Well, that was quite something. It took some time for this game to boil over into a state of hyper-drama and tension, but when it did in those final few moments, the three points felt all the more precious.

Rather aptly, the night ended with the Welling goalkeeper in Worthing’s box, and the ball drifting slowly into Welling’s goal. It didn’t count, but the full-time picture was an appropriate fit for Worthing’s season to date.

It’s been up, and then down, then up, down and down a bit more before this Tuesday evening. There were more fluctuations under the floodlights, as the lightning rolled in off the beating coast. The image is one of positivity and improvement once again.

Let’s start at the beginning. The game kicked off beneath blackened skies, though that milky warmth of the summer months still lingered in the air below the bright white lights. Joel Colbran returned to the starting XI and so too did Jack Wadham, with the latter making his first start since last season’s play-off final.

Almost immediately, Welling came within a leg of taking the lead. Alfie Young’s leg, to be precise, standing his ground to block a certain goal as the Reds failed in their attempt at playing out from the back.

Within a few fine, forward passes Danny Cashman was searching for his moment in the spotlight, jinking his way into that square of space that he does so well, but pulling the shot wide of Rhys Lovett’s right-post.

Then the rain arrived and the conditions had changed: a slippery, slick lozenge of illuminated green. Woodside Road looked the part, but it was nearly silent when Martell Taylor-Crossdale skimmed the top of Chris Haigh’s crossbar with a dipping drive from 20 yards.

That was twice inside the first 15 minutes that a defensive error had led to a presentable Welling chance. The Wings were hounding the Reds high up the pitch, and it took a degree of class and patience to break through the rapid waves of attacking blue.

Saturday was a big blow to Chris Agutter and his Worthing side, and the wounds were present in an opening half that just lacked that slice of conviction, that moment of magic.

Much like the heavens above the game trickled down toward the interval. The damp curtain had dropped over a half dubbed the definition of deadlocked. It had commenced with much verve and panaché, but culminated in a soggy slog between two sides that looked like they were coming off the back of defeat.

The players returned by the rain remained. Unchanged were the Reds as the referee got things moving again, Unmistakable were Welling as they looked to pounce on the sleeping Reds early once more. The ball dropped to Daniel Martin in space, fairly central and a few strides from the D, but was blazed high into the black sky.

With 54 minutes played Jack Wadham threaded a delightful, defence-splitting pass. The majority of Woodside Road – expecting a yellow flag to fly on the sideline – heeded to the linesman on the far side pointing his flag downward and running at speed. Suddenly Faal had nothing but grass, goal, net, the tango-clad strip of Lovett racing out in front of him. The ‘keeper wins this battle, blocking Faal’s placed kick away for a corner.

Next you turn to Jack Spong standing over a free-kick 35 yards out. He can score the spectacular, and this one drifted marginally wide of the post at pace via the forehead of Welling captain Dave Winfield.

But these notes tell the story of a side from Sussex in the ascendancy. Sometimes it doesn’t quite pay off, and sometimes you see Faal wheeling away in complete and utter delight at sight of a rustled net and the sound of an eruptive Woodside Road. He had toiled away in the diagonal rain all evening, and his reward simply could not be better.

That was the difference on the night: one swing of a right boot. In a period of inconsistency it’s crucial to fight for every ball, and defend every attack like the season depends on it. Victories arrive, and you don’t care how they’re won.

These were the vibes on this night. It was always going to be a close, cagey affair where one goal might just settle the scores, secure the points. As the final whistle loomed the Reds were pushed back. Another loose pass presented Martin with an effort, then Joel Colbran came out of absolutely nowhere to preserve the lead. The corner was swung in, Lovett present in the box, but Cashman clears, clears, clears as far as the opposing goal, but the whistle had already been blown.

Strip it down, and you’re left with one goal, three points and almost 1,200 relieved supporters streaming out onto the puddled streets of Worthing. And so we press on, wings against the wind, in search of a place in the coveted First Round Proper on Saturday.