Solihull Moors FC

Let’s #GetTheBadgeIn for Solihull Moors FC!

They’re one of the newest names in English football — a 2007 creation born from the merger of Moor Green and Solihull Borough. But while their name might be modern, their badge tells a much older story. One rooted in landed gentry, noble halls, and the long memory of a Midlands town that’s often kept to itself. At the centre of that badge is the head of a griffin — a creature that links Solihull Moors to centuries of local power and nobility.

The griffin, in heraldry, is a mythical beast with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle — representing strength, courage, and watchfulness. In Solihull's case it comes directly from the Aylesford family crest, a lineage that once held Malvern Hall in Solihull.

Malvern Hall still stands — an elegant Georgian estate not far from Solihull town centre (today it is home to

@SolihullPrep

- which also carry the Aylesford Griffens on their badge). The Manor began life under the Greswolde family in the late 17th century, local landowners in the area since the 13th Century. Yhrough marriage, the estate eventually passed into the hands of the Finch family — who would become the Earls of Aylesford. These were no minor nobles. Their influence stretched across the region, with other estates at Bickenhill, Packington, and beyond. In the days before Parliament had real power, the landed elite were the power. Their family coat of arms was a white shield with three black griffens.

You see it carved into stone lintels, painted on family standards, or printed in heavy volumes of peerage. And now you see it stitched into shirts at the Solihull ground, watching over a new kind of battle.

A symbol of continuity, even as the town around it changes.

And change it has. Solihull is often painted as a suburb of Birmingham, but that undersells its character. During the Industrial Revolution, while Birmingham exploded with factories, canals, and smoke-belching chimneys, Solihull remained largely untouched. It was a rural town, with a market, a church, and a cluster of well-to-do families. The railway arrived in the 19th century, and the town began to grow — but even then, it remained quiet. A place of grammar schools and country walks, not coal mines or steelworks.

It wasn’t until the Second World War that Solihull’s industrial side truly emerged. A “shadow factory” was built in the town to produce aircraft parts — a hidden contribution to the war effort. After the war, the site was taken over by Rover, and in 1948 the very first Land Rover rolled off the production line. That vehicle would become iconic, and Solihull became its home. What had been a genteel market town was now a hub of British engineering - a little late to the game, but arguably better off because of it.

You could say the same of Solihull Moors.

They arrived late, quietly, from necessity rather than ambition. Moor Green’s ground in Hall Green had been badly damaged by fire, and survival meant a merger with Solihull Borough. At first, they drew small crowds and flew under the radar. But year by year, they grew. Their facilities improved. Their fan base expanded. And before long, the Moors were marching up the football pyramid.

By the late 2010s, they were pushing for promotion to the Football League. In 2022, they reached the National League play-off final, only to lose narrowly to Grimsby Town. They were back again in 2024 but fell to Bromley on that occasion. It was heartbreak — but also proof. Proof that this young club, stitched together by necessity was now knocking at the door of the big leagues.

Solihull doesn’t make a lot of noise. It never has. It lets Birmingham shout while it builds. The same is true of the Moors. They’re not backed by huge money. They don’t sell out 20,000-seat stadiums. But they’ve got something else: roots. Identity. That griffin isn’t just here for show. It’s been here for centuries. On manor walls. In council chambers. Now on football kits.

It watches. It waits. And it builds.