Journey to Wembley: Witton Albion's FA Cup dream comes to an end with seven-goal thrashing after defensive crisis... with one centre-half missing on a stag do as Daily Mail Sport's baton passes to South Shields

FA Cup Second Qualifying Round: South Shields 7 Witton Albion 0

With some degree of difficulty, Witton Albion have requisitioned Accrington Stanley’s bus for the journey to the far north but there’s a misunderstanding about which motorway junction one of their players is to meet it at, and then a 30-minute delay because of a crash on the A19. That leaves only 90 minutes until kick-off when their five-hour journey brings them up to South Shields’ impressive ground, on the Tyneside coast.

The bus has been sourced by Paul Houghton, Witton’s kit man, who everyone calls ‘square’ (‘because of the shape of my head,’ he explains) and though he organises much more than his title suggests, finding ‘a bus with tables’ has proved taxing because there’s apparently a general shortage of them. But it’s the scarcity of central defenders which looks more worrying for the eighth-tier Cheshire team, who we are with for a third round on our journey to Wembley told in 13 instalments, following a club as far as they go and then picking up with the team who beat them, all the way to the final.

Both Geffry Ebhote, outstanding at the back when Witton shocked aircraft manufacturing club Avro in the 1st Qualifying Round, and Wade Rutherford have had longstanding social commitments today – one of them is on a stag do – so 35-year-old manager Benny Harrison, an accomplished centre-half in his playing days, has had to name himself a substitute.

When Harrison wanders over to talk after the warm-up, it’s evident that he’s an extremely good man for a challenge like this, against a fully professional team, two leagues above Witton in the pyramid. ‘Last time I played myself, I thought I was going to get sacked and I came on and we won six games in a row!’ he says, with an easy equanimity.

Harrison teaches in a school with special educational needs and in the month or so that we’ve got to know each other, it’s become clear that the challenging classroom role is useful when helping a group of footballers navigate the Northern Premier League, and this mini-Cup run.

‘You learn to understand what sort of individual each of them is,’ Harrison told me, one Thursday night, as he struggled to make himself heard above the noise of Witton Albion Brass Band practising in the room next door. 

‘People have everyday lives and something might have happened to affect them and the way they are responding.’ (Witton have had a brass band named after them ever since offering rehearsal room at their stadium to a local bread factory works ensemble who’d lost their practice space.)

Witton supporters Will and Ben have transported a bass drum all the way to South Shields and, though not members of any band, are making all the noise before kick-off. The club haven’t managed to put a supporters’ coach on so there are barely 50 of their fans here, and people have been telling the Radio Witton volunteer commentators all week that they’ll be tuning into their live broadcast instead. ‘It means we need to be on top of our game,’ says Andrew Nelson, one of them, as he heads anxiously up to the gantry.

Here, in microcosm, is the power of community which is football’s lifeblood at the clubs far from the pomp and ceremony of high-powered sports cars and six-figure weekly salaries. South Shields know all about that priceless commodity, too, despite their £3.4million main stand with 15 corporate boxes, their fully professional playing squad, and promotion ambitions.

Barely a decade ago, the team were playing local Northern League games at Peterlee, 30 miles down the coast, because they couldn’t afford to renew the lease on this ground, which was at risk of being sold to the Port of Tyne as a container park. Geoff Thompson, a local businessman who ran a listed corporate energy consultancy, then stepped in to buy the freehold on the ground and take the club on a remarkable journey which has mirrored the local town's own advance from the depths of post-industrial despair to an attractive tourism destination with sandy beaches.

‘At the start, I wasn’t taking a long-term view,’ says Thompson, the club’s chairman, sitting in a tented dining area which he envisages being the site of a second stand, to go with the main one he has financed, if the club can maintain their upward trajectory. ‘But I think there’s a place for a club like us. We used to be in the old Second Division and in 2030 it will be 100 years since we fell out of the Football League. We think we could return there and that League 2, or even League 1, would be a good position for us. It would be wonderful to achieve that around 100 years on.’

After four league titles in 11 years under his shrewd ownership, there is belief in the potential around this place. That was equally evident when Thompson, sensing the need to begin passing on the baton after a cancer diagnosis and successful surgery, engaged a firm of Newcastle financial consultants to draw up an ‘information memorandum’ and begin the search for new investors. Four months ago, an international consortium led by Jason Ye, a New York-based capital markets lawyer, and including equity partners from Singapore and Shanghai, took a 75 per cent ownership of the club, with Thompson, who maintains a 23per cent share, still very much present. Fans own the rest.

Financially, it all feels a world away from Witton, with their ownership structure of 400 registered shareholders and stipulation that no one may own more than 10 per cent, which has left them dependent on generous benefactors. South Shields’ club shop is selling £45 framed images of striker Paul Blackett and £55 replica training tops. You don’t find those at a seventh-tier club.

Money offers no guarantees. South Shields lost 6-0 at league leaders Hereford the previous weekend and US-owned Hartlepool United will part company with their manager before this day is done. But the chasm between the sides is immediately obvious as Shields capitalise on their opponents’ depleted defence to go 3-0 up in 12 minutes.

Blackett, a non-league legend in these parts, scores two of them but Liverpool-born Sean McGurk, signed from Swindon Town last year, is the prime talent, creating two and almost bending in one of his own. Witton’s Freddy Garbutt enters the picture, with excellent close control for a 6ft 6in striker, but Blackett runs through to make it 4-0 by half-time.

Motivational talk is hard when the game has gone so early. Harrison tells his players to find some intensity, leave everything out on the field, but Shields do not relent. Northern Ireland international Jordan Jones runs much of a second half in which Cedwyn Evans scores twice and 31-year-old Adam Campbell, a teenage player for Newcastle United in Europe at the age of 15, wraps things up.

It seems symbolic that Campbell wears No27 and Scott is No19. Our Journey to Wembley is entering the world of substantial squads and you suspect Witton will be the last on the journey to line 1 to 11. But there’s still an unmistakable sense of community about this place, epitomised by the little sweet shop, Kets N’ Pop, run by a couple advanced in years, Helen and Mark, under the old Clock Stand. ‘Kets’ is local vernacular for ‘sweets.’ They press a £1 packet of bonbons on me. 'No charge!'

The final whistle is a mercy for Witton, whose race in this tournament is certainly run. ‘We were never going to win the FA Cup and this match won’t define our season,’ says Harrison, as he heads back to a hectic domestic life in which his three-month-old daughter features substantially. ‘It’s a lonely place on the pitch when you’re up against it like that but we didn’t throw in the towel.’

We may also be leaving behind the last side on our journey who head across the pitch at full-time to shake the hands of virtually every travelling fan before leaving the pitch. Standing there to greet Witton's players are drummers Will and Ben, whose rhythm understandably tailed off at 4-0. ‘We’re proud of the boys,’ says Ben, hauling the drum to his Toyota Yaris for the long drive home.