Shrove Tuesday, the final day of Shrovetide, is marked by the commencement of a medieval football match. Its origin is uncertain, but thousands of people descend upon the Derbyshire market town on the day preceding Lent, a period of penance and sacrifice for Christians.
Folk football is an archaic form of association football, with a limited number of rules and an unlimited number of participants. Many of our country’s bruising and uncouth traditions were challenged by the power of the church and government, contributing to an eventual demise. Shrovetide football across the country was ended by the introduction of the Highway Act of 1835; an act that banned the playing of football on public roads. Yet places like Orkney, Workington and Ashbourne maintained their right to play. The latter has been well documented in recent years with the burgeoning interest in the oddity of our British calendar customs (see also: Bottle Kicking & Hare Pie Scrambling in Leicestershire, and the Cooper’s Hill Cheese Rolling and Wake in Gloucestershire).
“Before the end of the eighteenth century, authority was trying to suppress the custom on the grounds that it was dangerous, disgraceful to humanity and civilisation, and destructive of morals”.
From ‘A Year of Festivals: A Guide to British Calendar Customs’ by Geoffrey Palmer and Noel Lloyd.
The aforementioned Up’ards and Down’ards represent the two teams that take part in the football match. The Up’ards are those born north of the River Henmore, the watercourse that divides the town, and the Down’ards are born south of it. Today, people also choose sides based on familial associations. Clifton and Sturston, villages that bookend Ashbourne, house the goalposts for the Up’ards and Down’ards respectively. Across the 3-mile-wide pitch, the footballers propel the ball towards the opposition's goal using their hands (and occasionally feet), throwing and passing the ball over fences and fields, whilst traversing along the course of the Henmore.
Ashbourne’s footballs are significantly larger than the balls associated with the modern game and, instead of air, are filled with cork dust. Their composition makes them heavy, thus slowing the game to a brutal scrum. The exterior of each ball is brightly decorated and intricately detailed, with lettering and artwork honouring the crown, as well as goalscorers of yesteryear. Shrove Tuesday, the first of two days of football in Ashbourne, was played with a dark blue ball, covered in a Union Flag design. Other details included a painted illustration of a New Holland tractor and a Hereford bull, as well as crests for the local rugby and cricket clubs. These details are promptly smeared, and eventually lost, from the ball, as the struggle for possession returns it to its darkened leather form.
The car park in the centre of Ashbourne began to fill with spectators from midday. A couple of hours later it was full. Crowds of men pushed their way through the assembly, heading to the base of the plinth, from which the ball would soon be released.
His arms linked with players, as though being carried, John Tomlinson ‘turned the ball up’ in the car park. At the top of the steps, overlooking thousands, Tomlinson was present as the rules for the day were soberingly explained. There was to be an avoidance of places of worship and respect given to people's private property. Players were encouraged to look after themselves and others, though the official rules only require players to refrain from acts of murder and manslaughter.
“This is a local game…for local people!”
The Chair of the Royal Shrovetide Football Committee ironically beckons to the crowd.
Tomlinson joined in rousing renditions of the national anthem and ‘Auld Lang Syne’, before throwing the ball into the scrum. The shove ensued. Players rushed forth and onlookers back. The mass began to sway towards the western side of the town, the Down’ards claiming the early ball. It found itself squeezed through a narrow shopping concourse, pressed into the walls of buildings and against their windows, which had been crudely reinforced with wooden panels. The mass of bodies appeared to be all-consuming, evidenced by the destruction of large wooden planters in the town centre. Down’ard progress continued towards the Henmore; shortly thereafter the ball was being fought for in its course.
All positions, from which to see the river below, were taken by resting players and spectators. A vantage point from atop a brick wall, at the rear of The Bridge pub, gave the best view from which to watch. The crowd, with the ball somewhere inside, was paused. Steam rose from them like fog, with onlookers unsure of the ball’s location. Players stood on the elevated brick wall on the southern bank of the river, each discussing its possible whereabouts and the potential plays that could follow. Few would have anticipated the pause to Down’ards progress.
Periods of stillness, where very little appears to be happening to the onlooker, are followed by frenetic bursts of movement. The ball is torn from the grasp of the crowd, an individual player will do their best to evade outstretched arms by tossing the ball to a teammate, referred to as a ‘runner’. The runner trains throughout the year and develops a deep understanding of the area’s topography.
An Up’ard runner was on hand to divert the ball northwards. It was distributed under the bridge and exposed once again to eager spectators. Players were pushed up against the weathered brick of the bridge on Dig Street. Those who stayed out of the immediate action were required to balance on the narrow ledge of the bridge, whilst making half-hearted attempts at lifting the ball to street level. These players conceded in their efforts as the ball made a further northward move, disappearing underneath the car park from which it was first tossed.
The crowd, predicting success for the Up’ards, assembled in the park on the eastern side of the car park, a distance of approximately 400 metres from where the ball was last seen. Players assembled in the shallow Henmore, discussing the whereabouts of the ball as they peered into the darkness of a man-made channel, through which the brook has been controlled. For over an hour, no ball, or attached scrum, was visible. Players interacted with friends and family in the crowd, easing concerns that the ball may be lost, as had happened in the 2015 edition of the game. Eventual progress was made, once again, by the Up’ards, who barrelled out of the channel and into the open course of the river. Down’ard bodies, who had been strategically waiting for this to happen, jumped into the water to push back.
As the two forces once again resisted each other, the ball spurted out. It was carried northwards, the crowd made chase and players became frustrated as they found themselves impeded by spectators. As quickly as it went one way, it was carried in the opposite direction. At a widening of the Henmore Brook, players grappled for the ball. A decisive tear from the grip of a Down’ard player and the ball was tossed to an Up’ard, neck deep in the water, who began swimming; the cork ball buoyant, gently spinning as it was pushed with each stroke.
As the rules explain, if a goal is not scored by 6 pm, play restarts from the plinth in the car park. A new ball is tossed up to be contested. For the team that had conceded possession of the ball during the first portion of the game, this is a welcome reset. At this stage of the game, both teams are exhausted and operating with depleted numbers. The Up’ards were eventual winners (across both days of play). Shortly before 10 pm, the ball found itself at the Sturston Millstone, where Will Nash was nominated to score the goal.
“When a goal is scored the scorer is allowed to claim the ball immediately and a replacement is brought into use”.
From ‘A Year of Festivals: A Guide to British Calendar Customs’ by Geoffrey Palmer and Noel Lloyd.
The journey back into town ended with Nash, carried aloft, on the shoulders of his teammates at the Green Man pub. He smiled as he held the ball above his head, thrilled at a successful Shrove Tuesday, and brimming with excitement for more football on Ash Wednesday.
