’Tis the season of the Nicky Wheeler wonder strike. This was always going to be fun: Marc White vs Chris Agutter; Dorking vs Worthing; 4th vs 7th. A Boxing Day bout between two of the National League South heavyweights. It lived up to its expectation. And then some.

The Reds had rescued their festive merriment with a slim win over Enfield Town at the weekend. Agutter fancied a little change in personnel for this meaty play-off clash: Temi Babalola and Sam Packham dropping to the bench in favour of Joe Cook and Kane Wills. There was an extra man in the midfield, and that seemed important against a determined, direct Dorking side.

Meadowbank was a feverish kind of place as the players stepped out onto the turf. A large crowd filtered through the turnstiles, feeling something favourable would be taking place beneath the misty Surrey sky. This wasn’t quite as they’d hoped for.

So then came a game of football, in which just about everything happened. After just 45 minutes three goals had been scored, a penalty had been missed and a man had been sent off. By 90 minutes not much had changed – only that the three points would be traveling down to the Sussex coastline.

Dorking burst into life from the start, but were behind after 12 minutes. Charlie Carter and Jack Young came close, then closer, but Glen Rea’s header from a Danny Cashman corner sent the blue shapes whirring. They hadn’t been hammering on the Dorking door, but already that home defence had shown signs of imperfection. But positivity had been brewing in their attacking play since the onset.

They deservedly levelled with 25 minutes played, by which point Chris Haigh had already made two excellent saves, and seen another few strikes whistle wide of the post. Dorking are a side endowed with confidence. They began the day 4th, yet we’re fairly sure they were middling in mid-table not so long ago. Jason Prior thundered home from inside the six-yard box to balance the pendulum, and ignite the hushed home support.

Foulkes then tipped Cashman’s long-range effort over the crossbar before he kept out Joe Partington’s point-blank header. The Reds looked to restore parity, but chiefly to settle things down a touch. These are two teams used to playing high-octane, breathless football. Worthing took the initiative to take the sting out of proceedings. Another defensive mishap found Faal with the ball bursting into the box. He falls, the whistle blows, and the penalty is given.

Cashman collects the football, places it onto the spot. He waits. Waits some more. Winds into his run up and places it towards the corner, but the hand of Harrison Foulkes diverts it around the post. Then, in the sixth minute of stoppage time, Nicky Wheeler did a remarkable thing.

This is going to be some Goal of the Season compilation. And this was maybe Wheeler’s third nomination, but undoubtedly his best. We’d require some greater technology than eyesight alone for absolute accuracy, but Wheeler’s around 40 yards out when the ball left his boot, destined for the top corner. He finds it. It’s a beautiful, outrageous thing. A wonderful individual goal.

This adrenal, testosterone-fuelled affair was taking new shape. All it needed now was for one player to push another player into the advertising hoardings and receive a red card. Step forward, Matthew Briggs. Not too sure of his aim here, really. He’d just won his side a corner in what would be the last action of the half, then decided he wanted to be a spectator in the second half. The curtain drops on the opening half. It was theatre-like stuff.

But it’s typical of a team with a player fewer to move up a gear. Worthing had more goals, more players; yet when in this cauldron of a ground the exit sign is a hard one to find. They returned rejuvenated, sticking to the game plan and feeding the indomitable Jason Prior and Alfie Rutherford when in possession. The former would spurn a glorious chance, spooning the ball over the bar. Then the latter couldn’t quite polish off a free-flowing move as Haigh held on.

Bailey Smith was on now – a speedy addition who provides an outlet. He’d fire low into Foulkes’ legs, whilst Jack Spong – who did not stop running throughout – found the ‘keeper’s grasp with a well-hit half-volley. Temi Babalola was on now, too, alongside Sam Packham as the fresh legs looked to locate further flaws.

With around 20 minutes left Worthing started to make their man advantage count. Dorking just couldn’t keep the tempo. They’d bulldozed their way through the Worthing backline in an opening half they didn’t take advantage of. There wasn’t much in this one, but if not for Cook’s leaping header, Sam Beard’s brilliant block and Haigh’s late save, they might have snatched a point.

After six minutes of stoppage time Worthing were in some other place entirely. Blue shirted men hugged other blue shirted men. Red shirts sunk to the floor. Agutter’s smile couldn’t grow any greater. Wills does about 15 fist bumps to the crowd. The Worthing fans in the corner are just all a whirl of hands at this point. Four points separates the top eight. The Reds are right in the mix.

Over in the Dorking technical area Marc White stands with arms crossed, face flushed, as if having just sat through a two-hour nativity play. They’d lost just one of their previous 10 in the division but, here, Dorking just seemed to be swallowed up by their own avidity.

They’re a big, mean, voracious sort of side. The one that White dreams of. This is his team, his club. But not his sport. For all the noise, the brutal honesty and the YouTube series, there are vulnerabilities. And here, below the low lights of Meadowbank, were well and truly exploited.