It was Monday 28th January 2019, I sat dejected on a shabby old chair in the makeshift canteen, with a steak pie on my plate that looked equally as fed up as I did.
The pie had been on sale to supporters two days before, so perhaps the journey from the concourse to my plate had been equally as gruelling as my commute down the M6 that morning.
There was a stillness in the room, with only the clanking of knives and forks preventing an awkward silence. We were teammates, friends, but nobody made an effort to conjure up any form of small talk to cloak the lack of gusto that day. Optimism was low and pessimism was high, a disastrous combination for a team 18th in League Two, and facing its third relegation battle in as many years.
Despite low morale, there remained a mutual determination to turn the tide, but by that point, the negativity had ingrained itself into the DNA, with the long-running uncertainty that surrounded the club’s financial status highly culpable.
The haggard pitch of Vale Park lay over my right shoulder, the wounds of ugly fourth tier battles clearly visible upon the wintry surface. It was the centre circle that caught my attention. That season, the toxic atmosphere meant that the centre of the pitch often felt like a lonely place particularly upon the full-time whistle when groans of vexation would often ring: the bottled up frustrations on the terraces pouring out.
Across the grass and in the distance, the yellow and white seats that fill the Railway Paddock looked weathered, presumably from the torrent of abuse that they had absorbed over the years. In the middle section of the stand, supporters had draped black and gold scarves over the hand rails, to constantly remind us of their discontent towards the owner.
I decided to sit for a while, mentally reeling through the ups and downs of my fourteen year association with the football club.
I had seen promotions and administration. Pitch invasions and protests. The success of Micky Adams and the struggles of Jim Gannon. Throughout those moments there had always been solidarity between the owner, players and fans, but that day in the canteen felt different. Solidarity wasn’t a word that I could have used in the same sentence.
A draw at Newport County two days later marked a dismal run of just one win in thirteen games. It was another dour display, and in my opinion, the club had reached its nadir.
Something had to change.
Following that draw at Rodney Parade, Neil Aspin resigned with immediate effect and I also decided it was time to walk away.
Looking at where the club is today, it is staggering to think that I drove away from Vale Park with not only a concern for my own future, but a fear for the future of the football club’s existence. I left it at its lowest point, spiralling towards administration under Norman Smurthwaite, along with a disgruntled fan-base and a group of players that had lost faith in its leadership.
It was staring down the barrel of insolvency; now it is thriving again, united, alive, dreaming of promotion; the transformation of Port Vale Football Club has been remarkable.
The saviour came in the form of Carol Shanahan. Since rescuing the club from financial ruin last May, she has been the driving force behind a tectonic cultural shift in which the core values have been refreshed.
Port Vale has evolved into a community oriented football club, that promotes unity and cohesion, standing in stark contrast to the one of yesterday’s era.
As we speak over the phone, her easy-going affability shines through. There is a refreshing authenticity in the way that she communicates. It is clear that she is passionate about the vision, and has a genuine appreciation for the position that she holds, but she is not there for the limelight that many others seek, it is her love for the club that drives her on.
It is easy to see why the media, supporters, and players have all managed to form healthy, working relationships.
It was a huge difference to the autocratic leadership style that I had experienced under previous ownership. We were made to feel trivial back then, but showing an appreciation for the players is something that Carol has consciously addressed.
They are now given freshly-cooked meals by an established chef, rather than the microwaved leftovers from the match day kiosk.
Today there is a genuine care, and Carol believes that building a relationship with each player is absolutely key, something that many others eschew from due to their limited shelf life:
“One thing that horrifies me in the football industry is how players are almost treated as a commodity. They are like meat. It is completely depersonalising. I don’t mean everywhere, but certainly in some football clubs.“
“Here, we value our players, and we can see that we get that back from them. We want to make playing for Port Vale a positive experience. The players have to have high standards, they have to train well, play well and do everything that is asked of them, but they will be well looked after.”
From the moment that Carol stood in front of the media at her first press conference, the grey cloud that loomed overhead seemed to part. Supporters began to rally round, there was a genuine belief again.
Somehow, John Askey and Carol Shanahan managed to rejuvenate the players and instil confidence into the dressing room; an ingredient that had been sparse in previous years:
“It was almost like having a different squad with the same people,” Carol said.
“All the same players had been playing, but they’d been playing with their heads down for so long, there was no cohesion,”.
She added, “Things had really started to go wrong under Neil at the end, fans were becoming more and more fractious, and the whole lot just wasn’t right.”
She laughed for a second, pausing to reminisce about her time as a fan, following the team around the country with her husband Kevin. Highs, lows; sun, rain; they were there.
“We used to joke at half time, ‘I really hope that Neil is introducing the players to each other, because the way they are playing they look like they don’t know who each other are.”
“The players didn’t know where they stood, or why they’d been picked, or what they were there for. Whereas now, we have a really strong group. I knew that John was going to be people-based in the same way that we were.”
The installation of 1500 seats into the Lorne Street Stand earlier this month marked the final upgrade in what has been a revolution.
Everything now feels complete. For Carol, it is the perfect way to mark her one year anniversary as owner, and more importantly, celebrate the fantastic work that has been done to piece back together the broken heart of the Burslem community; Port Vale Football Club.
