‘He treated us like idiots’: the crypto mogul and a bitter battle over Bedford’s football clubs

Potential merger of Bedford Town and Real Bedford, led by an ambitious owner, causes rancour among fans who fear for the future. In the shadow of one of the UK’s largest abattoirs, a heady concoction of anger and apprehension hangs uneasily as a warning is delivered to those who fear their football club’s fate echoing that of the animals over the road.

“I fully appreciate there is a lot of passion running around the room tonight,” announces the evening’s master of ceremonies. “If there is any personal abuse, anything that is not tolerated, you will be warned, and we do have Tony and the team here to remove you if necessary.” Standing by the entrance door, two burly men in black overalls and security armbands give a nod. “Please remember to keep yourself dignified,” reiterates the host.

With every seat occupied inside the Bedford Town clubhouse, supporters line the walls, seeking answers at this specially arranged fans’ forum. Most are regulars, some for decades, colouring the room with the club’s distinctive royal blue worn as a pointedly outward display of devotion.

Scattered among them are a handful of Real Bedford diehards, identifiable by the club’s yellow and black paraphernalia on this foray across enemy lines. Bedford Town, known as the Eagles, have been playing at the Eyrie since 1993. Given the animosity between the two clubs’ supporters, on any other occasion the interlopers might be described as brave or foolish. But tonight foes have been brought together to hear the prospect of not only becoming friends but being adopted into the same family; two football clubs – unthinkably, in the eyes of many in attendance – merging into one, an initiative driven by Real Bedford’s co-owner and chairman, Peter McCormack.

For more than a century, Bedford Town have been the town’s dominant non-league force. Not even the incomparably close proximity of Real Bedford’s various predecessors prompted much concern. Since moving to their neighbouring sites on the town’s eastern outskirts three decades ago, with a shared fence and single line of trees separating their respective corner flags by barely 20 metres, natural sporting hierarchy dictated the two sides coexisted peacefully, largely occupying different footballing spheres. Then McCormack’s grand plans changed everything.

Bedford Town club memorabilia shows a prestigious history, including from when they took Arsenal to a replay in the third round of the FA Cup in 1956. It is a couple of weeks before the fans’ forum, and there is a hum of excitement in the Real Bedford clubhouse, where mismatched furniture evokes a ramshackle church function room.

There are two hours until table- topping Real Bedford kick off against Leverstock Green and the sound of heavy metal in the changing rooms provides a raucous backdrop to the hive of pre-match activity. The entrance to Real Bedford’s Ledger Stadium is just behind one of the stands of Bedford Town.

News of the potential merger between Bedford’s top two clubs has only recently emerged, hastily announced ahead of schedule after rumours began circulating. For fans of Real Bedford – a baby compared with their Bedford Town great-grandparent next door – there is general enthusiasm at the opportunity that lies ahead.

A black 4x4 pulls up and McCormack starts unloading crates of beer. An unexpected bumper crowd for the win over their title rivals Berkhamsted a few days earlier means the bar has run dry. McCormack’s official title is club chair but, frankly, he is Real Bedford. His black Rage Against the Machine hoodie helps explain the heavy metal in the clubhouse, the club’s skull and crossbones logo, and their Pirates nickname.

Real Bedford were founded in 2002 after a merger between Bedford United and US Valerio. McCormack is part of non-league football’s new wave which includes increasing numbers of celebrities, entrepreneurs, social media gurus and foreign investors throwing their weight – and cash – behind clubs. The catalyst for many was the success of the actors Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney, who have helped take Wrexham from the National League to the verge of the Championship, injecting some rarely seen glamour into the lower reaches of England’s football pyramid. Attendances in non-league’s top four tiers have risen more than three-quarters over the past decade.

Unlike his Hollywood counterparts, McCormack is local, Bedford born and bred. By his own admission he “knew nothing about non-league football” until this project. A university dropout – “the course was rubbish” – he worked as an advertising executive before launching and hosting a popular bitcoin podcast having first encountered the cryptocurrency to buy recreational drugs online, inauspicious beginnings that he is understandably keen on consigning to history.

His success allowed him to make a recent pivot as a counterculture interviewer. “I’m someone who dislikes authority,” he says. “I’m not a royalist, I hate the government, I hate bureaucracy.” It also provided a platform and the financial means to attempt an ambitious quest to buy a local club and take them into the Football League. “I thought: ‘I’m in this bitcoin world, why don’t I make us this freedom and liberty bitcoin club?’” he says. “A little bit punk, a little bit anarchist. We’re going to have a ‘fuck you’ attitude. It’s natural for me.”.