Being an Ipswich boy whose family mostly comes from Felixstowe, I've avoided doing a #GetTheBadgeIn for the Seasiders, mostly because I've wanted to do them justice and not rush it, as there is a huge history and heritage behind both towns. Another reason has been that the current badge is actually quite a tricky one as a launch pad. It clearly symbolises the coming together of the two teams into one... and little else. So, a while back I did create a sort of tongue-in-cheek, AI-powered alternative badge concept, as there was so much history to draw on. This sleepy little coastal town (which can nonetheless boast the best Wimpy and best independent bookshop in the country) has a history that will blow your mind. From memory there was... Roman settlements, St Felix bringing Christianity, Walton Castle, the Orwell as a regrouping area for the English fleet during the Spanish Armada, Landguard Fort fighting off the Dutch in what was the last foreign landing on our shores, turning into a prosperous Victorian holiday destination, the development of seaplanes, and then the establishment of the modern cargo container terminals, turning it into Britain's biggest container port and, essentially, a logistical node that feeds and clothes most of the country. And I'm sure there is plenty more too. Oh - the German Kaiser stayed there once, and the Suffragettes blew up a holiday house overlooking the shore which belonged to a politician... Anything else? I'm sure there is. So, as you can see, there is a whole lot of heritage on which one could draw when designing a kit. A simple handshake emoji always seemed a little underwhelming. A future logo design that a) could honour some of this and b) show those heritage-massacring Maldon and Tiptree owners how a proper rebrand is done would be most welcome. But. For the time being, then, let's work with what we have in the current badge and dive a little deeper into a patch of land in the south-east corner of Suffolk with an extraordinary history. Let's #GetTheBadgeIn for Felixstowe and Walton FC... Currently fighting it out in the Isthmian League North Division (in effect, Division 8 of the English pyramid), they are, in their modern form, a new club, having been formed in 2000 when the two teams, Felixstowe Town and Port and Walton United, merged. Felixstowe Town and Port date back to 1890, and Walton can trace their roots back to 1895. Interestingly, they actually merged together once before, in 1947, to become Felixstowe United. This was quite common up and down the country after both World Wars. Simply put, when the men returned from war, there were a good number missing or too badly injured to carry on playing, so many a team consolidated by merging with a neighbour. Felixsowe and Walton FC However, in this case the union was not to last too long. Walton re-emerged as a separate club in 1950, and United reverted back to its old Felixstowe name in 1996 before their most recent coming together again in 2000. So that's the history of the club – but what of the remarkable history of the region that is tied up in their name? Well, I alluded to it before in a very long list... do I go through each one? ...I'll try. Quickly. Roman settlements: Archaeology shows several things about the Roman past of Felixstowe. Firstly, Walton Castle (more on which later) has Roman stones at its core, indicating that the Romans were the first to begin its construction. Secondly, Roman artefacts, including numerous coins, have been found scattered around the Shotley Peninsula. And there are Roman ruins under the waves, with what looks like a substantial settlement having once existed on a spit of land jutting out from either Shotley or Harwich - which no longer exists. The next major chapter in the region's history revolves around one man: Felix of Burgundy, better known as Felix of Dunwich. He became the first Bishop of the East Angles and is generally credited with bringing Christianity to the kingdom. Around AD 630, Felix travelled from Burgundy to Canterbury before Archbishop Honorius sent him to the court of King Sigeberht. Local tradition says he came ashore at Babingley in Norfolk before making his way into East Anglia. Sigeberht granted him a bishop's seat at Dommoc – although historians are still arguing where that actually was. The two leading contenders are Walton itself or further up the coast at Dunwich. I think Felixstowe and Walton need to lay claim to him before someone else does… Bede also records that Felix helped establish a school where "boys could be taught letters". That might not sound particularly exciting, but in seventh-century East Anglia it was a huge step forward. Reading and writing were rare skills, books were precious objects, and schools barely existed. The arrival of Christianity helped change all of that. Next up, Walton Castle itself. It was a Roman ‘Saxon Shore Fort’. Essentially a line of forts built up and down the South and East coast by the Romans to keep the Saxons out. As the Romans suffered problems in mainland Europe those rough and tumble German raiders spied an opportunity and began landing in England and troubling the locals. The Romans responded with a line of forts – Walton was one of them. Later, when the Romans left, it was taken over by the Saxons (the irony), and then later by the Normans, who strengthened and expanded it quite significantly. All in all, it wasn't a very successful fort. Twice it was built up to keep out an invader. And twice it failed. Alas, the true enemy of the fort was the sea, and by 1760 it had tumbled into the waves. Supposedly, elements of it can still be seen poking out of the water at low tide, although, growing up in the area, nobody has ever mentioned this to me, nor have I seen it with my own eyes. Althoug this picture I found online looks awesome: Next on my list was the use of the Orwell as a regrouping area for the English fleet after the Spanish Armada. It was. However, by this point, most of the fighting had already been done. For those who do not know the story, the Spanish fleet sailed up through the English Channel on its way to Calais. The English fleet engaged it and was able to cause some light damage by using its longer-range cannons, which meant the English could attack and then break off before the Spanish heavy guns could respond. However, the fleet made it to Calais more or less intact and was due to embark the Spanish army waiting there before sailing across to invade England. Legend has it that Queen Elizabeth herself donned armour and was ready to lead the English into battle to oppose the amphibious landing. Thankfully, Lizzie didn't need to smudge her make-up, as the English Navy sneakily sailed 'fire ships' (basically floating bombs – a precursor to Ukraine's sea drones) into the harbour and forced the Spanish fleet to scatter in a hurried panic. The English fleet, sitting just offshore, could then pick off the Spanish ships one at a time, catching them under-crewed and unprepared for a fight. This they did quite effectively, chasing the Spaniards north before breaking off the pursuit to rest up at Felixstowe. Mother Nature did the rest, and a huge storm wrecked what was left of the Spanish fleet... Fast forward 80 years or so, and Felixstowe was once again witness to military antics – this time more directly aimed at its own shores. In 1667, the Dutch landed forces at Felixstowe. They had recently humiliated the English at the Medway, sinking many ships, destroying shore facilities and towing away the flagship. The Dutch felt that, having taken control of the Thames Estuary, the next step was to secure the Orwell. And so it was that an invasion force landed at Felixstowe while Dutch ships struck out to destroy the shipyards at Harwich. However, the Suffolk boys were more than the Dutch had bargained for. A party of Royal Marines based at Landguard Fort was able to repel the invaders, killing and capturing around 150 of them for the loss of only 10 defenders – and a musket ball in the shoulder for the governor of the fort, a Mr Nathaniel Darrell. The Dutch withdrew and their plans to invade were shelved. No invader has ever set foot on English soil since. Never mess with the 'Stowe. Fast forward a couple of centuries and we have the Victorian era – and for this I am going to shamelessly quote the official website of Felixstowe: "The traditional Victorian seafront developed a lovely promenade backed by lavish and well-tended subtropical gardens that edged a long and sandy beach, with Edwardian hotels and B&Bs and the pleasant town perched on the cliff above. Completed in 1905, Felixstowe's pier was once one of the longest in the country, with its own electric tramway running to the end, and was the stopping point for the 'Belle' paddle steamers which operated between London and Great Yarmouth." The pier itself, unfortunately, was actually half-demolished during the Second World War to stop any Nazis landing and using it to swarm jackbooted troops into the town. So, where you see it today, imagine it a lot longer and with its own train service, like the one in Southend. There is also, if you walk the promenade today, a sign explaining that the German Kaiser and his family stayed in Felixstowe to enjoy its famous spa waters and pretty gardens. One image I remember seeing a lot as a kid, and being impressed by (and slightly jealous of), were the old photos showing Edwardian beachgoers being able to rent a beach hut on wheels that would be towed into the water by a horse. You'd have your own floating island to base yourself on while you enjoyed the sea. If ever there was a call to MAKE BRITAIN GREAT AGAIN, surely the reintroduction of such things would be ideal (maybe minus the horse – I don't fancy swimming in horse shit). Next up – seaplanes! In 1913, the Royal Naval Air Station Felixstowe was established to house, develop and test seaplanes for the defence of the realm. They were, of course, a brand-new technology (the Wright brothers had only got airborne in 1903!). During the First World War they proved their worth, harassing and sinking German U-boats. The pictures from the time are incredible. And last, but by no means least... the modern Port of Felixstowe. Felixstowe's rise to become Britain's largest container port was no accident. During the 1950s and 1960s, as global trade began shifting from traditional cargo to standardised shipping containers, the port's owners spied an opportunity to get ahead of the game. The first purpose-built container terminal opened in 1967, just as containerisation was beginning to revolutionise world trade. Government helped too, paying for improvements to the A14 and supporting new rail links to the Midlands, allowing goods arriving in Suffolk to reach Britain's manufacturing centres quickly and efficiently. Decades of careful planning, continual dredging to accommodate ever-larger vessels, and private investment in deeper berths and modern cranes transformed what had once been a modest dock into a world-class logistics hub.2 Today, the Port of Felixstowe handles around 40% of the UK's containerised trade, with thousands of containers moving through its terminals every day. Its success rests on constant innovation. Automated container handling, digital tracking systems, giant ship-to-shore cranes and efficient rail freight operations have enabled the port to keep pace with the dramatic growth of global commerce. So there we have it. Phew! This is why I was putting off doing this write-up as a) it was going to be massive, and b) I didn't think I'd do it justice. I almost certainly haven't done it justice. But... I've done something, and it's a start to be built upon, perhaps. Incidentally, if you've made it this far and you have a passion for Felixstowe and/or deep pockets and/or know someone at Felixstowe Museum, I'd love to work with you to help realise my fantasy of creating an augmented reality presentation of all this history. Visitors could don a pair of glasses and look out over the Orwell while the stories above came alive. Romans arrive, Saxon forts are built, Christianity spreads, Dutch invaders are repelled, holidaymakers go for a swim and seaplanes take to the air – all in the space of about ten minutes... I think it would be remarkable. Felixstowe and Walton. It has quite the past – and, if we play our cards right, an exciting future.

