From Ponciau Banks to the Racecourse

I stood and clapped.

I was proud.

I was proud to be there.

It was emotional because the team in front of us had just been beaten. Knocked out of the UEFA Women's Champions League. They thought they had failed. The fans, however, wouldn't let them think that. We, as a collective, kept clapping and cheering. These women had done us proud.

It might be the end of their European journey for this year, but I genuinely believe it's only the beginning. This team has already come so far, but I don't think we've seen anywhere near its full potential yet.

I only went to Ponciau Banks once after the relaunch of Wrexham Women. If I'm honest, it didn't grab me. That wasn't the players' fault. It was the whole matchday experience. Parking was difficult, there were next to no facilities and, by the end, it had taken me ages to clean my trainers after trudging through the mud. I admired the loyal supporters who turned up every week. Some of them are still following the team today, travelling all over the country.

If I'm honest, there was another reason I started taking a greater interest in the women's team.

Lili Jones.

I'm a close friend of her late dad and close to all of the family. Every time Lili pulls on a Wrexham shirt, I can't help but think of him. When the crowd sing "She's one of our own," it always gets me.

I wish he could have seen it. I know exactly how proud he would have been watching his daughter playing for her hometown club and representing Wales in Europe.

Moments like that remind you that football is about far more than results.

The move to The Rock changed that completely.

It didn't just give the team a better home. It gave supporters, photographers and the media a better experience too. Parking still wasn't perfect, but if you respected the local residents, you could always find somewhere nearby. It was a short walk to the ground and, once you arrived, there was a real sense that something was beginning to grow.

One thing I immediately noticed was how relaxed it felt. The media were made to feel welcome. Photographers chatted, supporters mixed together and everyone seemed to be pulling in the same direction. That's something quite special, and I hope it never changes.

Wrexham were renting the venue and the owner wasn't really looking after the place, but it was still a huge upgrade on the old setup. Then came another statement of intent. Wrexham AFC purchased The Rock and have continued investing in the facilities ever since.

As I write this, I'm told there are only seven grounds in the country dedicated exclusively to the women's game.

The investment didn't stop with the ground. Every transfer window seemed to bring another quality signing. Every season the squad became stronger. Everything the club had invested in—the ground, the players and the belief—led to this moment.

Wrexham were champions of Wales and, for the first time in the club's history, were representing Wales in the UEFA Women's Champions League.

The first hurdle was Armenian champions Pyunik Yerevan. It was a remarkable European debut. Wrexham produced an attacking display full of confidence and belief, winning 4–2 at the Racecourse to record the club's first-ever victory in the UEFA Women's Champions League.

History had been made.

And somehow, it felt perfectly normal.

Waiting in the next round were Latvian champions Riga FC Women. It was another step up in quality and European experience. Wrexham battled throughout but eventually bowed out 4–1. The scoreline was harsh on a side playing only its second-ever European match. They competed. They learned. They represented Wrexham and Wales with pride.

As the final whistle blew, there were tears.

Not because they had fallen short.

But because they cared.

The applause that echoed around the Racecourse wasn't for a defeat.

It was for a journey.

A journey that started on a muddy pitch at Ponciau Banks, grew through the welcoming surroundings of The Rock and reached a European night under the lights of the Racecourse Ground.

As I walked away from the Racecourse, I realised I was still smiling.

Not because Wrexham had won.

But because I'd just watched another chapter in the story of a team that refuses to stand still.

It's strange really.

The biggest games in this team's history came before most clubs had even started pre-season.

Most teams were still talking about fitness, new signings and friendlies.

Wrexham Women were playing in the UEFA Women's Champions League.

That says everything about how far this team has come.

From muddy pitches at Ponciau Banks to European nights at the Racecourse.

From a handful of loyal supporters to thousands cheering them on.

From a dream to a European victory.

This team keeps taking the next step.

And somehow, I don't think this story has reached its best chapter yet.

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As organisations grow, many quite rightly invest in their own social media. They employ media managers, photographers and videographers whose job is to promote what they do. That's exactly as it should be.

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But social media doesn't work quite as simply as many people think.

If a football club posts on Facebook, the majority of people seeing that post already follow the club. If a charity posts an update, most of the engagement comes from people who already support that charity. The same applies to bands, venues and community groups. You're often talking to an audience that has already chosen to listen.

Independent media reaches different people.

Someone might follow me because of football but end up discovering a local band. Another person might be interested in live music and suddenly find themselves reading about a charity fundraiser. Others come for community stories and leave knowing more about local sport. That's where independent media has real value. It connects audiences that official channels often can't.

Over the years, my pages have generated a great following and getting well over two million views a month. Those views didn't happen because I was competing with organisations. They happened because I was sharing their stories with people who may never have seen them otherwise.

Of course, it doesn't always work like that.

I've turned up at events where I've been actively discouraged from taking photographs. On one occasion, I wasn't allowed in with my camera, yet afterwards there was no problem using pictures I'd taken on my phone. To me, that misses the point completely.

Independent media isn't there to make anyone look bad. It's there to help tell their story.

It has to be a two-way street.

Social media is constantly changing. Every week I receive updates explaining how the different platforms now work, what content they are rewarding and how audiences are changing. What performs well on Facebook won't necessarily work on Instagram. TikTok has different priorities again. YouTube has its own algorithms. Because of that, I constantly adapt my own strategy, changing the way I create and publish content to give every story the best possible chance of reaching new audiences.

That's why I've never seen independent media as being in opposition to official media. The two should work together. Official media speaks to the loyal supporters. Independent media introduces new people to the story.

Sadly, only a handful of organisations, businesses and charities really use independent media to its full potential. Many assume that having their own social media manager is enough. In reality, the biggest opportunity is often reaching the people who don't already follow you. That's where independent media comes in.

I've never wanted to replace anyone's media team. I've always wanted to complement it.

So, if you've got an event, a gig, a charity fundraiser, a sporting fixture or anything else you want to shout about, and you want maximum exposure before, during and after the event, just send us a message.

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VAR is like politics.

It creates apathy because you feel like you can do nothing about it.

You sit there watching events unfold in front of you, knowing decisions are being made that you have absolutely no power to change.

While politicians sit around a cabinet table in Westminster drinking wine and deciding w…

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