​Tranmere Rovers: Falling Into Obscurity or Waking to a New Dawn?

It was the 77th minute at Wembley. David "Ned" Kelly, Irish international and perennial not-quite-Premiership-class journeyman, latched onto a flick and lashed a left-footed strike past Tim Flowers's near post. It was the League Cup final against Leicester City and Kelly had just made it 1-1. A sea of blue and white erupted behind the goal. Aged 13, I remember how overwhelmed I was by the sheer unlikeliness of it – after all, Tranmere were down to 10 men, Clint Hill having been sent off 17 minutes earlier. I recall to this day not knowing quite what to do, frozen amongst the euphoria, unsettled by these new unchartered levels of happiness. Leicester scored four minutes later, went on to win the cup, and any comic strip fantasies were swiftly put to rest. This was the year 2000; Robbie Williams' second album was about to come out, the Dome was getting slagged off in the papers and Tranmere – a team from the shitter side of the Mersey – could reach the Worthington Cup final.

A decade and a half ago, Birkenhead's sole football club specialised in a brand of giant killing and improbable cup runs that made them utterly captivating. They were a team that looked straight out of a Panini sticker album from a bygone era; managed by John Aldridge, the most successful post-war goalscorer in Britain but perhaps best known for losing his shit with a fourth official at USA '94. The team from one of the most deprived areas in the UK held their own in Division One and Prenton Park was a curiosity fortress across the country, a ground that people like Andy Gray eulogised about on Sky without really knowing where it was. David Challinor had the longest throw in the Football League, Arsene Wenger sent scouts to watch Jason Koumas and my-legs-will-give-you-one-more-season pros like Stuart Barlow and Paul Rideout dropped from Everton to Tranmere to stumble off into the sunset.

It was a team with true personality. But last month Tranmere Rovers dropped out of the Football League for the first time in 94 years. There was no fanfare, like a kid leaving school who you didn't ever know was in your class. Manager Micky Adams had left the club with just two games to go and survival still possible. Now, the club is staring in from the outside, cast off into the Conference, that unforgiving battleground of part-timers, lower league loanees and faded veterans.

The club has suffered two successive relegations. Over the 2014-2015 season Rovers went through three management regimes and 17 loan players, making it more or less impossible to retain or nurture any true identity. Gates averaged at 5,000. For a number of reasons the club has settled into a silent freefall through divisions, a decline represented by the change in kit sponsor. In 2013, Home Bargains was announced as the brand to adorn the white shirt, ending a 24-year partnership with Wirral Council. It was the longest serving sponsor in British football history. While not a catalyst, there's something undoubtedly symbolic about the switch in branding, the same way it's easy to look at Newcastle's clusterfuck of a season and think "well, they're sponsored by Wonga, what do you expect?" Home Bargains specialises in cheap, low quality goods, and over the past few seasons Tranmere's players proved the human equivalent: cheap multipacks of knock-off batteries that have just about kept the club's lights on.

In 2014 Ronnie Moore, managing the club for a second spell, was suspended and then sacked by the board after coming under investigation by the FA for breaching betting rules. He put a bet on for his sister-in-law for Tranmere to beat Colchester in the cup. They won – Moore took home £3.93, then lost his job, in what feels like a situation where surely someone should have said "ah fuck it, you know what, it's only four quid isn't it?" To complete the circle of misery, Moore was reappointed at Hartlepool United, who stayed up at Rovers' expense.

Tranmere Rovers and Birkenhead have always lived in the shadow of Liverpool and its hugely successful football clubs. Merseyside is not an affluent area but Birkenhead is particularly poor, with rates of child poverty above the national average. Once a world-renowned port town at the turn of the 20th century, it's been eaten alive by government cuts, economic depression and as a result, crime. Linked or not, there's an uncomfortable symmetry between the ever-increasing number of boarded up buildings and the quiet collapse of Tranmere Rovers. Everything just seems forgotten, even inside the ground. Rows of seats lie broken and unused. The scoreboard has stopped working. One fan tells me that "if the club goes out of business it'll have a massive impact on the area. The local economy, tourism and even just the wider knowledge of the existence of the Wirral would all be affected."

So what's next for a club that's suffered the ignominy of relegation out of the Football League? Many fans don't really seem to care about this; they see the drop in divisions as a chance for the entire club to rebuild, sick and tired of turning out for two hours on a Saturday searching for escape and finding only ennui.

"Sad as it is to drop out of the Football League, the past few season have been so incredibly bleak that it almost feels like a release," explains Rovers fan Liz. "We are in a good position in terms of ownership. Had we been in this position without them, it would be grim." Another fan named Tom cites tribalism as an important plus. "Everyone is looking forward to being in the same division as Chester, Wrexham and Southport," he says.

Mark Palios and his wife Nicola bought Tranmere in 2014 after previous owner Peter Johnson lost interest and stopped investing in the club. A Liverpudlian, Palios played for Tranmere for nine years; there's no doubt that the club means something to him. Like any savvy businessman, he's looking for ways to generate revenue. While Manchester United and Ed Woodward jet around the Far East inking commercial deals, Tranmere are organising comedy nights called "Wirral Laughin'" in the Belmont Suite at Prenton Park.

Season tickets for next year are already on sale and, despite the exit from the Football League, the numbers are better at this stage than they have been for the past five seasons. For many, supporting a football team is an addiction and you're more likely to put money in the fruit machine if you think you're going to get something back. Rovers fans are probably looking forward to seeing the team win for once, after spending so long watching hundreds of other supporters from provincial towns going apeshit in the away end.

I had a season ticket at Tranmere when I was a kid, before I moved away to the city to pursue real life. I followed their demise from a distance; detached but determined that they'd survive. When they were relegated I felt guilty, like finding out an estranged, mad relative had died. Maybe that's why I'm writing this. I saw Tranmere beat Everton 3-0 at Goodison, I saw them come back from 3-0 down to beat Southampton 4-3. I saw them beat Leeds and Bolton and I followed them to Wembley. I ate the terrible hot dogs, drank the awful tea and I smoked fags when it was still allowed in grounds. Without even realising it, these were some of the best days of my life.

And when I look at the Mad-Maxification of the Premier League and compare it with the gritty, narrow-focus realism of lower-league football I get this horrible, unshakeable feeling. It's like we're all falling in love with the wrong girl at the same time.