Ajax have had a recent reputation for producing utterly striking and beautiful kits. I suppose, being named after a Greek hero, Ajaz FC have always been looking to stand out. Their 2025/26 away shirt may quietly be one of the most historically loaded kits in modern football. Many a team has produced a ‘wavy’ kit to indicate their town’s relationship with the sea. But few can boast that their connection to the sea has been as impactful as that of Amsterdam’s. Because it was from the docks of Amsterdam that the Dutch struck out on an epic journey of discovery, conquest, enrichment – and murder and destruction. It was on those waves that the Dutch turned themselves into a peripheral corner of Europe looking out onto the rough weather of the North Sea- into one of the richest and most influential cities on Earth. So, let’s dig a bit deeper into this tale and understand what we are truly looking when we see those waves… let’s #GetTheShirtIn for Ajax’s 25/26 Away kit. At the centre of this story is the Dutch East India Company. The VOC. Or to give it its full Dutch name: Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie — the United East India Company. Founded in 1602, the VOC was effectively the world’s first multinational corporation centuries before anybody had even invented the concept. It had private armies, its own navy, overseas colonies, the power to sign treaties and even the legal right to wage war. In many ways it behaved less like a business and more like a country with shareholders. A sort of arrangement that I can image Musk would like to do to the USA into – and Trump is already busy doing. But the thing that both of those should probably learn, was that it was not just military power that made the VOC so great. It was systems. Efficiency. Finance. Logistics. Ruthless practicality. Because the Dutch were not the first ones to the game: The Portuguese and Spanish had opened the great oceanic trade routes first. Portugal had established routes around Africa into India and the Spice Islands while Spain had built vast Catholic empires across the Americas and Pacific. But both powers remained heavily tied to royal monopolies and old aristocratic structures. Their empires were enormous, but slow, bureaucratic and expensive. The Dutch however, like to do things differently. The Netherlands was heavily Protestant, commercially minded and dominated by wealthy merchants rather than old school clerics and the absolute monarchs you’d find in the warmer climes of Southern Europe. While Spain spent fortunes on imperial wars and religious conflict, the Dutch innovated new methods of banking, shipping, warehousing and investment. And in so doing – they changed history. The VOC became the first company in history to launch what is widely considered the world’s first proper Initial Public Offering — an IPO. People could buy shares in the company and then later sell those shares to somebody else on Amsterdam’s growing financial markets. That may sound normal today, but at the time it was revolutionary. Previously investors often had to fund one risky voyage at a time and wait years to see whether a ship returned intact. This turned out to be the secret for unlocking human ingenuity. Capital was no longer tired up in golden robes and stainglass windows – but was plunged into new inventions and voyages of discovery. The wheels of the modern world began turning in Amsterdamn. Wealthy merchants who had never even seen Asia could suddenly become rich from spices arriving halfway across the world. And it was that, spices, especially nutmeg, which became the first cargo. A but like Frabk Herbert’s Dune – He Who Controls The Spice, Controls the Galaxy. Today nutmeg is deeply unremarkable. You have it in Christmas pudding or sprinkle it on a latte. But in the 1600s it was worth extraordinary sums of money. Europeans believed it could preserve food, improve health and even help fight the plague. But where did this ‘cure all’ spice come from? – The other side of the world. To be specific – the Banda Islands. The tiny Banda Islands in modern Indonesia became some of the most valuable places on Earth because they were one of the few locations where nutmeg naturally grew. Entire fleets sailed halfway around the globe for it. A successful journey to the islands and a return with a hold full of nutmeg could set you up for life. Wars were fought over it. The local people were massacred over it. Eventually the British took control of them – and then agreed to hand them back but only in exchange for a swampy bit of the North America coast known then as New Amsterdam. The Dutch, thinking this was the deal of the century, agreed. Today New York is… well. New York. That slight miscalculation aside the VOC became one of the most powerful organisations on Earth. Amsterdam’s shipyards became essential to this success. The Dutch transformed shipbuilding by using industrial production methods centuries before the Industrial Revolution properly began. Their docks used standardised parts, specialised labour and highly organised construction systems that allowed ships to be built faster and more cheaply than elsewhere in Europe. Their greatest innovation was the superbly named - fluyt. Unlike the giant prestige warships favoured by the Spanish, the fluyt was designed almost entirely around efficiency and cargo capacity. It had wide storage holds, simpler sails and required far smaller crews than traditional vessels. This mattered enormously. Fewer sailors meant lower wages. Larger holds meant more spices and goods could be transported per journey. The Dutch essentially redesigned the cargo ship around profit margins. And when needed, those ships could still fight. Dutch maritime power became so formidable that in 1667 they launched the famous Raid on the Medway during a war against England. Dutch forces sailed directly into English waters, attacked Chatham Dockyard, destroyed ships and captured the English flagship Royal Charles. It remains one of the most humiliating defeats in English naval history and demonstrated just how dominant Dutch shipbuilding and naval organisation had become. The Dutch also benefited from what today would probably be called industrial espionage. For decades Portugal had guarded maps, navigational routes and Asian trading knowledge as state secrets. Then along came Jan Huyghen van Linschoten. After working closely with Portuguese operations in Asia. After an argument with his bosses he packed up and returned to Europe – and mysteriously published a series of detailed maps, routes and sailing information that Portugal had desperately tried to keep hidden. The equivalent of downloading your work places hard drive before moving to a rival. This information fuelled further investment in more voyages and missions across the world to open up new markets and bring back precious goods. Which brings us back to Ajax’s shirt. Those waves. Not just the hazy view from an Amsterdam coffee shop. They represent harbours, cargo ships, canals, finance, shipyards, trade routes, capitalism, empire and maritime innovation. They represent a city whose fortunes literally rose with the tides. A tale of fortunes, fluyts and football.

