“Fairytale setting, nightmare football”

Allow me to set the scene.

A triumphant and invigored, newly promoted side returning to the coveted green pastures of their home ground. Windmill fins turning in the summer breeze, Bo-Peep’s lambs frolicking freely on the foot of the chalk-kissed South Downs.

A quite literal fairytale setting ‘neath the watch of Jack and Jill. Such was the beauty, only a beastly performance could disrupt the harmony.

The morning began with Manager Wickwar turning up to Clayton having remembered to collect Bally this week. Both had waved merrily to Mr Filch (well done if you get this one) on their entry to the car park and were as surprised as when the Weasel went POP to see the entire of opposition already gathering for their meet time which seemingly was 1 and a half hours before kick off.

Soon, all the kings horses and all the kings men of the Fatboys reserves contingent would begin to arrive and the start of a tumultuous morning of events would begin.

The disarray had begun the night before when it transpired that Humpty-Numpty Ryan John had buggered off to Birmingham to watch Sussex get their rumps served to them a la Miller & Carter (what a sponsor that would be), having not given the kit back and it being instead stuck at his ‘gaffe’.

Problem solved thanks to the lovely chaps over at S&W being flexible we donned the infamous green. Everyone seemed to be taking an eternity to get changed and it was immediately clear that this was wholeheartedly because no bastard either wanted to put the nets up nor had the collective mental capacity to do so.

4 nets were hung with the process looking like the Grand Old Duke of York leading his men up and down the hill as nobody remembered to take tape or pegs to either goal.

First shambles of the day done, team announced (Jones, Parker, Pinnock, Finch, Ballatyne, Wickwar, Evetts, Pople, Blake, Enticknapp and Spies), bench confirmed (Parry, Maguire, Rowden, Slark, Jee) the second shambles could begin.

The warmup was a sad indication of what may be yet to come with some lacklustre figures being cut. The week long promotion celebrations perhaps taking their toll.

Wickwar’s attempted to rouse the troops and have them skip to the tune of his pied-piper team talk , taking particular time to point out the man of particularly large stature donning the opposing number 9 shirt but more on that shortly.

Kick off, said number 9 picked up the ball soon after in the middle of the park, laid it off, waltzed 30 yards, picked it up again with his feet, then his thigh, then toe, then boom – dinked a cute finish to make it 1-0 with the first effort of the game.

Oh dear. Hopefully this would be the metaphorical rocket betwixt the cheeks of the arse that Fatboys needed to wake themselves from their slumber.

There looked to be some level of immediate response. Wickwar picking up the ball just outside his own box following some good defensive work from Parker and Tom Thumb Pinnock and riding two challenges to drive into the visitors penalty area.

With a chance to find a fellow green in the middle and level the game he instead crossed rather meekly allowing the opposition to clear and break through the step over king recently dubbed as ‘the one who got away’.

Thankfully this time the counter came to nothing but it would not be long before the home side would be trailing again.

Amongst plenty of attempts at good; spies making good runs, Pople and Blake trying to get on the ball in the middle and the back 4 doing a good job of trying to shift from side to side in search of an opening, Fatboys appeared to have little in the way of an answer for the youthful opposition midfield.

They asked questions and got the answers they wanted to. Knocking at the door like the Big Bad Wolf, the home of Fatboys seemed to turn from brick to straw rather quickly as Sompting played well down the wing, bringing the ball into the middle of the box and finishing to drive a punch into the gut of the men in green. 2-0 and an uphill battle ahead of them.

With an evident overrunning in the middle of the park, Wickwar reshaped the layout of the side and sent himself to the middle and put Enty to the wing to utilise his pace.

In hindsight, not the smartest of reshuffles as the pair had shown some potential in the opening exchanges linking well down the right side but a plaster very much needed to be slapped on the open wounds of the home side.

Sadly said plaster would soon come to be paper over cracks. Service to the front men dried up as long hopefuls were left being fruitlessly chased and Fatboys were at sixes and sevens – a figure much higher than those likely to be awarded by the catalogue man based on showings so far.

This was not through fault of trying, Fatboys did their upmost but the opposition were evidently feeling good about their position and they had an air of swagger about them, most notably through their younger constituents.

2-0 would soon become a memory of the past with Fats unable to cope with the oncoming pressure. Pinnock blocking a shot followed by Jones channeling his inner Puss In Boots clawing only for the loose ball to be bundled home by the number 9.

The halftime whistle was a saving grace and a time to reflect. Fingers were pointier than noses at a witches convention and Fatboys needed to turn thread into gold in the second half to salvage anything from the game – a tall order even with Rumplestiltskin lookalike Evetts on their side.

An unconventional change also saw local grin-merchant Dan Jee introduced in goal for his maiden Fatboys voyage.

After a frank chat, Fatboys brought Slark and Rowden into the game to try and shore up the middle, allowing Wickwar to return to the width.

A stronger start than the first half ensued with some good play leading to a great ball being slid across the six yard box where Blake was stood and able to toe home to close the gap.

The remainder of the half would become a bit of back and forth, this seemed to wake the sleeping beauty of the reserves from their first half slumber and the drive and determination of the likes of Finch, Spies and Slark allowed the game to become more competitive.

Jee was still to be called upon however, some good positioning allowing him to cut out threats and one particularly good use of his face to keep the score at 3-1.

At the other end, the home side were begging one another to make a tidier final decision but the carriage would simply not arrive at the ball and the final delivery continued to be the crux of their game.

With all the effort and legs beginning to be spent, there was indeed time for one more game. The tireless opposing midfielder stroke forward waved his wand and finished delightfully with an absolute arse-rasper of a strike past a stranded Jee, having kissed the horizontal minutes before to make it 4-1.

And with that, the game was ogre. Sompting & Worthing progressed and celebrated with a rubber tub of warm Carling to celebrate.

There is rumour they may still be at the side of Clayton Green now. Next up for the reserves is a first (second first) league game of the season away to Aldrington Reserves.

On to the next one eh..