Hereford FC: Halo — Terrace Edition

Words: Tom Reed

Images: Tom Reed

Shot on film and digital where stated.

You can imagine the designer of Manchester United’s new stadium spilling Huel all over his trousers when supporter group The 1958 reacted to the concept visuals

“It’s circus like aesthetic disregards the club’s working class origins and the identity of a fanbase that spans generations” said the 1958, busy organising protests against the clubs ownership model.

A chocolate flavoured complete meal in a bottle is going leave a mark and think about the wasted 26 essential vitamins and minerals.

“Why does the new Man Utd stadium look like the skyline entertainment tent at Butlins?” read a post on X but at least the coats are red at the English holiday park.

You could also picture the glowing crimson structure as base for the Covenant in the computer game Halo, except there is no Master Chief on the side of the 1958.

Why does the new Man Utd stadium look like the Skyline entertainment tent at Butlins?... pic.twitter.com/mMKgFQfgW5
— Steve Dawson (@TheSteveDawson) March 11, 2025

Perhaps most pressing were the plans for the a new public plaza “twice the size of Trafalgar Square” and with Lord Foster mentioning the new stadium as a “global destination” you do have to consider the number of selfie-stick plonkers, who might swap Leicester Square for the Red Devils’ piazza.

Either way you can sympathise with the 1958, whose succinct statement called the new stadium project one of “spectacle over substance”.

But fear not legacy fans, because at Hereford on Saturday there was a big space in front of the train station but no fan plaza and a single travelling Darlington fan swaying in the morning sun.

He was wearing double denim, drunk already. Not deserving of a punch from the Hereford lads but a fucking medal for having travelled from Darlo and being that pissed by mid-morning in one of England’s best old-school football cities.

While Foster and Partners plan a “processional way” at the new Manchester United stadium, Hereford already have one, which is a short stroll from the station to their wonderful Edgar Street ground.

©Tom Reed/ Terrace Edition. JJB Sports. Hereford. Digital.

Up past “Mr Chips” and an actual JJB Sports, whose parent company went bust in 2012.

At the Orange Tree you can get a bostin pint of Black Country Ale and a quiet, considered chat about the match to come without contrived chants for attention.

At Edgar Street, which has miraculously escaped the commercialisation of the English game, the fans are like an undiscovered Amazon tribe, doing their own thing and smiling and getting drunk on their on version of Ayahuasca which is the local cider.

Huge proper floodlights loom over, as supporters spill out from “Radford’s Bar” named after the legendary FA Cup scorer and they can have a few more pints as the ticket prices aren’t going to break the bank.

In the queue for the ticket box, there’s a couple of teenagers giddy at going on the home terrace whispering “just say Meadow End” as they prep themselves for a purchase.

©Tom Reed/ Terrace Edition. Meadow End. Hereford FC. Edgar Street floodlights. Digital.

And giddy they should be as they are about to stand on a curved terrace that hasn’t changed since Radford got the duffle coated kids on the pitch in ’72.

There came a time it seems, likely after Brian Clough retired, when club backroom staff emerged from their cupboards, emboldened and began to shape the game. Having spent so long waiting around in airports, in conference centres and hotels, football ground environments began to emerge that were similar.

But we never asked for nice and fans can swerve a modern day form of enclosure where community assets test the pockets by escaping to non-League.

Fortunately, Hereford manages to be basic and absolutely beautiful at the same time.

The kids play down the front of the Meadow End and will eventually move up the terrace to be with the singers when the time comes. They’ll know all the words to the chants.

©Tom Reed/ Terrace Edition. Meadow End. Hereford FC. On film.

If you want food, there’s a pie hut. There’s no elevation of players to gods, they’ll get applause if they do something decent. The game’s 90 minutes and afterwards the fans will be off into the town, filling the tills of the pubs and rapping the windows of the JJB to see if they have any deadstock Adidas Predators.

If you’re standing next to an irritant on the terrace at Hereford you can just move, if you’re feeling cold you can jig about. There’s a feeling of belonging and ownership.

Hereford should be the global destination, not Man Utd, but it’s great that it isn’t.