A Love Letter to Birmingham (The Commonwealth Version)

I’ve written love letters to Birmingham before. Mainly around how they could try harder to make this relationship work. How our love is slow-burning and often complicated. About how it’s definitely “you, not me” with the problem. I even broke up with Birmingham, when in January 2020, we moved away from the 0121 area (retained a “B” postcode though). Yet something has always pulled me back. I just can’t quite make that final break. The latest thing to pull me back has been hosting the 2022 Commonwealth Games. And yes, I’ve fallen head over heels, all over again.

Like most Brummies, I was a bit cynical about Birmingham hosting the games. After all, at the time of the announcement, much of the city centre was nothing more than a building site. Grand schemes and plans left Birmingham looking and feeling, well, unfinished. A poor relation to other cities in the UK that had pulled themselves together a lot earlier. Our tram network was announced with great fanfare. No-one told the trams of course, which disappeared without a trace in some kind of Brummie Bermuda Triangle.

And we could only imagine where we would host Commonwealth events. Did we have a world-class athletics stadium? Well, we had an athletics stadium, which was a start. Cocks Moor Woods or Sparkhill Baths were never going to cut the mustard for swimming and diving events. We had two arenas, used to hosting big events. But beach volleyball? Birmingham is about as far away from the beach as you can get. Would we have to trek to Weston Super Mare?

And yet. Birmingham has indeed pulled it out of the bag. The tired old Alexander Stadium has been transformed into a venue worthy of world-class athletics. We have a brand new Aquatics Centre in Sandwell. And the old Smithfields market site has temporarily become Brum Angeles, with outdoor sports courts and beach volleyball courts writhing with Brazilian rhythms. Brightly coloured banners hang from every lamppost, and strategically camouflage the ever-present scaffolding. Audiences are treated to music, dance and spoken word, with huge screens showing key Commonwealth events. Accents from far and wide mix beautifully with the dulcet Brummie tones. The opening ceremony is a big, brash and bonkers celebration of all things Birmingham.

The weather helps. Falling nicely just after the extreme heatwave of mid July, Birmingham’s blue skies and magnificent sunsets (Brumsets are a thing of beauty) transform the city. Crowds are allowed to gather at Festival Sites without having to huddle under umbrellas. Restaurants and bars throw as many tables on pavements as allowed, taking advantage of road closures. Sun seekers sprawl out in the grassy Pigeon Park, and slather themselves in sun cream at Smithfields.

Mr Fletche and I soak up the vibes with no particular plans to attend any events. We missed the boat on booking tickets – and then COVID reared it’s ugly head again (COVID scores so far: Mr Fletche 2, Me 0). But in a twist of fate, we find ourselves at the beach volleyball finals, thanks to the kindness of Dave from Dorset with two tickets going spare. My eyes fill with tears as Vanuatu secure a bronze medal over the Kiwis. We cheer on Canada, all the way to gold and the top spot of the podium. Suddenly, I am gushing with love for beach volleyball, Vanuatu, Smithfields, Commonwealth Games, Dave from Dorset and most of all, Birmingham.

So with the Commonwealth Games packing up their flags and elite sportspeople flying back to their homes all over the world, what do we have to shout about now in Brum?

Kong is Back

Back in 1972, Birmingham – for no explicable reason – had an 18ft fibreglass sculpture of King Kong outside the Bull Ring Shopping Centre. Despite only being present for four months the city reminisces fondly about the days that Kong ruled the city. And now he’s back – 5ft taller, mooning at passersby on Constitution Hill and lording it over a pop-up park with street food and bars courtesy of nearby Hockley Social Club. Originally planned to coincide with the duration of the Commonwealth Games, are we going to let King Kong slip through our fingers once more?

The Floozie is Flowing

Every European city has an iconic fountain. Rome has Trevi Fountain. Barcelona has the dancing fountains of Montjuic. Paris has the Trocadero. Brum has the Floozie in the Jacuzzi*. Except she wasn’t even in a functioning jacuzzi for a long time. For a while, she was a floozie in a garden of flowers, cheekily re-christened The Lady Garden. And then in October 2021, she disappeared altogether. But she’s back, freely flowing; a beautiful centrepiece to Victoria Square, surrounded by some of our most elegant old architecture.

* Not her real name. The fountain, sculpted by Dhruva Mistry, is officially called “The River”, and the floozie is “The Goddess”. But it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

The Trams are Running

Oh, the excitement when we found out that Birmingham was finally going to have a tram system. Linking Birmingham to Wolverhampton, it would be an efficient, reliable way of getting across the city and beyond. Except it wasn’t. Cracks appeared, both in the trams and in the patience of Brummie commuters. But slowly, surely, the green light has been given for services to resume, and locals are once again getting used to jumping out of the way of the silent blue carriages. Major engineering work is afoot to extend the line, all the way down to Digbeth, and new stops now carry passengers out to leafy Edgbaston village.

Two Bulls Are Better Than One

Birmingham’s link to the bull dates back to the 12th century. Nope, the Bull Ring hasn’t always been a shopping mall housing all your favourite chain stores in one handy place. Once, it was home to an actual Bull Ring, an iron hoop used to tie up bulls before slaughter. But we gloss over that minor messy and bloody point. The bull however, became Brum’s de facto spirit animal. Laurence Broderick’s bronze bull sculpture – the Guardian – stands in front of the shopping centre entrance in Rotunda Square. This proud, strong animal has a wardrobe full of funky outfits. A bit like Mannekin Pis in Brussels, but a bit bigger. And with four legs. And horns.

But now there’s a new Bull in town. The Raging Bull makes The Guardian look like the “before” in a makeover show. Standing almost 33 feet high, with flaring nostrils and angry red eyes, this new bull was the star of the Commonwealth Games opening ceremony. Temporarily located in Centenary Square, there was uproar amongst Brummies when we found out it was going to melted down into scrap metal after the Games. Petitions abounded. We love a good petition. And now, Birmingham City Council have agreed that Raging Bull should become a permanent fixture. If we can just find somewhere indoors with a high enough ceiling. Raging Bull may be many things, but he’s not weather-resistant.

I’m sure The Guardian must have a waterproof, wellington and sou’wester combo somewhere in his wardrobe.

More than just Peaky Blinders

Naturally, Peaky Blinders has featured heavily in our marketing. Even our amazing Commonwealth Games volunteers donned PB-style caps (although no-one has confirmed if there are indeed razors sewn into the peaks). But the recent attention brought by the Games has shown that there is so much more to Brum than Tommy, Arthur and Polly. Our diversity and our youth. Our music and our stories. A rich heritage of creators and manufacturers. A city of 1000 trades.

And yes, the city with more canals than Venice. Did we ever mention that?