This one is a bit late coming, but I've finally managed to get this shirt in the end-of-season sale. And it is a beauty - one that tells a remarkable, and not widely known, story. Wrexham's 2025 third shirt tells the story of an entire nation - on the other side of the world. And that takes some explaining for a North Wales mining town - so let's dig a little deeper and #GetTheShirtIn: It all begins, as so often in history, with a guy with an incredible beard. Welsh nationalist Reverend Michael D. Jones - an eccentric priest who had completed his training in Cincinnati, Ohio, before returning to Wales advocating a political solution to the issue of Welsh identity, such as independence for Wales. However, facing resistance at home, he struck upon a radical solution. If Welsh as a language and culture was to survive, they would need to find a new homeland from which to rally support and resources. Perhaps inspired by his time in Ohio, Jones felt the Welsh needed a colony they could call their own. They looked around, briefly even considering Palestine (which would have altered history somewhat), but eventually decided on the Argentine region of Patagonia. And so it was that in 1865, a small ship called the Mimosa sailed from Wales down to the South Atlantic carrying 153 settlers. Patagonia is a huge swathe of land stretching across the southern parts of Argentina and Chile, but it is also a harsh environment. The Andes Mountains shield it from the Pacific rains, making it one of the driest areas in the Americas, while its vast flat plains encourage strong winds that blow away topsoil in minutes - not ideal farmland. At least, not without some Welsh ingenuity. Jones negotiated with the Argentine government to settle in the remote Chubut Valley area of Patagonia - which suited the Argentines perfectly, as the region was subject to a tussle between themselves and Chile. More Europeans settling in Argentina's name served a dual purpose for them. The dream of the settlers was to create "a little Wales beyond Wales". The reality was brutal. The first years brought drought, crop failures and hunger. Many questioned whether the settlement could survive at all. Yet they dug deep, quite literally, and gradually transformed the valley into productive farmland, introducing new irrigation methods and eventually, in true Welsh fashion, building a railway linking their communities to the coast (and their exports to global markets). There were disagreements with the Argentine authorities over issues such as compulsory military service on Sundays, which clashed with the settlers' deeply held religious beliefs. Limited farmland also forced some families to leave for Canada and elsewhere in the early 20th century. But through persistence and that natural Welsh resilience, they survived and thrived, leaving something even more enduring than fields and railways. They achieved their dream - they built a little Wales. Known as Y Wladfa (The Colony). Today, more than 160 years later, towns such as Trelew ("Town of Lewis"), Trevelin, Gaiman and Dolavon still bear unmistakable Welsh roots. Visitors can walk into traditional Welsh tea houses, enjoy bara brith (Welsh tea bread), hear Welsh hymns and even attend the Eisteddfod, the famous Welsh festival of literature, poetry and music, now held in both Welsh and Spanish. The region even boasts its own flag - beating the distinctive Welsh dragon at the centre of the sku blue and white of Argeninta. Perhaps most remarkably of all, Welsh is still spoken there. Estimates vary, but somewhere between 1,500 and 5,000 people continue to speak a distinct Patagonian dialect of Welsh, while around 70,000 people in the region claim Welsh ancestry. For a colony founded by just 153 pioneers, that is an extraordinary legacy. There is, however, an important part of Patagonia's story that should not be overlooked. The Welsh settlers arrived in Chubut in 1865, before the Argentine government's infamous Conquest of the Desert campaign began in 1878. The Welsh themselves played no part in this military campaign. However, the wider expansion of European settlement across Patagonia came at a devastating cost to the region's Indigenous peoples, particularly the Mapuche and Tehuelche. Through a series of military operations, the Argentine state forcibly displaced and killed thousands of Indigenous inhabitants, opening vast areas of Patagonia to European colonisation. Those newly acquired lands would go on to become the foundation of Argentina's huge agricultural economy, with enormous expanses converted into cattle ranches and farmland that helped turn the country into one of the world's great agricultural exporters. The Welsh colony was not responsible for these events, nor was it established because of them, but they form an important part of the wider history of Patagonia and deserve to be remembered alongside the remarkable story of Y Wladfa. While Wrexham has become one of the world's most famous football clubs in recent years, but this shirt reminds everyone that Welsh identity has always travelled far beyond the country's borders. Before a couple of Hollywood actors discovered North Wales, a handful of ordinary Welsh families had already carried their nation's language and traditions across the Atlantic and preserved them for generations. It's a shirt that celebrates resilience, migration, identity. Not many football kits can tell a story quite like this one.

At first glance, this one is another soulless logo. A vain attempt to create a funky-looking logo that mimics the New York Yankees' famous "interlocking monogram" badge that adorns a gazillion baseball caps around the world. That the club is now also part of the City Group and appears to follow the round crest template used by Manchester City, Melbourne City, Montevideo City, etc., etc. (check them all out - they have a standard-looking "corporate style") doesn't fill the heart with much hope that there is a cracking story to tell behind this badge. But hold your horses - well, hold your horseless underground carriages, to be more precise. Because despite my initial scepticism, the designers here have been a lot smarter than one would think. So, without further ado, let's #GetTheBadgeIn for the MLS' New York City FC. Firstly, let's go back to those letters. Redesigned in 2024, this typeface is unique to the club, but is based on and inspired by the same tiled typeface used in NYC subway station signs dating back to the 1940s. This is perfectly fitting, as the round design itself was, when created by Rafael Esquer (the designer who also made the Houston Rockets' logo), based on the iconic New York City subway token. I admit I'd never heard of these things until writing this. Introduced in 1953, the idea was that people would buy a bunch of these tokens to insert into the turnstile machines to allow entry - and this meant that the price of the token could fluctuate without forcing people to insert the exact change while holding everyone else up. They were discontinued in 2003 and now, obviously, everyone uses contactless cards or phones to pay their fare. These copper coins, with their large Y engraved on the front - millions were in circulation - have now become collectors' items. eBay and local shops are awash with jewellery and cufflinks made from them. If you were going to link the club to any institution in NYC that embodies the heart and soul of the city, the subway is probably it. Formed in 1904, it is the largest (by station count) public transport network in the world - and one of the world's oldest. Aside from the sheer engineering marvel of the subway, it is also a cultural phenomenon. The NYC subway buskers are world-famous, and the "Subway Series" is a term for baseball games between the Dodgers, Giants and Yankees - all of which can be reached via the subway. During November and December, a special "Nostalgia" train is run on Sundays using old carriages and rolling stock from the 1930s and 40s that are still preserved and kept usable. The two pentagons on either side of the badge are also a nod to the old subway token. The last batch issued contained a cut-out pentagon in the centre, which alluded to the five boroughs of the city: Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Staten Island. Manhattan is the city's financial and cultural centre, Brooklyn is known for its arts scene and diverse neighbourhoods, Queens is celebrated for its multicultural communities and international cuisine, the Bronx is famous as the birthplace of hip-hop and home to the New York Yankees, while Staten Island is quieter, with a more suburban feel, historic sites and the famous Staten Island Ferry. The last aspect of the badge to mention is the colour scheme – based on the NY flag colours – blue, white and orange – which in turn derives from New York's link to the Netherlands. As we all know, New York began as New Amsterdam – a Dutch colony. The short version is that the British and Dutch had been fighting a series of wars against each other during the 1600s – the two North Sea powers had both built vast merchant fleets and powerful banking institutions, which were doing a grand job of building trading posts and colonies around the globe to enrich themselves. Their main problem was each other – they kept getting in each other's way. The Third Anglo-Dutch War ended in 1674 with a treaty that saw New Amsterdam officially transferred to the British – overseen by Charles II's brother, James, Duke of York. Hence "York". The city (well, a small outpost at the head of the Hudson River at this time) was becoming increasingly important because it linked England's northern and southern American colonies. On the other hand, the Dutch were more interested in protecting their immensely profitable Asian spice empire. Through the Dutch East India Company, they controlled much of the global spice trade, particularly nutmeg and cloves. The small volcanic islands of the Banda Islands were among the only places in the world where nutmeg naturally grew, making them extraordinarily valuable in the 17th century. They were more valuable than oil is today, per tonne. Looking back, the exchange seems like a remarkable deal for the British. Today, New York is one of the world's most influential and richest cities, while the spice trade no longer really exists. But in 1674, few could have predicted that. At the time, spices were among the most valuable commodities on Earth, and Dutch leaders viewed this as a good deal – they believed they had got the better end of it. A collection of small buildings on a soggy little island in North America in exchange for the richest spice islands in the world. History, however, had other ideas – and today New York is home to around 20 million people if you take in its wider urban area. It contributes $1.3 trillion to the US economy and is still one of the world's top tourist destinations (despite Trump doing his level best to deter people these days). So there you have it – New York City FC. A well-funded team in the heart of the city that has funded much of the world's development over the last hundred or so years. They already have a trophy, the MLS Cup in 2021, and only a fool, or a Dutchman, would bet against them adding to the tally in the future. A tale of treaties, trains and trophies – not bad for what, at first glance, looks like an unremarkable badge.

