train there, along with the Liverpool-based manager, plus the Liverpool-based non-Italian player/s also in the squad.
The 'owner' of the club is either from Liverpool or Italy, depending whether you believe the latest strange emanations from strange sources.
Once every two weeks, this whole shebang trundles down the A55 and plays for 95ish minutes at a ground overlooking the Menai Straits, in Bangor, in North Wales.
Then the whole shebang trundles back to L1 again.

The question is: what do you call the team?

Who do they represent?

What's the point?

On the other hand:
A squad of maybe 16 lads, 14 of them living within 30 minutes or less of the grounds they play on every week. The other two have been in the blue shirt before, in different circumstances, winning and losing and celebrating and licking wounds felt as deeply as any other local player, fan, manager.
They train locally, with their local-based and Welsh-speaking management team.
The owners hail from all over the UK; one share each. Each shareholder having a link, an affinity, a love, a historic bond with the city.
They trundle in from Bangor and Anglesey and Shropshire and Buckinghamshire and Scotland and Brighton and London and New Zealand, when they can, to stand on grass banks but stand together at that, trainers muddied as the team's boots are muddied.
95ish minutes later, and a pint or two maybe, they trundle home again.

What do you think of that team?

Who do they represent?


Some still don't get it, and probably never will. But our arms are wide - we ARE Bangor. It's us. Because when it becomes 'them' then that is the end.
The end of them.
Not of us.

That's the faith, says one of us, that we've kept. And he's right.