About seven years ago, I began looking for documentary projects to shoot near the Midlands of England. I wanted something exciting. I wanted to give myself the kind of project I’d dream of being hired for. A project that felt like a throwback to a more wild time in photography. That’s when I discovered Shrovetide Football, a 900 or so year old game of football/rugby played throughout an entire town. I was sold. This was going to be my photo essay.
As it turned out, there were a few of these games throughout the UK. A small one on the Orkney Islands, a truly insane one in Atherstone. Additionally, probably the biggest is just down the road from my hometown in Ashbourne.
Photo Essay Adventure Begins
So one cold February morning, I set off for Ashbourne. I had a very basic setup, a Nikon FM, a 50mm lens, and about seven rolls of Kodak Colorplus. Additionally, a backpack containing a bottle of water and a chicken and bacon sandwich (my first big error).
Was I really ready for what was in store? No.
Shrovetide football is supposed to have been played since the 12th century. Your team is decided by which side of the river you live on. Before the game starts, the two teams gather at their respective pubs. That’s where I first got to see some action.
This was definitely a challenging thing to shoot. I have never shot a big event before, and I’d put myself into a situation where I had no idea what to expect. At the same time, I didn’t really have any time to think about it.
Once the Braveheart-esq speeches were over, everyone headed to the plinth in the middle of a carpark in town. This was where the ball was ‘turned-up’.
It’s All About Where You Stand
Inexplicably, I’d decided that a good spot to position myself would be right in the crowd. Basically, about 20 feet from the plinth. I was surrounded by hundreds of locals wearing torn jumpers, rugby shirts, and wellys.
I looked around to see other photographers about 100 feet away, standing on walls and holding telephoto lenses. That’s not proper photography, I thought.
Every year, someone different throws the ball from a platform, and that starts the game. Once the game starts, that’s it until 8 pm, so complete darkness in February.
I already knew that, I had that knowledge, but I hadn’t yet experienced it. I hadn’t yet felt the incredible force of ‘the hug’.
As the ball was flung into the sky for the first time, I immediately felt the massive power of all the players hurling themselves towards it. I took two pictures and then my camera felt like it was jammed. Surely not, surely I haven’t planned for this for months, and now my bloody camera is broken.
I was able to figure out that I’d accidentally locked my shutter in the frenzy, in a brief moment of calm. In that moment, I quickly turned a switch, and my camera was back up and running.
I had no power, I was going wherever the crowd was going, and I just shot whatever I could. Some people were swearing at me, but most were so focused on the ball that I wasn’t even thought of.
Chicken Sandwich, a Casualty of My Photo Essay
After what seemed like forever, I finally found a way out of the crowd and took stock for a minute. I hadn’t broken any bones, the sandwich in my backpack was now pancake adjacent and somehow, my camera was still in one piece.
Now I’d had a little taste of what Shrovetide was about, I realised that shooting it effectively would be a challenge. I’d need to be close enough to see the ball, see the craziness, but not so close that I couldn’t see anything at all or had no time to focus.
Don’t get me wrong, I know why people use long lenses for this kind of stuff, it’s much easier to pick things out from a safe distance but that is not my style. I don’t mind using a long lens for stylistic reasons, but personally, I’d much rather get amongst it and near the end of my day, that seriously paid off.
Learning the Flow
I started to understand the ebb and flow of a game of Shrovetide Football, sometimes the ball could be in ‘the hug’ for an hour. This was essentially where a group of around 50 men were gathered around the ball, heaving and pushing to get it out of the opponent’s grasp. Players had learned techniques over the years to protect the ball or to win it back but to the onlookers, this could be a pretty boring period.
Then, all of a sudden everything happens all at once, people are running through peoples garden, down the river, climbing over walls and jumping over hedges.
As we headed into the afternoon, the ball was near the riverbank when I saw it break free and a few players sprint down the river. I was one of the first on the scene, I walked along a narrow wall towards the carnage when all of a sudden I slipped. I was preparing for a soggy landing in the Henmore Brook when I felt a giant hand grab my collar and pull me back up onto the ledge.
A Friendly Competition
There was a strangely friendly atmosphere, there was so much aggression and intensity in the game but ultimately it was about respect too. These people would still have to bump into one another in the local butchers, so it’s not a complete free for all.
After being saved by a local, I made my way further along and onto the riverbank where hardly anyone else had made it to. It was just me overlooking ‘the hug’. Maybe around 40 men grappling and shoving while I just waited. All of my settings were ready, my focus was locked in, I just had to be patient.
Then, everything happened all at once.
And I ended up with one of my best photographs of the photo essay and one of my best to this day.
I think I could go to Shrovetide for 10 years in a row and never get a picture quite like this again.
That 50mm lens that was causing me hassle at the start suddenly came good when I needed it most.
And all the old fellas with their telephotos were still halfway down the river, missing the moment of the day.
Become Part of What You are Capturing
More than anything, that day I learned that you’ve got to be in it to win it. You’ve got to put yourself in the right spots, take yourself to the event, set yourself the project, or else you’ll never give yourself the chance to get these kinds of shots.
And these photographs tell the story of this event. They gave me a deeper insight into something I’d never even heard about before. I witnessed a unique game that only exists because of tradition. You could never start this game in this day and age. However, because it’s been played for so long, you can’t take it away from the locals.
Capturing History and Tradition with a Photo Essay
Although some people might think these traditions are dangerous, I think they’re essential to British culture. So many things are taken away because of regulations but still, many traditions are intact.
The locals know the rules, they know how to keep safe, they know the dangers.
I hope despite viral Instagram reels which inevitably only show the carnage of the game, this can continue indefinitely.
And on that note, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my time at The Shrovetide Football. If you’re thinking about going yourself, you’d better be ready for what’s waiting for you.