When you travel east across Singapore, away from the towers of the central city, you eventually bump into an area called Tampines - named after a tree. The tempinis tree (or to be precise the ‘streblus elongatus’ – which sounds like something from Monty Python) is known for its hardy wood that once grew in thick forests in the area. Today they are few and far between - for obvious reasons a ready supply of excellent building timber was useful to not just the expanding city of Singapore but to the visiting ships needing repairs as they transited through the nearby ‘choke point’ of the Straits of Malacca. So what used to grow on the island has now all been used, bar one or two exhibition models still on show here and there. The area is home to not just a legacy of hardy trees but also hardy footballers. Tampines Rovers to be precise. Founded in 1945 - the same year Singapore’s wartime occupation ended. It was a time for rebuilding, and sport offered both escape and hope for the local people. They began as a local amateur side of policemen, dock workers, and students. They have come a long way since those days and at the time of writing are second in the Singapore Premier League, hot on the heels of bitter cross town rivals Lion City Sailors. Yet they are far from second fiddle - they’ve won 5 league titles, 5 cup competitions and in 2005 even the ASEAN Club Championship (The Champions League for South East Asian teams). They stormed ahead after this period and became giants in their region, signing Jermaine Pennant amongst others in 2016. However, the club ran into financial woes and has been in a rebuild mode since then but is close to being back at its peak again. Their badge, proudly displaying a majestic stag, may at first seem an odd choice in tropical Singapore. But there is a bit more to it than meets the eye. In many cultures, the stag represents grace, nobility, and renewal — shedding its antlers each year before growing stronger ones again. In Chinese symbolism, the deer (or lu) is a sign of prosperity and longevity – a fitting image for this club that is one of the oldest teams in Singapore and boasts a large Chinese Singaporean fan base. This stems from a linguistic pun: the Chinese word for deer, 鹿 (lù), is a homophone for 禄 (lù), which means "salary" or "prosperity." As a result, the deer is frequently depicted as a bearer of good fortune and success. It is also a good metaphor for the region of Tampines too. Before it became a bustling area of malls and high-rises, it was wilderness — forests, swamps, quarries, and plantations stretching toward the sea. The early settlers lived in kampongs, growing coconuts, fruit, and rubber. Through the 19th and early 20th centuries, roads were little more than dirt tracks. Tampines Road began as a bridle path cutting through thick vegetation – favoured with locals because the tempinis trees formed shady arches overhead and offered respite from the blistering heat of the summer. In the early 20th century the region became home to huge plantations of rubber and coconuts. Many esteemed Singapore families made their fortune during this time and their philanthropy further spurred development across the city. By the 1960s, sand quarrying transformed the area again. The pits supplied material for Singapore’s rapid urban development but scarred the land. Yet when the quarries were abandoned the nature slowly crept back in. Some filled with water to form ponds and lakes. Birds, frogs, and lizards returned. When the government began to design Tampines New Town in the 1980s, planners preserved some of these with green corridors where the tempinis could still be seen. Today, Tampines Eco Green and Lorong Halus Wetland stand as lush ecosystems built on this reclaimed land. This relatively small (geographically speaking) district houses a whopping 300,000 people. Within its mighty high rises and skyscrapers can be found several top end universities, Asias biggest convention centre and the regional HQs of JP Morgan, Credit Suisse and IBM amongst others. So the Stags of Tampine are the perfect symbol for this part of the city – just as the antlers grow, fall off and regrow again, so this area has gone through countless transformations. From lush forests, to rubber plantations to high rise residential and now to high end universities and banks – Tampine will always adapt and thrive, on and off the pitch.

Ghana played a great game against England in the group stages of the 2026 World Cup. Their disciplined low block never looked like breaking and, no matter how many of its superstars England threw at them, the Ghanaians held firm and looked dangerous on the break. Ghana's "Black Stars" are one of African football's great names - four-time AFCON champions, lifting the trophy in 1963, 1965, 1978 and 1982, and so dominant that they earned the right to keep the original trophy. Their golden moment so far came in 2010, when they reached the quarter-finals in South Africa and came within minutes of becoming the first African side ever to reach a semi-final. However, it was Ghana's gold and patterned away kit that was generating much of the social media chatter, as fans looked for something more exciting than the limited goalmouth action to focus on during their game against England. And it really is a kit worthy of further investigation - so let's #GetTheShirtIn and dig a bit deeper into Ghana's culture and past to reveal the secrets behind this beautiful kit. The patterns sewn into it are said to represent the famous Makola Market in the centre of Ghana's capital - Accra. Makola Market is far more than just a place to buy and sell things. Built in 1924, it has sat at the very heart of life in Accra for over a century. If you need car parts, fresh fruit, school books, handcrafted jewellery, cooking pots or even giant African land snails... you'll find them here. In fact, locals have a saying that if you can't find something in Makola Market, then it probably doesn't exist anywhere else in Ghana. At first glance it looks like complete chaos. Narrow lanes packed with thousands of traders, customers squeezing past each other, goods piled high in every direction. But beneath the apparent disorder is an incredibly organised system that has developed over generations, with traders specialising in different products and knowing exactly who to send you to if they don't stock what you're looking for. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Makola Market is who runs it. Like many markets across West Africa, it is overwhelmingly dominated by women. For generations, daughters have learned their trade from their mothers through apprenticeships, building businesses that provide financial independence and support entire families. Many of the market's most respected figures are known as 'market queens' - elected leaders who settle disputes, enforce rules, organise support for traders and help keep this enormous commercial machine running smoothly. The market has even survived attempts to wipe it off the map. During Ghana's economic crisis in 1979, the government blamed rising prices and shortages on Makola's traders. Soldiers demolished the market, believing its destruction would somehow solve the country's problems. Instead, one of Ghana's greatest trading institutions simply refused to disappear. Trading gradually returned, the market was rebuilt, and today Makola is once again one of the busiest and most important commercial centres in West Africa. To understand why Makola Market became so important, you first have to understand Accra and Ghana itself. The Ga were far more sophisticated than many people imagine. Rather than one large kingdom, they organised themselves into a network of independent city-states, each ruled by a Mantse (chief) and advised by councils of elders who governed everything from justice and trade to defence and diplomacy. Their location on the Gulf of Guinea made them expert seafarers and merchants, connecting inland peoples with ships arriving from across the Atlantic long before European powers took control of the coast. They became wealthy exporting gold, ivory and salt while importing cloth, beads and metals, and were skilled craftsmen in their own right, producing fine pottery, woven textiles and intricate beadwork that still forms an important part of Ghanaian culture today (see picture). Their greatest achievement, however, was perhaps political rather than military. For centuries they successfully balanced trade and alliances with powerful inland states such as the Asante while also negotiating with competing Portuguese, Dutch, Danish and British merchants, ensuring that Accra remained one of the most important commercial hubs on the entire West African coast. The Europeans called the region the Gold Coast, and for good reason. Vast quantities of gold were exported from here, alongside ivory and, tragically, enslaved people during the Atlantic slave trade. Britain gradually defeated the powerful Asante Kingdom in a series of wars during the nineteenth century and, in 1877, moved the colonial capital from Cape Coast to Accra. From that moment, Accra exploded in size, becoming the administrative and commercial heart of Britain's most valuable West African colony. But colonial rule would not last forever. On 6 March 1957, the Gold Coast became the first country in sub-Saharan Africa to win independence from European colonial rule. Led by the charismatic Kwame Nkrumah, the new nation deliberately rejected its colonial name, choosing instead "Ghana" in honour of the great medieval West African Empire. Nkrumah believed Ghana's freedom was only the beginning, declaring that its independence would mean little until the whole continent had thrown off colonial rule. His words proved prophetic as dozens of African nations followed in the years that came after. Today, Accra is a modern city of well over two million people, but places like Makola Market remain its beating heart. They are reminders that, long before Ghana became famous for football, cocoa or gold, its greatest strength has always been its people - traders, entrepreneurs and communities whose resilience has carried the city through empire, colonialism and independence alike.

