Long before the roar of modern stadiums, Leicester was already alive with an earlier era of sporting obsession. It didn’t involve a grass pitch or a traditional ball game, but rather four small wheels and a polished wooden floor. This was Rinkomania—a Victorian social explosion that transformed the city’s landscape in the late 19th century, weaving itself unexpectedly into the fabric of local athletic history. The revolution began with Plimpton’s Patent and the thrill of the glide. While ice skating had been a seasonal Leicestershire pastime for centuries on frozen ponds, lakes and rivers, it was the 1863 invention of the rocking roller skate by James Plimpton that changed everything. Unlike the clunky, straight-line skates of the past, these allowed for curves, turns, and elegance. By the 1870s, Leicester was ready to glide, and the city’s grand halls quickly became the new theatres of athleticism and social spectacle.
The jewel in Leicester’s skating crown was Rutland Hall on Rutland Street. For the Victorian middle class, rinking was more than exercise; it was the ultimate social mixer. In an era of strict chaperonage, the rink was one of the few places where young men and women could socialise with a degree of freedom, moving to the rhythm of a live brass band. The atmosphere was thick with the smell of floor wax and gaslights as the roar of wooden wheels on timber filled the air. Local celebrity Tertius Picton Blakesley—the King of the Rinks—would speed past at twenty miles per hour, while gruelling Five Mile Championships and novelty handicap races drew thousands of spectators. It was within this vibrant, experimental atmosphere that the worlds of rinking and emerging ball games spectacularly collided. A tantalising glimpse into this forgotten era comes from a local newspaper report from 1882.
This report detailed a remarkable event: a novelty football match played on roller skates at the Rutland Hall rink. This wasn’t a formal league fixture; the city’s most famous club would not even be officially founded for another two years. Instead, it was a playful, audacious spectacle where players attempted to control a leather ball while navigating the slippery turns of the rink on four wheels. The kicks would have been ungainly, the passes often overshot, and the collisions undoubtedly frequent and comical for the cheering Victorian crowd.
This match highlights that before modern sports became the structured, global phenomena we know today, they were flexible, adaptable games, ready to be tried anywhere. As the craze peaked, the city sought out larger, purpose-built arenas to house its sporting ambitions. On Monday, 22 February 1909, the Empress Roller Rink had its grand opening to much fanfare. Far from the central streets, it was located on a plot of unused land that was situated in the ‘V’ between Aylestone Road and Welford Road. Facing the prison and sitting adjacent to the Leicester Tigers rugby ground, the Empress became a landmark of the city’s sporting quarter. The first manager of the rink was the well known and respected professional speed skater, Tertius Picton Blakesley, whose expertise helped transition the city’s love for skating into a new century of professional competition.
By the turn of the 20th century, the initial mania had cooled, but the infrastructure it left behind shaped Leicester forever. The grand halls built for skating became cinemas and factories, but the spirit of the Empress and Rutland Hall remained anchored in the city’s geography. The same crowds that watched the roller gladiators at Rutland Hall would soon flock to the city’s outdoor grounds, drawn by the same desire for community and excitement.
This cultural thread stretched well into the modern era at the Granby Halls complex. From the mid-20th century, the Empress Hall enjoyed a golden era as a premier destination for public skating and speed racing, while the main arena became the long-serving home of the Leicester Riders basketball team from 1981. The complex was a legendary hub of social life, hosting iconic concerts by the Rolling Stones and The Police before the council closed its doors in 1998. By 2000, the building was demolished, leaving the Riders nomadic for years until they found a new home. Today, the site has been transformed into the Hotel Brooklyn and the expanded facilities of the Leicester Tigers, proving that while the clatter of wooden wheels has faded, the heart of Rinkomania still beats within Leicester’s enduring love for competitive sport.