His friend(s) call him Boomerang Wiley – he always comes back. But he packs an almighty wallop if you get him wrong. His career has seen him take in the bawdiness of Blackpool and the Catton-ness of Cardiff, before returning back to the Midlands. Wiley tells Tepid about his work in the community, his Sov flatmates and why he’s done crossing the line.
When Ash Wiley last gave an interview in 2015, his career seemed on an upward curve. He was engaged to stripper Anita B Banged, had his own plush Blackpool condo and a range of cuddly bananas. However, a move to Cardiff changed everything. In a few short months of playing for the Bluebirds, Banged’s bags were packed after discovering Wiley had bedded a 17-year-old lesbian vampire. His career at Cardiff stalled to the extent he spent matchdays working in Argos. Worse, his steadfast friendship with fellow curmudgeon Derrie Catton crumbled like the damp ceiling in their apartment. It was no surprise when Karen Wiley opened the door of her home one fateful Friday to see Wiley, banana in one hand and suitcase in the other.
“There’s some issues I need to clear up here,” Wiley tells me, frantically flicking his hair in his Walsall apartment. “First with Anita, she’d gotten too thin. Everyone knows I like a garden with a lot of rockery, if you get me. I kept buying her Flumps but she wouldn’t have it. Secondly, I wanted the job in Argos – I’m a sucker for the pens. And thirdly…” his voice cracks. “Well, let’s just say I had to get out of that environment.”
If Cardiff and Catton were a perfect fit, Wales became a nightmare for Wiley. Months of alleged domestic abuse occurred, whether it be plates left unwashed, food consumed or games consoles switched off. “If Hollywood tried to make a movie of it, producers would call it too grim,” Wiley shudders. His form on the pitch suffered, too – where at Sovereign he was indispensable, at Cardiff the Welsh fans were unforgiving of his scuttling performances, nicknaming him ‘The Crab’, ‘Pinchy’ and, simply, ‘C**t’. The nadir came when Cardiff faced Sovereign, now managed by Walter Zenga, in which Wiley was substituted, the first time he had left the pitch involuntarily for over eight years. “The away fans lapped it up. At Sovereign, I wouldn’t leave the pitch,” Wiley says. “One time we had a home game on the Tuesday, so on Saturday at 5 I just stayed on the pitch for a few days. I just took a sturdy fleece.”
Wiley looks down as he recounts the story, but there has been light at the end of the tunnel. His partner, Matt Palmer, frequently squeezes Wiley’s hand while he recounts his woe and offers plentiful supplies of tea and weed. The two became an item shortly after Wiley’s return to Wednesfield, with Wiley moving in to Palmer’s pad. “I know, you’d think I’d learnt a lesson from living with a Sov player before,” Wiley comments. “But it felt right this time. Next time you interview me I’ll be shacked up with San!”
With his personal life mended, as well as his career – he’s now pulling up trees, sometimes literally, for Walsall in League One – Wiley felt it was the right time to start giving something back. He and Palmer began volunteering at the local hospital, assisting elderly patients with physiotherapy, will rewriting and rectal wiping. “It’s been highly rewarding…sometimes literally,” Wiley comments. “But helping out old people has made me and Matt realise how lucky we are. The only downside is if we argue there’s not a bed for me there…bloody NHS!”
It’s not all being plain sailing since joining the Saddlers, however. After attending the notoriously bacchanalian wedding of former manager Neil Jackson, an extremely zoomed-in shot of Wiley’s limp love gun did the rounds in every tabloid. Former lovers were contacted to confirm if it was ‘little Wiley’, while Paddy Power used the image every time Jose Mourinho acted like a ‘dick’. “I took it for Matt. He was delivering pizza, had his car stolen and needed something to cheer him up,” Wiley says. “I didn’t realise I’d put it in the WhatsApp group. It was everywhere. I’d walk into Sainsbury’s and I could hear people commenting and looking…I guess I should have put trousers on, but still.”
Walsall instructed him to do a series of educational talks on the matter. Wiley’s presentation, The Line, saw him discuss what constitutes as overtly sexual behaviour. “People cross the line every day. Sometimes they’ll talk about crossing the line so much the joke begins to wear a bit thin. Although I don’t think it’s gotten to that stage yet,” Wiley says. “I think a lot of people were touched…but then my talk helped them, ha!”
Wiley now seems in a good place – Walsall. He’s come a long way from the boy that left home, went to Blackpool, went to Cardiff then scurried home again. He’s learnt from his mistakes, but he’s not completely changed. I ask if he still trades blows with Fraz and if he ever regrets it. “Why, it’s not like he’s f**king dead, is it?” he asks.
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