Cape Verde, population 500,000, have qualified for the last 32 of the World Cup. A remarkable feat which saw them take points from Spain, Uruguay and Saudi Arabia, finishing second in their group above former World Cup champions Uruguay. Simply incredible. Their 40-year-old goalkeeper, Vozinha, went viral after a string of heroic saves kept a clean sheet against Spain. Overnight he went from 50,000 Instagram followers to 16 million. The day of the "Blue Sharks", as their national team is known, has truly arrived - they will play Lionel Messi's Argentina in the next round proper. So, I think it's only fair that we turn our attention to this remarkable national team and their Atlantic nation and see what is going on behind the scenes - so let's #GetTheBadgeIn and find out... First, before the badge - where the heck is it? Cape Verde is a collection of ten small volcanic islands that sit 650 miles west of Cap-Vert (Green Cape) in Senegal - which is why, when Europeans discovered the islands, they gave them that name: the islands near Cap-Vert. It was the Portuguese who first discovered the islands, which were completely uninhabited at the time. They settled them, and today the language of the islands is Portuguese. They achieved independence in 1975. Their official, and preferred, name is the Portuguese Cabo Verde. So, that's where they are and how they got their name... But why the badge? Why the Tubarões Azuis (Blue Sharks)? The badge features ten stars along the top which represent the ten islands. Each island has its own unique feel and attractions. Sal has pristine white beaches and salt mines, Boa Vista is known for nesting turtles and shipwrecks (famously the Cabo Santa Maria, which has become iconic along its beachfront), Santo Antão is covered in lush forest and boasts beautiful hiking routes, and the largest island, Santiago, is home to the original capital - Cidade Velha - which still looks much as it did in the 16th century and is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. In researching this place I have gone from wanting to visit to now wanting to take a year out and live there permanently. It sounds like a real-world paradise. The Blue Sharks name was adopted by the nation's FA in honour of, firstly, their national team colours (a bright royal blue) but also in honour of some of the islands' most famous residents - sharks. Situated directly on the Atlantic Ocean's marine migration routes, it is basically Mecca for hundreds of different species of sea life - but especially sharks. The most common are peaceful and friendly lemon sharks, which grow up to a huge 3.5 metres in length and gather around Sal's "Shark Bay", where tourists simply stand in the crystal-clear shallow waters taking selfies as these majestic creatures swim around them. Nurse sharks are also found around the islands and, further out in deeper waters, you get tiger sharks - known as the dustbins of the sea because they eat pretty much anything, including large man-made plastic objects, which unfortunately has contributed to them becoming an endangered species as humans seem intent on killing these beautiful creatures at an ever faster rate. So that's the nickname and badge - all fairly straightforward. But the history of the islands and their people is anything but. It is a rich tapestry - not always a happy one - but one which today has created a rich culture, mixing European and African traditions into one beautiful blend. The original Portuguese settlers tried to capitalise on the tropical climate by planting sugar and other crops, but the soil simply wasn't rich or deep enough to support large-scale agriculture, so the initial settlers struggled. However, Cape Verde's strategic position - sitting in the middle of the Atlantic, close to the Americas, Europe and Africa - made it perfect as the ultimate logistics hub for one of the worst crimes ever perpetrated by man: the Atlantic Slave Trade. European merchants arrived with manufactured goods such as textiles, firearms, metal tools and alcohol, which they exchanged with African rulers and traders for enslaved people. The islands soon came to house shipyards and supply sheds for the ships and crews - and, most chillingly of all, fortified warehouses for the human cargo: the enslaved Africans who were about to embark upon the perilous Middle Passage to the Americas, so called because of the famous Triangle Trade, where Europeans sold manufactured goods to African rulers in exchange for slaves, sold the slaves to the American colonies, and then shipped back to Europe the sugar, cotton and tobacco produced by the enslaved workers. They profited at every stage. Upon arrival in Cape Verde, captives from different ethnic groups across Africa were deliberately mixed together to prevent communication and rebellion. They were held on the islands long enough to learn basic Portuguese and undergo forced baptism before facing the brutal Middle Passage. Let's make no mistake about this - families were split up on purpose, people were branded with the ownership symbols of their new masters, placed in chains and marched aboard the slave ships. Any enslaved person who tried to escape or fight back was taken to the main square (the Pelourinho) and publicly tortured as a warning to the rest. Once on the ships, the conditions they faced were vile. The crews would install additional decks just for this part of the voyage, so the ships resembled shelving, with only a few feet of headroom. Chained together, they were packed in on their sides so more people could be squeezed in. The rough Atlantic crossing turned these decks into a rancid slosh of human waste, sickness and tears. Once a day, enslaved Africans were allowed onto the upper deck for food and air - and then back below they would go. More than a third would die en route, and many found the opportunity to jump overboard and take their own lives rather than continue this man-made hell. The crews themselves lost something of their souls and were paid handsomely for the experience, but very few sailors ever completed more than one voyage - the smell and misery stayed with them for the rest of their lives. The owners cared not one bit. Even with the high death tolls during transport, their human cargo fetched high prices in the Americas, where they were given their one and only decent meal, followed by a little make-up to make them appear healthier before being sold to plantation owners across the Caribbean and the American South. Europe and North America's economies profited handsomely at the expense of these men and women. Around 12 million people in total were taken from their homelands and sold into slavery between 1500 and 1800. The dark truth that all Americans and Europeans must face when walking their beautiful cities and admiring the magnificent buildings from this period is that a good chunk of the investment came from slave companies. Modern Europe was built, in part, on the human misery of Africa - there is no getting away from it. This must be understood by all if the world is to become a fairer and more just place. While today's Europeans and Americans are not guilty of their ancestors' crimes, they still benefit from the legacy of wealth, education and infrastructure that these ill-gotten riches seeded into European nations. Cape Verde became the key operating hub of this, the greatest organised crime in history. Today its people reflect that heritage - a racial mix of Europeans and Africans - and their food, music and dress bring those two worlds together. It was such a valuable prize for Portugal that they spent heavily fortifying the islands against pirate attacks, particularly from English privateers such as Sir Francis Drake, who raided the islands twice, burning stores and stealing goods and enslaved Africans. After the end of the slave trade, the islands saw investment dwindle - though obviously for the benefit of all. In the 1970s a short war was fought against Portugal and independence arrived shortly afterwards. Since then the islands have become a success story. In 2013, Barack Obama called Cape Verde "a success story", and today it scores highly for human rights and democratic accountability. Its coastguard works closely with others around the world to intercept narcotics being shipped from the Americas into Europe and has had considerable success capturing vessels packed with drugs that tried to use the islands as a stopping point on their journey. That this nation of only half a million people - which played such an important role in the Portuguese establishment of the Atlantic slave trade - has since fought for its freedom, enacted and maintained strong safeguards for human rights and liberty, and today helps police the very same seas across which such terrible crimes were once committed, is a story of the human spirit - and one of the most hopeful stories in international football. If anyone deserves World Cup success, it is the men and women of Cape Verde. Well played, lads. Well played.

They've met before, but tonight England take on Panama once again, this time in the 2026 FIFA World Cup. Before a ball is kicked, though, I spotted their FA's beautifully designed crest and felt compelled to do some due diligence on the men from Central America. So let's #GetTheBadgeIn and see what we can discover... This badge only arrived in 2024, so tonight will be the first time it has taken to the field against England. And, obviously, what immediately grabs your attention - because it is exceptionally cool - is the enormous bird spreading its wings around the shield at its centre. This is the Harpy Eagle - Panama's national bird, one of the largest and most powerful birds of prey on Earth. Unlike most of its cousins, it doesn't spend its days soaring over open plains looking for unsuspecting mammals to dive-bomb. Instead, it inhabits the dense tropical rainforests of Central and South America, with some of its strongest remaining populations living in Panama's vast Darién rainforest. Flying through the thick jungle requires a very different set of skills. Rather than possessing the long, narrow wings of an eagle built for gliding, the Harpy Eagle has relatively short, broad wings that allow it to weave effortlessly between towering trees in pursuit of prey. And what prey they hunt. While most eagles survive on rabbits or rodents, Harpy Eagles regularly hunt monkeys, sloths, iguanas and other surprisingly large mammals. Their talons can grow to over 12 centimetres long - larger than the claws of a grizzly bear - allowing them to snatch prey weighing almost as much as the eagle itself. Sitting right at the top of the rainforest food chain, these bad boys really are the kings of the jungle. When staring straight down the barrel of the camera they also resemble something out of Star Trek. They're creepy frigging things. Despite being a new badge, the design team have done a fantastic job of packing it with meaning - something I very much approve of. The ten wing feathers, for example, represent Panama's ten provinces, while the four crest feathers rising from the eagle's head symbolise the four key stages in the federation's journey towards creating its new identity. (As this is the federation's fourth badge, I'm assuming that's what they mean.) Nestled in the eagle's chest sits a shield that pays tribute to Panama's footballing past. Rather than designing something entirely new, the federation looked back to its historic 1977 crest, incorporating its shape into the modern design. Within it are the familiar red, white and blue quarters of the Panamanian flag. And those colours tell a fascinating story of their own. When Panama declared its independence from Colombia in 1903, the new nation wanted a flag that would represent unity rather than division. The blue represents the Conservative Party, while the red represents the Liberal Party - two political movements that had spent years locked in bitter rivalry across Colombia. Indeed, they fought tooth and nail against each other between 1899 and 1902 in what became known as the Thousand Days' War (which also featured a very high number of child soldiers - see image). Separating them is white, symbolising the hope for peace and harmony between the two sides as the young republic forged its own identity. Officially, the blue star represents purity and honesty in public life, while the red star symbolises authority and the rule of law. It's all a little idealistic for my liking... but I suppose it shows that even in the early 1900s some designers liked to dream big. It is, therefore, a wonderfully optimistic flag - one that doesn't celebrate military victories or ancient dynasties, but instead reflects the values that Panama hoped would define its new future away from their Colombian big brothers. The gold border surrounding the crest takes its inspiration from the famous Golden Altar inside the Church of San José in Panama City. According to local tradition, when the pirate Henry Morgan attacked the city in 1671, priests painted the altar black to disguise its value and prevent it from being looted. Morgan was a Welshman who took it upon himself to help the English in their war against Spain by looting Panama City. And he did so with gusto, burning much of the city to the ground and stealing just about everything of value (minus the altar). Upon returning to the Caribbean, however, he