Let’s take a moment to talk about Toby Bull. In the vernacular of the Youth Wing, this is the Toby Bull Appreciation Thread (insert your own emoji here).
Let’s be honest, he dropped a bollock on the first goal. It’s a whipped cross from the right that’s mishit and travelling at speed toward his near post, and he palms it into the net. There’s no shying away from the fact it’s a howler.
He’s a young keeper. 21. He was born in 2003, for Christ’s sake. I’ve got boxer shorts older than him. It would have been easy for him to crumble. Forgivable, even. But he’s granite, this lad.
He comes back out for the second half, and as I’m walking past the away end, he’s predictably getting some verbals from the Ashford mob. “It’s all your fault,” and all the other chants that come up when you Google “what to sing at a goalkeeper who’s let in a soft goal” because you’ve got the imagination of a Dairylea Triangle and can’t think of anything original. He jogs over to them, gives them a friendly little nibble back, and gets on with it.
He makes two amazing second-half saves to keep us in it, saves a penalty in the shoot-out, and then has the guts to take and score our ninth and final penalty himself. Have that. Bloody well have that.
To be frank, we were a slice fortunate to even make it to the penalty shoot-out. For all of the first half and a good chunk of the second we stunk the place out. Couldn’t get going.
That was somewhat excused by the growing absentee list. No Kaiser, no Enkh, no Antonio; Matty Warren on the bench, but probably not fit enough to use; Maliq Morris named among the subs but nowhere to be seen; Peter Ojemen on the naughty step after being sent-off last week; even The Gaffer was away attending an FA course on how to deal with an injury crisis. Consequently, our bench looked like this:
We go with a back three, including new boy Marcel McIntosh, but whether it’s the new shape, the missing personnel, or the waft of paraffin in the air from the pre-match bonfire torches, the boy are out of sorts. We can’t get the passing game going, can’t get the danger men on the ball, we’re second to most of the 50-50s.
We don’t even trouble their goal until midway through the second half, when Sahe Hutchinson rounds the keeper and lobs one on to the bar, but by this stage we’re 2-0 down. Jerry Puemo gets caught under a long bouncing ball, his saving tackle only goes as far as the robust number 9, Lockyer, who plants it low into the net.
Then, almost out of nowhere, with about 15 minutes to go, we get a waft of the smelling salts and start playing like the side that’s been at the top of the table for most of the season so far. Nabeel Ghannam’s come on, and he’s starting to find pockets of space and threading through balls, the wingers are getting behind their full-backs, and – just as thoughts are drifting towards which pub to drown our sorrows in – we’re back in it.
Sub Tolu Ladapo burst down the right, gets to the byline, cuts a ball back for Hutchinson to sweep home via a deflection off the keeper.
It looks like it might be too little too late, until – in the second minute of time added on – we work another chance, which falls to Alfie Allen on the edge of the penalty box, which he sweeps home low into the side netting.
The FA Trophy has zero tolerance for sodding about these days. There’s no extra time, no replays, it’s straight to penalties so we can all get home in time for Strictly. But we do our best to stretch it out until Match of the Day with nine penalties apiece, until finally their lad Waddles one over the bar and we’re through 8-7 on spot-kicks. Glory be.
All in, it felt like something of a redemption week. Before the game, we had the official launch of the Lewes FC Football Foundation, a coming together of all the community football teams (juniors, vets, walking footballers) to hopefully put their collective futures on firmer ground.
That followed a club Town Hall in the week, with directors speaking about the club cutting its cloth, no longer relying on deep-pocket donations, but building a truly sustainable future where you don’t have to hock half the club to promiscuous private equity funds that couldn’t find Lewes on a map.
Redemption. It tastes good.
Lewes: Bull, Puemo, McIntosh, Mundele, Sablier, Muirhead (Ghannam), Allen, Allsopp, Williams (Ladapo), Bassett, Hutchinson
Unused subs: Warren, Morris
Supporters Club man of the match: It’s got to be Toby, for putting that early setback behind him in serious style.
Boyesy’s brilliant photos:
