Wealdstone Raider Finally Plays For Wealdstone, Flies Too Close To The Sun

When Gordon Hill first came to the nation's attention in 2013, he was a Wealdstone supporter much like any other. He was a builder, friend and lover by day, and a passionate non-league football fan by night. He interests included trips to Grosvenor Vale, going for a few drinks with the lads in Ruislip, shouting "You've got no fans" and "You want some, I'll give it 'yer" at the opposition, and occasionally, just for a treat, getting into a physical altercation with the fackin' mugs of this world. He was a man of simple tastes, and simple needs. He was the Wealdstone Raider.

That is, until he dared to dream of something more.

Like Icarus in the great tale of antiquity, the Wealdstone Raider has flown too close to the sun. He has soared to profound heights, glimpsed eternal glory, then suddenly been plunged into an ocean of pain. On Monday, he lived every Wealdstone fan's fantasy when he turned out for the side in their Non-League Challenge charity match. There he was, in full Wealdstone kit, finally representing the greatest club in all of the Borough of Hillingdon. There he was, the envy of all West London, charging about the pitch like an absolute loon.

Then this happened, and the dream came tumbling down. Icarus' waxen wings were melted, and so he crashed arsewards into the briny sea.

.@OnlyOneRaider made his debut for @wealdstonefc in the #NonLeagueChallenge. Here are his best bits… pic.twitter.com/DqsDEBpeV8
— Marathonbet (@marathonbet) August 1, 2016

There is probably nothing more anticlimactic than waiting a whole lifetime to represent Wealdstone, sprinting out onto the pitch and then immediately falling over, prompting a loud "WAHEY!" from the stands. The Raider's tumble is oddly moving in its own way, like watching a ship sinking, or a distant house fire. We have all seen a long-held ambition come to nothing. We can all relate to the feeling of falling arse-first towards oblivion, having failed to adjust to a slightly mistimed pass.

The game was for a good cause, in fairness, so the Raider can at least laugh it off. For the rest of us, however, this moment means something rather more profound. For the rest of us, this is a mirror reflecting our own Icarian ambitions.

We are all the Wealdstone Raider, really. We are all raiding ever upwards, and so must inevitably take a terrible fall.