discovered that England had signed a peace treaty with Spain before his attack. Claiming he had never received the news, he was arrested for attacking what had, by then, become a friendly nation. On returning to England, the prisoner was pardoned by King Charles II and, in one of history's more remarkable career progressions, was knighted and appointed Lieutenant Governor of Jamaica for his troubles. Lad. The altar went on to become one of Panama's greatest national treasures, and its golden outline on the badge serves as a reminder of the country's resilience. In a region dominated by Mexico, the United States and Costa Rica, Panama often found itself on the outside looking in. The national side came painfully close to reaching the World Cup on several occasions, only to fall at the final hurdle. Then came 10 October 2017. With just two minutes remaining against Costa Rica, the scores were level. Panama needed a winner to qualify for the FIFA World Cup for the very first time. Up stepped captain Román Torres. His scrambled finish sparked scenes unlike anything the country had ever witnessed. The final whistle triggered a nationwide celebration. Schools closed. Businesses shut their doors. The President declared the following day a national holiday. For a country of just over four million people, it was one of the greatest sporting moments in its history. Their reward was a place at the 2018 World Cup in Russia, where fate handed them a daunting group featuring Belgium, Tunisia... and England. The 6–1 defeat to England was, admittedly, a little bruising. But the locals don't really remember the scoreline. They do, however, remember the 78th minute, when veteran defender Felipe Baloy bundled home Panama's first-ever World Cup goal. His celebration became one of the iconic images of the tournament. Panama may have been well beaten, but for their supporters, history had been made. After narrowly missing out on the 2022 World Cup, Panama have returned to the biggest stage once again in 2026. Tonight they meet England once more. And yet, as fascinating as Panama's football story is, it still isn't the country's greatest contribution to the world. For that, we have to leave the football pitch altogether. Few places on Earth have shaped history quite like Panama - and, in many ways, shaped the modern world. The country sits on a narrow strip of land, known as an isthmus, linking North and South America. At its narrowest point, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans are separated by barely 80 kilometres. For centuries, explorers, merchants and empires looked at this sliver of land and asked the same question - where's the bloody shortcut? Without a passage through, ships travelling between the east and west coasts of the Americas had little choice but to make the hazardous journey around Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America. It added thousands of kilometres to every voyage, increasing costs, delaying trade and exposing ships to some of the roughest seas on the planet. The first serious attempt to solve the problem came from the French in the 1880s. Fresh from the success of the Suez Canal, Ferdinand de Lesseps believed Panama would simply be another triumph of engineering. He was spectacularly wrong. Unlike the flat deserts of Egypt, Panama was a wall of dense rainforest, steep hills, torrential rain and unstable ground. Workers battled landslides, flooding and suffocating humidity. Even worse were the diseases. Mosquitoes carrying yellow fever and malaria swept through the camps, killing thousands of labourers before anyone understood how the illnesses spread. The project collapsed in financial ruin and tragedy. However, sitting in Washington was one of the most extraordinary American presidents ever to hold office: Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt. (If you don't know much about him - honestly, Google him. What a bloke.) Roosevelt dreamed of turning the United States into a global power and knew that was rather difficult when its Atlantic and Pacific coastlines were effectively worlds apart. He approached Colombia, outlining America's new engineering techniques, its growing understanding of mosquito-borne diseases and, perhaps most importantly, the fistfuls of dollars it was prepared to throw at the project. Colombia, however, was unimpressed and rejected the proposal. It was then that Roosevelt suddenly discovered a great enthusiasm for those in Panama calling for independence. By remarkable coincidence, Panama declared independence shortly afterwards. By another remarkable coincidence, the US Navy appeared almost immediately to ensure Colombian forces were unable to put the rebellion down. Historians can debate quite how coincidental all of that really was... Construction resumed in 1904 and, ten years later, in 1914, the Panama Canal finally opened. It was one of the greatest engineering achievements in human history. The impact of the Panama Canal is almost impossible to overstate. A journey that once took weeks could suddenly be completed in less than a day. Instead of battling the treacherous seas around Cape Horn, ships could simply pass through the heart of Panama, linking the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans with a transit of little more than 80 kilometres. It revolutionised global shipping, transformed international trade and cemented Panama's place as one of the world's most strategically important countries. Even today, around five per cent of global maritime trade passes through the canal each year. Everything from cars and electronics to grain, liquefied natural gas and shipping containers travels through its locks. When drought lowers the water level or maintenance restricts traffic, the effects are felt across the globe, with delays and rising costs rippling through international supply chains. For Panamanians, however, the canal is far more than an engineering marvel. It is a source of national identity, immense pride... and a healthy chunk of the country's income. The national football team's nickname, Los Canaleros – The Canal Men – is a direct tribute to the waterway that placed Panama at the crossroads of the world. So, as England line up against Panama tonight, it's worth remembering that their opponents represent far more than a football team. From one of the world's most fearsome birds of prey, to a flag that symbolises unity after political division, to an engineering project that changed global commerce forever, Panama's story is extraordinary. Not bad for a bird on a badge.

Racing Club de Strasbourg Alsace, aka RC Strasbourg. A French club with a giant track record. It has won all three major French trophies in its time and has racked up over 2,000 games in the top flight. Their badge is an interesting-looking creature, but not quite as interesting as the region from which they come: Alsace. Once again, a simple football badge reveals an absolutely fascinating story. Anyone who did GCSE History will be familiar with the name Alsace and why it was so important during the 20th century. The region sits nestled between France and Germany and, together with its neighbouring province of Lorraine, sat alongside some of Europe's richest iron ore fields – an essential ingredient for all would-be European empires. It proved too tempting. In the Franco-Prussian War of 1870–71, the newly formed German nation defeated the French and seized it. Which is why the history of RC Strasbourg is actually quite unique. Founded in 1906, it was originally German. Called Fußballclub Neudorf, it was made up of students from the south of the city and was bankrolled by their teacher. The city and region were divided during this period between German elites who were very much in favour of their new masters in Berlin and locals who felt more deeply rooted in their French identity. The existing clubs all had substantial German backing. Fußballclub Neudorf didn't, and as such it immediately attracted supporters looking for a way to express their Frenchness – for want of a better word – against the German occupiers. (It was perhaps more complicated than I'm making out; the region was linguistically and culturally German until it fell into the French orbit in the 1600s.) In fact, if we're being really picky here, the debate goes way back to 842. Some chap called Charlemagne – King of the Franks – built his capital in what is now modern-day Germany. A few decades after he shuffled off this mortal coil, his grandsons met in Strasbourg and pledged to work together for the lasting peace of Europe (...there have been a few hiccups, admittedly). The Oaths of Strasbourg were written in both an early form of German and an early form of French. So identity in this region is a little complicated, to put it mildly. But there were certainly deep French roots and plenty of people wanting to express them around the time those students began kicking a ball about. However, hopes that they'd immediately make their mark on the Germans were dashed in their very first match against the aptly named FC Germania. The students abandoned the game at half-time at 7–0 down and presumably went off to drown their sorrows in red wine. Their form improved over the next decade, but their luck didn't. The team won promotion to the German First Division and secured a permanent playing field... in 1914. History boffins amongst you will already have realised that this was quite an unfortunate date. The First World War broke out that summer, the team's players were enlisted, and Alsace found itself right next to the front line. Football was put on hold for a while. When it returned, things had changed somewhat. As part of the famous Treaty of Versailles signed in 1919, Germany was forced to surrender its military, its empire and large swathes of territory – including Alsace-Lorraine. The French, to rub salt into the wound, delighted in making the Germans sign the document in the Palace of Versailles (just outside Paris – go and visit, it is astonishingly beautiful), as it was in that very same place that the Germans had forced France to surrender Alsace-Lorraine nearly fifty years earlier. The French wanted symbolic payback. Obviously, things got a little messy again in the 1940s – you may have read about it – and the club stopped playing once more while its players tried to avoid being drafted into the Wehrmacht. So when Fußballclub Neudorf returned, they were French rather than German and needed a far less German-sounding name. They opted for Racing Club – a direct nod to one of France's most famous clubs at the time, Racing Club de France of Paris. One of the oldest clubs in the country, it was steeped in French identity, and its ground, complete with racing track, had hosted the athletics events at the 1900 Olympics. I suppose it would be a bit like... I don't know... France invading Dover and then Dover FC renaming itself Dover Saint-Germain. Or something. Anyhow, the point was clear: They were definitely French now. So that's merely the club's geography and national identity explained. What about the actual badge? Let’s start with the cathedral that sits alongside the club's initials. Strasbourg Cathedral was, for over two centuries, the world's tallest building, with its spire reaching 142 metres in 1647 and not being beaten until those pesky cathedral builders over in Hamburg surpassed it. Strasbourg was an important Roman town and, as such, when the Romans switched to Christianity, Strasbourg did too. Remarkably, it had its first Christian bishop in 346. Pretty incredible, really. So what then of those curved wings? Well – I didn’t know this until I read it – it is a stork. Specifically, the White Stork, which is to Alsace what the Liver Bird is to Liverpool or the canary is to Norwich. It is identity. For centuries these enormous birds have migrated from Northern Europe in the summer down to Africa in the winter. Alsace sits directly under their flight path. They became common sights, nesting on rooftops, church towers and chimneys across the region, becoming so closely associated with Alsace that they effectively became its unofficial mascot. According to local folklore, a house blessed with a stork's nest would enjoy good fortune, prosperity and family happiness. In fact, the famous tale of storks delivering babies can trace its roots back to Alsace, where children were said to wait in a magical pond before being collected and delivered to expectant parents by the birds. By the 1970s, the stork had almost disappeared from the region altogether, but a hugely successful conservation effort brought it back from the brink. Today, the sight of a stork perched atop a half-timbered Alsatian house is once again commonplace. So if Racing Club Strasbourg wanted a symbol that screamed "We are Alsace", they could hardly have picked anything more fitting than a giant bird famous for delivering babies and bringing good luck. So there, finally, we have it! Racing Club Strasbourg. Built atop the very meeting point of the tectonic plates of French and German identity, begun by German students but named to stick two fingers up at the Germans (if you excuse the British phrase...), the seat of religious power, home of world-beating architecture and heir to a tale linked to one of Europe’s largest and most beautiful birds. A tale of movement, pride and achievement. That would be RC Strasbourg.

