The story of England's first black professional footballer comes from between the goalposts.
In 1930, a remarkable man was laid to rest in an unmarked grave at Edlington Cemetery. His death came after some years of relentless toil in the mines, sickness gnawing at his body, with poverty and addiction adding to a tough life. To most, it might have seemed like the quiet passing of an ordinary man who had battled with the harsh realities of working life in Yorkshire in the interwar years.
Yet, the mourners assembled at his funeral painted a different picture: teammates, sports club delegates, and those who had once marvelled at his athletic prowess stood in tribute, an assembly that spoke of a legacy far greater than the anonymity that followed.
Yet, as time moved on, so did the memory of his feats, gradually slipping into the shadows. It would take the resolve of later generations to rescue his story, to rediscover a life that defied limits and spanned the heights of athleticism. This was the farewell to the world’s first Black professional footballer, an athlete for the ages—Arthur Wharton.
Arthur "Kwame" Wharton’s story started in 1865, in Jamestown, Ghana, the son of a Scottish-Grenadian missionary and a Ghanaian Fante royal. Wharton arrived in England with the intent of following his father's spiritual path. What unfolded was different: Wharton didn’t just step into England, he sprinted his way into its sporting consciousness. Whether it was with a cricket bat, rugby ball, bicycle, or a pair of sprinting spikes, Wharton moved like few others could.
In July 1886, at Stamford Bridge, he carved out his place in history. As a young man of 20, he incinerated the competition and became the first man ever to cross the 100-yard dash line in a searing 10 seconds flat. A time that made him the original World’s Fastest Man and the Amateur Athletic Association’s first black champion. His record stood for 30 years. You’d think a feat like that would rewrite what was possible, smashing barriers and opening doors for others to follow. But history, as ever, has its blind spots. Wharton’s name slipped into the recesses—a legacy more whispered than celebrated.
Wharton’s first steps into football were with Darlington, where he took up the gloves as their first-choice goalkeeper. But from the outset, he was no average custodian; he was a spectacle. Wharton’s repertoire was headlined by his cannon-like punched clearances—so fierce they might as well have been crafted for a prizefight.
Yet, it was more than just raw power. Wharton brought a swagger to the goal that turned each save into an exhibition. Picture this: a forward bearing down on goal only for Wharton to be crouching nonchalantly in the corner, eyes glinting with mischief. Just when the crowd tensed up, he’d explode into action, that famous pace sweeping him off his line to steal the ball away.
And when the urge struck, Wharton didn’t just stick to stopping goals; he scored them too. Swapping his position between the sticks for the wing, he’d blaze down the pitch, completely uncatchable, before coolly slotting one past the keeper. It was his way of reminding everyone that his ability couldn’t be boxed into one role. Fans who gathered didn’t just come to watch football—they came to watch Arthur Wharton, the keeper who stared down strikers, then snatched the ball with unmatched speed. Tales of his exploits flooded columns and echoed in pubs long after the final whistle.
The Northern Echo once dubbed him “the goalkeeper with the prodigious punch,” declaring him “without doubt one of the most capable goal custodians in the country.” And yet his otherness, his race, still punctuated the sidelines of the commentary.
Preston North End called next, with its ambitions and FA Cup pursuits. But more prominence brought more prejudice. The constant racially motivated comments and pointed scepticism might have toppled others, but Wharton’s reply was always the same—unerring and unrivalled displays on the field. One journalist, compounded by awe after a match, described him as offering “one of the best exhibitions of goalkeeping I have seen for a long time.” And so Wharton navigated football as a pioneer, his successes both a beacon and a reminder of how much he had to outperform just to be seen as equal.
In 1888, Wharton took on new adventures, stepping into the world of professional running in Sheffield and even set a record for cycling between Preston and Blackburn, for fun. But football’s pull was undeniable. By 1889, he was back, penning a new chapter in the sport's history as England’s first Black professional footballer when he signed with Rotherham Town. Starting as a forward, he made an explosive debut by bagging a hat-trick. But soon, his versatility shone through. When called to stand between the posts during a match against Burton, he delivered a classic standout performance that secured him Rotherham’s number one spot.
During his stint at Rotherham, the club claimed back-to-back Midland League titles. Yet, it wasn’t just victories that defined him—it was the moments that left fans speechless. One Sheffield supporter recounted a save so audacious it became folklore: Wharton leapt, clutched the crossbar, trapped the ball with his legs, and sent three charging forwards—Ingham, Mumford, and Bennett—tumbling into the net. The fans, lifelong spectators, would never see anything like it again.
Through all this, Wharton’s talent blazed despite the ever-present undercurrent of prejudice. He set standards that reverberated long past his playing days and broke further ground as the first Black player in the Football League’s top division, with Sheffield United. His journey didn’t stop there; he circled back to Rotherham and played for clubs like Stalybridge Rovers, where he lined up alongside a young Herbert Chapman, the future Arsenal legend. Wharton’s football story ended in 1902, his retirement marking the close of a career that pushed boundaries and laid down a legacy the world is finally beginning to rediscover and celebrate.
Arthur Wharton’s post-football years were marked by hard work and unshakeable resilience. Even as a professional footballer, Wharton balanced the rigours of sport with managing the Albert Tavern and Plough Inn in Masbrough, seamlessly shifting between publican duties and matchdays. When his football career wrapped up in 1902, Wharton swapped the roar of crowds for the clatter of mining tools, taking up back-breaking work at Edlington Pit—a far cry from the glory of the game.
