Suzanne Beishon reviews ‘The Red Lion’, which is at the Dorfman Theatre, National Theatre until 30 September 2015.

Photo Katie Brady (Creative Commons)

Photo Katie Brady (Creative Commons)   (Click to enlarge: opens in new window)

“It’s a business, and nothing I know in this world will stop it.” – A line that could be taken from any comment piece that has appeared in recent weeks about the depth of corruption in football’s governing body, Fifa. Instead it’s from timely new play ‘the Red Lion’.

Writer Patrick Marber returns to the National Theatre after a long absence with a beautiful three-man show set in the desperate, passionate and quasi-religious world of a non-league football club.

Need to belong

Located entirely in the club’s beautifully crafted high-ceilinged dank changing room – whose single-glazed ventilated windows with stained walls reminded me of my old school gym – Marber’s play is less about football and more about needing to belong.

The curtain rises to reveal an overweight elderly man lovingly strapping an ironing board to the players’ rickety treatment table and caressingly decreasing the sparkling clean team shirts that look out of place in the unkempt surroundings.

Kit-man John “the Lege” Yates (Peter Wight) is a loyal former player and failed manager of the Lions, motivated by his love for the game and his club.

Alongside him, Daniel Mays plays fast-talking hotshot chancer-manager, Jimmy Kidd, who is looking for his fast break into the big time while juggling debts and a troubled family life.

Waxing lyrically throughout – sometimes a little too much – the two men are united in their love of football and their belief in the abilities of wayward teenager, “the new Messi” Jordan, played by athletic young actor Calvin Demba.

However it quickly becomes evident that even at this level, the trio aren’t immune to the pressures that penetrate clubs of every division. Money, drugs and dodgy-dealing agents circle in on the desperate threesome who have found their surrogate family and worth in the beleaguered club.

‘Biscuit spreadsheet’

When even a “biscuit spreadsheet” to take advantage of the referees’ preferred tea accompaniment is used to give “the incremental edge” it’s clear that the system is failing these desperate clubs and individuals.

Superb and authentic performances from the top cast, with strutting Mays the highlight, this really isn’t one to be missed.

The first half is a passionate and loving tribute to football at its base, where volunteers and the community are the lifeblood of football clubs.

The echelons of global football continue to sanctimoniously decry the unfolding Fifa scandal and lay out their alternative reform agendas.

But they would do well to watch a play like this that, particularly in its second half, is a sad indictment of what modern football has done to the grassroots.