Absolutely had no intention of doing this one. But. Sometimes you come across a team that just demands a deeper dive behind the scenes, and FC Astoria Walldorf – competing in the Regionalliga Südwest (the German fourth tier) – are just such a team. One of my all-time favourite history stories is that of John Jacob Astor, and this team, and this badge, pay homage to that man. So let's #GetTheBadgeIn and see what is behind this badge and the team's name... To begin this tale, we need to go back to 1763 and the small town of Walldorf in western Germany (near the French border). Wald means forest and Dorf means village – so literally a small woodland village. It was there that a child called John Jacob Astor was born to the local butcher (a butcher's boy – just like Ipswich legend Thomas Wolsey...). He began learning his father's trade from a young age but wasn't happy with his lot and spied opportunities elsewhere. In his late teens, Astor moved to London, where one of his brothers was already established in business. He learned English and worked in the musical instrument trade. After the end of the American Revolutionary War, opportunities opened up in the newly independent United States. In 1784, at the age of 21, Astor boarded a ship and sailed to New York City with little money and few connections. Legend has it that during the voyage he met a fur trader who explained the enormous profits that could be made in the North American fur trade. That conversation may have changed his life. Astor began by selling musical instruments but quickly moved into buying and selling animal furs. At the time, European demand for beaver hats was enormous. Beaver pelts from North America were highly prized, and traders could earn huge profits transporting them across the Atlantic (think: The Revenant). Astor built trading relationships with Native American communities, frontier traders and European buyers. He proved exceptionally skilled at logistics and negotiation. By the early 1800s, he had created the American Fur Company, which became one of the largest businesses in North America. His network stretched from the Great Lakes to the Rocky Mountains. He even sold vast quantaties of furs and other goods to China and Russia - one of the first American businesses to really profit from the cross-Pacific trade. The company owned its own large cargo ship, appropirately called The Beaver, that sailed the route between America and Canton (today's Guangzhou). For a time, Astor effectively monopolised the American fur trade. Unlike many wealthy merchants, Astor realised that the fur trade would not last forever. So he struck upon his next great breakthrough and began investing his profits in land around New York City. At the time, much of Manhattan north of the settled city was farmland and countryside. Many people thought he was wasting money. "The city will never grow that big," they said. Astor was right. They were wrong. As New York grew, the value of his land increased dramatically. By the 1830s and 1840s, much of his wealth came not from furs but from real estate. And, just as if he were playing real-world Monopoly, Astor upgraded his property empire by building hotels... and not just any hotels... The world's best hotels. His most famous was the Astor House, opened in 1836 (pictured). It was knocked down in 1967 to make way for One Astor Plaza - a 54 storey office block. The Astor House quickly became one of the finest hotels in America. Politicians, businessmen, foreign visitors and celebrities stayed there. It helped establish the Astor name as a symbol of wealth and prestige. Later generations of the Astor family would become even more famous in the hotel business, eventually helping create the legendary Waldorf-Astoria, which dominated the city and stood near Central Park. Despite becoming America's richest man, Astor never forgot where he came from. He sent money back to Walldorf and supported local projects. His success became a source of pride for the town. The connection was so strong that when later generations of Walldorf residents came to think of a name for their football team, there could only be one choice, and FC Astoria Walldorf was born. Imagine a small town in South Africa calling themselves Musk FC in honour of all the help that Elon sent to the... oh... oh yes... poor example. He's never helped anyone. But if he were a decent human being, you could understand someone doing it. So that's the origin of the club's name. The tree on the badge comes from the coat of arms of the town of Walldorf, which, as we've already seen, was a heavily forested area – hence the name. And as if one multi-billionaire son wasn't enough, Walldorf now boasts two. Dietmar Hopp was born in nearby Heidelberg. After training as a computer engineer and working for IBM, he and three colleagues left the company and formed their own little outfit called Systeme, Anwendungen und Produkte in der Datenverarbeitung (Systems, Applications and Products in Data Processing) – or SAP. Today, SAP is Europe's most valuable company by market value and the largest software company in the world outside the USA. It is headquartered in Walldorf and has been the long-term shirt sponsor of FC Astoria Walldorf. So there you have it. From beaver furs to luxury hotels to software titans, this little German town – and its football club – represent an incredible past. The team are looking to build an even more exciting future every Saturday on the pitch. I wish them all the luck in the world.

Currently playing in National League North, Merthyr Town boast a beautiful badge that tells an incredible story – one of Roman forts, religious sacrifice and Industrial Revolution engineering brilliance. So, let's do this Welsh town the honour and #GetTheBadgeIn to see what we can find out. The club itself was formed in 1908 and has always played in the English leagues, alongside larger Welsh clubs such as Cardiff, Swansea, Wrexham and Newport. They have competed in both English and Welsh cup competitions, with a highlight coming in 1987 when they won the Welsh Cup and qualified for the European Cup Winners' Cup. There they were drawn against Italian giants Atalanta and, remarkably, beat them in the first leg. Quite the scalp that few clubs outside the top two divisions of English football could ever boast. Remarkably, and wonderfully, they have played their entire history at the same venue – Penydarren Park. There is an image in the National Library of Wales of the team playing against my home team, Ipswich Town, in 1951. Note how the football shirts still looked rather like rugby jerseys, complete with their large collars. The football stadium itself proved to be the key to unlocking one of the earliest chapters in the town's history. The site once housed a Roman fort. Contractors clearing the land to build the ground came across pottery fragments and brickwork, which soon revealed a substantial Roman site containing mosaics, a well and a bathhouse. The Romans had built the fort during their campaigns against the local Welsh Silures tribe. This struggle featured clashes between the tribal leader and warrior Caratacus and the Roman governor of Britain, Publius Ostorius Scapula. Scapula had his work cut out trying to subdue an island of tribes that largely resented their new occupiers. He strengthened Roman authority through centres such as Colchester and St Albans in a bid to extend Roman control across Britain. The Iceni in East Anglia (of Boudicca fame) launched several attacks on Roman forces, while in Wales it was Caratacus who won a number of notable victories and frustrated Roman advances through guerrilla-style warfare, retreating into the Welsh hills before appearing elsewhere to strike again. Eventually, however, the sheer might and persistence of Rome prevailed. Caratacus was captured and the region settled into relative calm. By this point, however, Roman power was beginning to wane and imperial troops were gradually withdrawing. Not before, though, they had introduced Christianity to the local population – a development that would shape the town's future. One thing I was not especially aware of, perhaps because I grew up on the east coast, was that after the Romans left, the power vacuum in Wales and western England led to the phenomenon of Irish raiders attacking – and sometimes settling – across the region, just as the Germanic Saxons were doing on the opposite side of Britain. But it was the presence of Christianity that would result in the event for which the town would become most famous – and from which it would take both its name and football crest. The clue to the town's name lies in those early Christian roots. In Welsh, the word *merthyr* means "martyr" – someone who dies for their faith. Merthyr Tydfil therefore translates roughly as "The Martyrdom of Tydfil", making it one of the few towns in Britain named directly after a religious sacrifice. Tydfil herself was a legendary Welsh saint who is said to have lived during those turbulent years after Roman rule collapsed. According to tradition, she was one of the twenty-four children of Brychan, King of Brycheiniog. Twenty-four children. Poor guy. The story goes that around the year 480, Tydfil and her brother Rhun were killed near the site of the modern town, either by local pagan Welsh groups or by Anglo-Saxon raiders pushing westwards into Britain. In death, Tydfil became a Christian martyr and the settlement that grew around her shrine took her name. The parish church of St Tydfil still stands in the town today and is believed to be where she is buried. