Travelling to the end of the universe to arrive a skate park-cum-intergenerational-pickup-point was maybe not the most auspicious prelude to this fixture, but galvanised by a motorway chase in manager Sam Emmery’s Checkpoint Charlie challenger and the spectacle of Damo Douglas’ semi-nude physique leering from the changing room entrance, Clapham were steeled for their most challenging game of the season thus far.

Croxley were clearly packing players from their first team – those, perhaps, not fancying the Friday night frolic in Ascot – and it was they who were making all the early footballing hay, with a series of quick counter-attacks winning over Xaverians’ more studious, but slightly laborious, build-up play.

Against the tide, Sam Emmery (filling in at centre midfield, with Martin McGourty still chained to the Blarney Stone) made like a glitching Tekken character, bicycle-kicking a clearance out of danger. The previously rigid Croxley defence then flapped harder than Keith Harris’ Orville caught in a tempest, allowing James Allen through on goal, who customarily glided inward from the left to dispatch like a loaded Vasily Zaitsev.

Again came the swathe of Croxley counter, Clapham becoming as rattled as their crossbar, with goal-guardian Alex Jayes called into action several time to preserve the Clapham clean-sheet.

A change of personnel at half-time seemed to stymie the flow, with Andrew Douglas coming in alongside Spencer Grady at centre back and Joe Gnanhoua moving to left back. Defence looking more assured, the green-and-blue glamour boys up top were free to create, though Croxley remained resolute, the game seemingly heading for a 1-0 snatch-and-grab for the away side.

Then, with 10 minutes of the game left to go, calamity. Clearing off the line from a Croxley corner, Gnanhoua smashed the ball stoically away, only for Grady to take previous comments about keeping his eye on the ball all-too-literally. The match orb smashed into the centre-back’s bejewelled iris, propelling the ball (with some force) into his own net, bringing the scores level and making the Clapham No. 5 the only person to score against the Xaverians this season. What a lummox!

But this is a new Clapham. One which refuses to accept defeat, diliginetly saving all the back-stabbing for post-game post-mortems. The travellers were here for three points. And they would have them! Hypnotised by their ambitions to haul back the three-points, Croxley rushed a thrown-in, which was snuffled up by the pressing tag-team of Ohene, Davis and Branwood. The ball broke free on the edge of the box to Emmery, who curled the ball away from the outstretched hands of the Croxley goalie, into the bottom corner, instigating a feast of fist-bumps.

And Clapham weren’t done yet. Branwood was having a quiet game by his own elevated standards, frustrated by Croxley’s militant hands-on tactics. Miffed to the gills, he was now a man on a mission, leaving his primary nemesis standing like Laurence Fox waiting on a call from Billie Piper, before striking for goal. The keeper’s initial save was in vain, Branwood smashing in the rebound from the tightest of angles, maintaining his dazzling goalscoring form. Clapham hand turned the game back around in five breath-taking minutes. As the final whistle blow, Croxley looked shellshocked.

Post-game both teams (Croxley are a nice bunch) retired to the local Community Centre, a heavenly place where pizzas have more than one topping and where Steve Gordon has trouble telling one member of the proletariat from the next.

Man of the Match: Joe Gnanhoua, great at centre-back, even better at left-back (honourable mention for Mark Hignett, always happy to sacrifice the refinements of his game to out in the necessary dirty work)

Spencer Grady