Zak Vyner would never have wanted to be the poster boy for this, but the cap fits. The academy kid, the boyhood fan, the longest-serving player; it all mattered. And then Vyner left for AFC Wrexham in January, a cut-price fee because his contract was up in the summer.
It was Vyner’s first words as a Wrexham player that stung the most. Asked why he had left Bristol City after six straight seasons of Championship football, to cross the border, Vyner was sure: “It’s the ambition. I think the project is well underway and you can’t help but admire it from afar.”
The undertones were unintended, but bruised Bristol City supporters extrapolated them anyway: that club is going places: (this one isn’t); I gave my all (and for what?); I played well (but where did it really get us?). In an exit statement, Vyner described himself as “one of you [fans] now”. To which the sarcastic reply might be: unlucky, pal.
Bristol City supporters rarely get angry; apathy would be a far more accurate diagnosis. If anything, there is an argument that the fanbase has been a little too passive over the last six years. But in recent weeks, mutiny has bubbled over. At the Sheffield Wednesday game in January, “Sack the board” chants were audible. Owner Steve Lansdown and technical director Brian Tinnion are both coming in for serious flak.
For his part, Lansdown voiced his annoyance at the criticism. He pointed to the “hand in my pocket” investment over many years and the necessary long-termism: “People think we just do nothing – absolute twaddle… They’ve got to understand that we can’t do everything straight away.”
There is no crisis at Bristol City; not really. They sold Vyner and Anis Mehmeti in January, but money was reinvested. There is much doubt as to whether manager Gerhard Struber will work out and they have only won three of their last 12 games. They are mid-table in the Championship. Again, none of this is deeply unacceptable.
But it is not only a crisis that gets people angry. Bristol City, their fans say, have got completely stuck. In their last six seasons, Bristol City have won between 15 and 17 league games. They took 22 points from their first 12 league matches in 2025-26, just to raise the heart rate a little. It is 28 from 24 since.
It is not the hope that kills you, but hope only as a prelude to eventual disappointment sure wears you down. And here: a 13-game unbeaten run to go fifth in 2018-19, fourth in December 2019, third in November 2020, a current run of five straight seasons with a higher league finish than the previous year, a playoff place last season (they lost 6-0 on aggregate), the start to this campaign. Every time this team moves forward, it is magnetised back to mediocrity.
Expectation without resources or reason to believe equals entitlement; that doesn’t fit the bill here. Bristol City routinely post the highest revenues of non-parachute Championship clubs. This is the biggest club in English football’s bridesmaid city, ranked eighth according to population and god knows where according to football performance.
Nor can anyone claim that Lansdown has not spent money – a rough estimate is just shy of £300m over his long tenure. He built a new stadium that is certainly magnificent. The club regularly post significant losses that Lansdown permits, ostensibly through generosity and his connection to the club and the city.
None of that erases the question: where are Bristol City going other than nowhere? Clubs repeatedly talk about identities, but what is that here? Over the last 15 years they have had eight chief executives and nine managers. Fifteen years ago, they were mid-table in the Championship. They still are. All that money, all that effort, all that time, all that wastage.
There is a temptation to caveat supporter anger with a reflection of the Championship’s tilted stage; parachute payment clubs clearly have an advantage. But really, that does not wash here.
Look at the current top seven clubs in the Championship: Coventry City, Hull City, Ipswich Town, Millwall, Middlesbrough, Wrexham, Derby County. Three of those have been in League One since Bristol City were. Three others finished below them last season. The exception, Coventry, have a lower annual revenue. Why is promotion always someone else’s realistic dream?
I wonder if mid-table finishes create their own problems. Dealing with repeated seasons of the same experience is hard to process as a supporter as ennui loops to apathy and back. Loyalty disallows you giving up; Bristol City are still likely to have 22,000 season ticket holders next season.
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But repetition is also hard for the clubs too. You tell yourself that better is just around the corner; there is never enough going wrong to rip everything up. We have seen it repeatedly: plight can often be a prelude to progress beyond where you started. At Bristol City, the opposite. The entire identity inadvertently becomes simply being a Championship football club.
There will be those, as ever, who warn that supporters should be careful what they wish for: local billionaires do not grow on trees. Which is both absolutely correct and yet misses the point. At Leicester City on Tuesday evening, there were barely 300 away supporters and they watched a performance with no modicum of positivity: 2-0 down early on, missed penalty, more chants against the club’s hierarchy.
The answer: there are no easy answers. But one thing is certain, and those in positions of power must learn to accept it: this club, and these supporters, need to believe in something. Hearing that things cannot change immediately is no good when nothing ever seems to change at all. Otherwise we can all meet here in another three years, ploughing ruefully over the same old ground.
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