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the image that adorns the crest of Merthyr Town F.C. We could stop the story there, but then we'd be missing out on one of the town's most remarkable stories and contributions to the world: iron. Merthyr was blessed with a geographical jackpot. Within a relatively small area sat huge reserves of iron ore, coal and limestone – the three key ingredients needed to produce iron on an industrial scale. Add fast-flowing rivers for power, vast forests for timber and a valley that naturally connected the area to the coast, and you had all the ingredients for this one-time Roman fort and settlement, known primarily for its church, to become a centre of the Industrial Revolution. From the mid-eighteenth century, entrepreneurs began to realise the potential hidden beneath the Welsh hills. What followed was one of the most extraordinary periods of industrial growth anywhere in Britain. Four giant ironworks emerged: Dowlais, Cyfarthfa, Plymouth and Penydarren. By the early nineteenth century they were producing iron on a scale almost unimaginable at the time. At its peak, Merthyr Tydfil was not simply an important industrial town – it was the iron capital of the world. Tens of thousands of workers poured into the valley and the skyline became dominated by furnaces, chimneys and rolling mills. Thomas Carlyle visited in 1850 and described the scene as resembling a vision of Hell itself, with workers labouring amidst smoke, fire and dirt. Yet alongside the grime came innovation. The need to move iron from the valley to the sea led to the construction of the Glamorganshire Canal and later a web of railways that threaded their way through some of the most difficult terrain in Britain. Then, in 1804, engineer Richard Trevithick successfully ran the world's first steam locomotive on rails. His machine hauled iron, wagons and passengers almost ten miles along the Merthyr Tramroad. It was slow and the locomotive was unreliable, but none of that really matters. For a few hours on a February day in South Wales, the future arrived. The railways that would reshape Britain, Europe and eventually the world can trace their ancestry back to Merthyr Tydfil. The scale of production was astonishing. In 1844 alone, one Merthyr ironworks exported around 50,000 tons of railway rails to Russia. Those rails stretched eastwards across the vast Russian Empire towards Siberia. Merthyr iron was helping to build the infrastructure of nations thousands of miles away. The town's influence had become global. And nowhere demonstrates that influence better than a city now at the centre of modern headlines – Donetsk, Ukraine. In 1869, a Welsh industrialist named John Hughes left Merthyr and travelled to the coalfields of what was then the Russian Empire. What he found reminded him of South Wales: rich seams of coal, abundant iron ore and huge industrial potential. Hughes brought Welsh engineers, miners and ironworkers with him and founded a new ironworks and settlement. The town that grew around it became known as Hughesovka – literally "Hughes's Town". Over time, the name evolved into Donetsk (you can see the ironworks in the image - before the Russians destroyed it). The industrial community that grew around Hughes's settlement would eventually give rise to one of Ukraine's most famous football clubs – FC Shakhtar Donetsk. Shakhtar, appropriately enough, means "coal miner". So the story of Merthyr does not end in South Wales. The expertise developed in its furnaces helped build an industrial city more than 2,000 miles away on the edge of the Eurasian steppe. Today, Donetsk is known around the world for very different reasons, but its origins lie, surprisingly, in the ironworks, engineers and workers of Merthyr Tydfil. Not bad for a football club badge featuring a fifth-century martyr.

In one of the most picturesque corners of England lies a village of 14,000 people represented by a football team known as the Mitres, with modest local success but bags – or perhaps hatfuls – of personality. They currently sit in Southern League Division One South and are knocking on the door of the Premier Division above. They narrowly lost in the play-offs last season and finished sixth this season. Another big push next year could get them into the seventh tier of English football, just one step away from National League South and the exposure that would bring. There is one main story to tell here. The mitre. The bishop's hat. But it is so much more than that. So let's pay the Mitres the respect they deserve and #GetTheBadgeIn. Let's start with the name – Bishop's Cleeve. "Cleeve" is derived from the Old English clif, meaning cliff, and was first recorded nearly 1,200 years ago. A cliff because the settlement sits at the foot of a number of large hills and escarpments, all part of the wider Cotswold Escarpment – a limestone ridge that has historically helped separate England and Wales. Cleeve Hill and Nottingham Hill both offer excellent views across the Severn Valley and into nearby Wales. Its natural defensive features were not lost on the Iron Age Britons 2,500 years ago. At the summit of Nottingham Hill sits The Camp, one of the country's largest Iron Age hill forts. It spans around 120 acres and, in its heyday, comprised several rows of earthworks topped with timber palisades. Inside stood roundhouses alongside storage pits for grain and livestock enclosures. Access to the site would have been funnelled through a narrow entrance easily overlooked by the defenders. Today the local golf course has been built into one corner of its remains... clearly the locals still appreciate a good bunker... (...I'm quite proud of that). Its importance was recognised by the Romans when they arrived, and they built a fortification nearby. When the Saxons came, they established the village at the base of the cliff, and they were the first to record its name. In the ninth century it gained the title "Bishop's" as the land fell under the control of the Bishop of Worcester, and with that came the bishop's mitre that adorns the club's badge today. The Bishops' badge has the mitre on top and ten red spots which come from the family crest of Godfrey Giffard, an influential medieval Bishop of Worcester whose heraldic symbols were later adopted by the diocese. The red circles were originally a family emblem but later came to be associated with the Ten Commandments in Christian tradition. So, on that note, let's talk church for a bit and explain exactly what this means. The Diocese of Worcester encompasses 169 parishes, including Bishop's Cleeve. It was established during the Anglo-Saxon period around 680 CE. While the internal structure of the Church may be enough to bore most modern people, it was exceptionally important for most of its history. The Church wasn't just an old building you visited occasionally for a funeral. It was the region's largest landowner and employer. Local peasants would often have been required to work at least one day a week – sometimes more – on church-owned land for free. The produce grown was then taken to the local tithe barn, with the tithe being a compulsory annual payment made to the Church. Today, that tithe barn, with its beautiful timber ceilings and stonework, hosts weddings and Zumba classes. For most of its history, however, it housed the surplus produce from church lands before it was sold, generating considerable wealth for the Church. Failure to work on church lands or pay the tithe could result in a one-way ticket to hell – or so people were told. The Church reinforced this message through sermons, stained-glass windows and paintings depicting the fiery eternity awaiting anyone who neglected their duties. Not a bad little business model. It ensured that the Church remained at the centre of economic and political power for centuries. Indeed, it was the exploitation of this system by Rome that contributed to England's first great "Brexit". The Bishopric of Worcester, for example, was at times held by absentee Italian bishops who never set foot in England but nevertheless collected the income it generated. In that environment, I suspect even I, an ardent pro-European, would have found myself siding with the Brexiters of the day, demanding that England leave this rotten system and forge a new direction – and a new religion – of its own. The Church of England was born during the English Reformation of the 1530s, helped in no small part by Henry VIII's determination to marry Anne Boleyn and his frustration at the Pope's refusal to grant him a divorce. The Bishopric of Worcester subsequently fell to a man named John Hooper, a native of nearby Gloucester. As a young man he embraced the new ideas of Protestantism and travelled across Europe to learn from its leading thinkers. He returned only once England had begun to follow a similar path. He was appointed bishop and quickly set about reforming the diocese. During an early inspection, he discovered that of the 311 clergy under his authority, 168 could not recite the Ten Commandments. By all accounts, he was a good bishop. He sent the profits of the bishopric to the Crown and lived modestly. He also married – something Catholic bishops were not permitted to do. Furthermore, he wrote to the King's advisers expressing concern about rising living costs and the hardship they were causing the poor. However, all of this changed with the accession of Mary I, Henry VIII's Catholic daughter. She slammed the country's religious reforms into reverse, and radicals like Hooper quickly found themselves in her sights. He was removed from office, imprisoned for his Protestant beliefs and eventually burned at the stake. Because it was an extremely cold and windy February morning, the wood used for the pyre failed to catch fire properly. The fire had to be relit multiple times, making the execution a drawn out and agonising ordeal. The site today in Gloucester marked with a monument to this 'martyr'. He was one of around 300 Protestants executed during Mary's reign, earning her the nickname "Bloody Mary" – a reputation preserved by generations of Protestant historians, who were perhaps less eager to discuss the even greater number of deaths associated with rulers such as Henry VIII and Elizabeth I. Today, Bishop's Cleeve is a much more peaceful place, with little religious tension in the air. The only thing in the air nowadays is the modern aerospace industry. The nearby industrial estate hosts a small but significant cluster of aviation companies, including the American giant General Electric. From its base in Bishop's Cleeve, GE helps maintain Emirates' vast fleet of Boeing 777 aircraft. The company is responsible for electrical systems that keep these workhorses of the modern world airborne and safe. So there you have it. Bishop's Cleeve take quite a story onto the pitch every Saturday – from Iron Age fort builders to religious reformers to aerospace engineers.