The Wealdstone Raider Is Back, Raiding Our Hearts Once More

Somewhere, right now, Gordon Hill is going about his daily business. A builder by trade, we imagine he's currently cementing a brick, or plastering a wall, or having a nice strong cup of tea and chatting about the state of this bloody country. Later on, he'll probably pick up some milk from the corner shop. Perhaps he'll grab a Cornetto, maybe a couple of lottery tickets. He'll go home, make himself a modest dinner and see what's on the box. That, we imagine, is an average day in the life of Gordon Hill.

There's nothing particularly exceptional about Gordon, see. He's one of us, another person stuck in a humdrum routine. However, unlike the rest of us, Gordon has an outlet to the monotonous conformity of human existence.

One day a week – usually a Saturday – Gordon Hill ceases to be. In his place, there stands his charismatic alter ego. In his place, there stands the Wealdstone Raider.

You may remember the Raider from this viral YouTube clip, dating back to a non-league match between Wealdstone and Whitehawk from 2013. If Gordon Hill is Doctor Jekyll, the Wealdstone Raider is Mr Hyde. Irascible, ill-tempered and imbued with a burning anger of the soul, a pint in one hand and a roll up in the other, the Raider screams freely at the universe – even if he can only articulate the phrases "You've got no fans", and "You want some, I'll give it 'yer".

He is a free man, a human being who refuses to suppress his basic instincts. Those instincts are, of course, to watch Wealdstone Football Club, drink lager out of a plastic cup, and face opposition fans in hand-to-hand combat.

The Raider is a magnificent beast. He is a stag ready to lock horns with his rivals, a grizzly bear who prepares to defend his territory with a mighty roar. He represents our primal urges, our most visceral desires. Now, he has returned once more.

You just can't make this up! Wealdstone fans starting trouble at Whitehawk and look who's on the front line!!! pic.twitter.com/u45aChil31
— Henry Summers (@LordSummers) April 9, 2016

With Whitehawk hosting Wealdstone in the National League South this weekend, the Raider couldn't resist a reunion with the old enemy. With the match in full swing, trouble suddenly erupted on the sidelines.

There, at the centre of the fracas, stands the man himself. "Anytime, you fackin' mugs!" he cries.

This is the Raider's philosophy in a nutshell, really. Straining against the arms holding him back, railing against the shackles of society, the concept of time melts away before his overwhelming desire to square up to the fackin' mugs. When it comes down to it, he will do anything to stop the fackin' mugs from dishonouring Wealdstone in battle. Who knows who the fackin' mugs actually are, or whether they were in attendance at Whitehawk this Saturday. That's not important – whatever happens, the Raider must not be seen to tolerate the fackin' mugs.

Wealdstone Raider assisted out of The Enclosed Ground. Bizarre end to an enjoyable afternoon (for Whitehawk) pic.twitter.com/UWznTxSaaZ
— Andy Schofield (@Andy_Schofield) April 9, 2016

He may have been assisted out of the ground, rumpled packet of Golden Virginia in hand, but the Raider re-established himself this weekend. Wealdstone may have gone on to lose 3-0, but the Raider claimed victory – even if that victory was against a bemused and potentially blameless foe. Though we might publicly disdain such behaviour, perhaps there is a Raider in all of us secretly struggling to burst forth.

As Gordon Hill watches television this evening, as he eats his microwaved chicken balti, we imagine that he'll allow himself to briefly reminisce over the weekend's events. Then, as he pictures himself taking on the fackin' mugs, his face will break out into the smile of a man who has transcended the ordinary – the smile of a man who is truly free.