By 1915, the pursuit of stability took him to Edlington, Doncaster, where he worked as a haulage hand at Yorkshire Main Colliery. The outbreak of World War I saw Wharton embody his lifelong role as a protector, serving in the Home Guard 1915-1918. His love for sport never waned; well into his 50s, he played cricket with a youthful spark that drew admiration. Observers noted that even then, “he could catch pigeons.” A man of ageless agility and fierce spirit.
Wharton wasn't just an athlete—he was a pillar of his community. During the 1926 General Strike, he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow miners, enduring months of shared struggle. His grit and compassion were no strangers to those who knew him; in his prime, Wharton once played seven charity matches across ten days, braving waterlogged pitches and wearing cumbersome, heavy boots. Why? To support the needy in Darlington. This was Wharton, the athlete whose career transcended the pitch, a man who fought not just for wins, but for those around him.
Wharton’s life is a testament to unmatched talent and ceaseless resilience. In a time when talent alone could rarely cut through society’s entrenched prejudices, Wharton’s gifts forced people to pay attention. Yet, the fact that he had to surpass exceptional simply to be acknowledged speaks volumes about the barriers he faced. In an era where being "good" wasn’t enough, Wharton stood out as a trailblazer, not just succeeding but redefining the boundaries for future generations.
The challenges Wharton overcame remain relevant; while progress has been made, remnants of those barriers persist. His story is as much about the racial and social hurdles he cleared as it is about his unyielding drive and groundbreaking achievements. To be recognised as the best is notable; to be the first is extraordinary and often requires unparalleled courage. Wharton embodied both.
His story is one that resonates with ex-Reading, Newcastle, and West Ham goalkeeper Shaka Hislop, who helped found Show Racism the Red Card.
“While certainly football and goalkeeping have come a very long way since Arthur Wharton was playing in the late 1800s, I don’t think it has come as far as it should in the 125 years since”, he explained to Goalkeeper.com.
“When I joined Reading FC in 1992 I was one of only two Black goalkeepers, alongside David James, in the entire football league. The only black goalkeeper I was aware of who preceded us was Alex Williams at Manchester City.
“While there are a greater number of black goalkeepers in the league today, I still feel there is a level of stereotyping, and a lack of opportunity for young, aspiring black goalkeepers. Stereotyping both around the physicality of black kids, and the continued assumption that goalkeepers don’t need to have the same physical assets of outfield players.”
The change, in Hislop's eyes, needs to also be more infrastructural.
“I also believe there is a greater need for black goalkeeper coaches who can go into underserved communities, enabling young black kids to better see themselves as goalkeepers.”
Today, the fight to ensure Arthur Wharton's story isn't just known but celebrated has powerful advocates. One of the leading voices is Shaun Campbell, founder of the Arthur Wharton Foundation. His journey into Wharton’s legacy began with an unexpected moment during a Black History Month event. There, Campbell picked up a brochure with the line, “Arthur Wharton, the UK’s first Black footballer.”
He pauses as he recounts that moment: “I was just staring at this, thinking, who is this Arthur Wharton? How do I not know him?” It struck a chord, the kind that leaves a lasting echo. Like so many others, Campbell felt the injustice of such a pivotal story being hidden in history's margins. “I thought, you know, I've got to pay a tribute to this guy,”That realisation sparked a mission—a mission to pull Wharton's legacy out from the shadows and into the spotlight where it belongs.
For Shaun Campbell, the deeper he dug into Arthur Wharton’s life, the more the emotional gravity of it all hit home. “The last game Arthur Wharton ever played was against Manchester United, back when they were called Newton Heath,” Campbell explains, underscoring the immense historical footprint Wharton left behind. And here’s one for the pub quizzes: “The first ever game at Anfield? Arthur Wharton was in goal.”
Wharton didn’t just show up—he was at the heart of English football’s key moments. He played for Newcastle and District before it evolved into Newcastle United, moving with the tide of clubs that now form the game’s most storied legacies. Campbell highlights these remarkable connections: Chelsea, Newcastle, Manchester United, Liverpool—Wharton was there, woven into their early chapters.
“Arthur was touted to play for England, but there's no doubt that the colour of his skin would not have allowed that,” Campbell notes, the unfair truth slicing through. The best goalkeeper of his time, yet England’s doors stayed closed. Talent wasn’t enough to hurdle all racial lines drawn back then, keeping Wharton from wearing the Three Lions and reaching the heights his skill deserved.
In 1997, decades after his passing, an unmarked grave finally received its headstone—a poignant symbol of long overdue recognition. His posthumous induction into the Football Hall of Fame in Manchester 2003 and the unveiling of his statue at St. George’s Park in 2014 further cement his place in history. This statue, framed within St George’s Cross, stands as both a tribute and a reminder: of how far we’ve come and the work left to do in celebrating the Black athletes who continue to shape football.
“The stories of Arthur Wharton, and other history-makers, need to be better told. Football, indeed sport, and further individual sports, has always rewarded merit, not perfectly, but certainly better than society has done. Telling the stories of the history of football would properly highlight that football has always had diversity, and would better break down the stereotyping that persists today, in both sport and society”, continued Hislop.
“Having more goalkeepers of colour would better exemplify that sport, much like life, is diverse and welcoming. That stereotyping is restricting, and unfair. Having more goalkeepers of colour makes the wider point that players can only be judged on their talents, and not on a stereotype or cliche.”
Honouring Wharton now can’t erase the hardships he faced, but it does symbolise a shift towards acknowledging those who paved the way. His legacy serves not only as a beacon of inspiration for future generations but as a call to remember the Whartons of the past and ask ourselves: How many more stories remain lesser known in unmarked graves?
