Way Out Worthing
Worthing (A) - National League - 12th September 2026
The story this ballad will tell
Began quite remarkably well
Though a gruelling away
Was a pretty good day
With a sudden descent into hell.
It began in the deep of the night,
From DAZN's stupid scheduling shite,
Climbed on in Ramsden Square,
Half the bus seats to spare,
But all positive up for the fight
3am brought a varied approach
Much improved from Bank holiday's coach
While the front snuggled down,
The back row went to town,
Drunk or sober no mutual reproach
Well we flew down the road in a trance,
Near five hours of a set of 'hard dance'
And with one or two hanging
though the set was still banging
In no time we'd near travelled to France
So to Worthing a quaint seaside place
Could 'The Soccer' now pick up the pace?
Build from winning last week,
Things were seeming less bleak
And we'd surely get right in their face.
As we met those who'd 'Brightoned' last night,
Had they spanked under Level Two's lights?
This was stoutly denied
As we surveyed the side
Mikey Lane from the start would delight
Huge respect to their owner's back story,
His commitment to Conference South glory
But as Rebels...a pose,
When Mum shops at Waitrose,
And the streets all suburbanly Tory
But the ground was both quirky and smart,
And we pressed them far back at the start,
As we pushed and we tugged
Commentators were bugged,
Pair of whining obsessed southern tarts
So we looked a real threat in attack,
Gainst their blond Hitler Youth at the back
Their defenders had hives
As we romped down the sides
With the Rebels beginning to crack
Now then entered our loan Mikey Lane,
Swerved between their defence with disdain
Off the keeper shot spins
And he'd followed it in,
Cue away end erupting insane
Then the Worthing rocked backwards in fear,
Once again the bold Mikey went clear
With delighted surprise
Gave the keeper the eyes
So at half time I'm brimming with cheer
We'd competed all over the place
And the young Mr Lane had been ace
But was defence secure?
Overall standard poor
If the Worthing attack starts to chase...
Unbeknownst to us, under the stand,
Magic mushrooms were in the ref's hand
Only that explanation
Explains her weird mutation
Either that or it's more underhand
Our defenders began to self-harm
Could get number three bus to Newbarns
Between our centre backs
Worthing waves of attacks
In the middle we're strangely becalmed
So in truth we had slipped into slumber
After wingers we could only lumber
They cut through us at will
And moved in for the kill
Any game plan had been ripped asunder
At 2-1 Worthing did still hold sway
Till the pivotal point of the day
When the daft Worthing keeper
Decided he was a sweeper
Mikey Lane's on his bike and away!
So their goalie was clearly last man
Hauled our Mike to the ground as he ran
Indisputably Red!
What was in the ref's head?
From this level, that must get her banned
Our defenders were moving like Friesians
And our tempo had little cohesion
Again Worthing strolled through
Rolled it in for two-two
Collapse now summing up the whole season
Now both teams trading blows in attack,
Different teams, but both poor at the back
Some great crosses and saves
As both tried to be brave
But with quality, both sides did lack
At full time, there'd been no effort spared,
And a draw overall was quite fair
Switching off, no excuse!
The ref warrants abuse
But it's our fault our lead was impaired
On to Solihull ...we're twenty-first
Playing a side who's own record is worse,
Needing three points away,
An important match day
Or recovery sticks in reverse
We'd have lost that last year, there's no question,
And improvement is more than suggestion
But it needs to translate,
Or mid-lower's our fate
Our transition a bitter digestion
Footnote
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