A left turn off Wincham’s Chapel Street and all is quiet. It is just past seven on a Tuesday evening, the rain has passed, and a double rainbow illuminates the neighbouring Lostock Sustainable Energy Plant.
It is hardly Wembley Way in the May sunshine and, given it is mid-August, the FA Cup will not even be a passing ship in the thought waves of most football fans. The majority don’t tap in until under January’s darkness, surrounded by the narrative of how a once illustrious competition is now more muggle than wizard.
But here, in mid-Cheshire, and across hundreds of grounds countrywide, the magic remains stronger than ever. By month-end, three rounds will already have taken place. The aim right now is to be amongst the 32 non-league teams still alive come November’s First Round proper, instead of one of the 611 sides that will fall by the wayside.
A little further down the road and Wincham Park appears on the right. Locals decked in black-and-white-with-red-trim scarves stroll eagerly towards the turnstiles, chattering excitedly as they click through them.
Come kick-off a healthy crowd of 400 plus has gathered, a decent chunk of those making the 27-mile journey east from South Liverpool. It is often said at this level that a home is a little worn or requiring some tender loving care. Not true here. Every piece of red metal, every sign, every sinew screams pride. It is footballing perfection, heaven on earth.
As the referee peeps to signal the start, the queue at the food hatch remains long. Irritation? Not a hint. The action remains in full view and the sweet smell of simmering onions has noses twitching. Service is brisk and uber friendly, while departing punters tease those waiting by clutching, in one hand, trays of meat and potato pie sunk in a moat of chips, mushy peas and gravy, and, in the other, cans of pop – as they are only known north of Birmingham.
The visitors lead midway through the first half through a well-worked move finished expertly by captain Charlie Griffiths. Scores of scouse accents cheer delightedly in unison. Some have perched themselves behind the goal – swapping ends is actively encouraged here – while others have gathered in the seats behind the away dug-out.
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They are all familiar faces to each other, and they banter lightly with home supporters and stewards alike. Particularly impressive, it is remarked, is the match-day programme. “Packed full of good stuff and only two-quid.” The one negative? It has sold out before many were able to pick up a copy. Albion are on terms within ten minutes thanks to Joe Duckworth, and nudge ahead ten minutes later through Elliot Rokka.
Half-time sees dozens descend on non-league football’s only museum. Or, as the sign says, “probably the best non-league football museum ever.”
In pride of place are a trio of glass-fronted displays. One contains the original drawings of Albion’s current home and a charted history of how it came to be in 1989. This is flanked by exhibitions paying homage to the club’s various FA Cup runs – they last reached the First Round in 1995 - and a visit to Wembley for the FA Trophy Final in 1992 (where they lost to Colchester). The rest of the large room doubles up as a shrine to football from Merthyr to Manchester City and a club shop.
Darkness is starting to arrive and by mid-way through the second period, a carpet-like playing surface is bathed in artificial brightness. The floodlights were acquired in an auction following Northwich Victoria’s eviction from the nearby Victoria Stadium in 2012 – Albion formed in 1887 in protest at Victoria’s decision to turn professional.
Time passes: tension rises. Patrolling the home dugout is wet-behind-the-ears Ben Harrison, an imposing central defender who made north of 300 appearances for Albion across three spells. He is in situ on a caretaker basis after predecessor Jon Macken – once a £5 million Kevin Keegan signing at Manchester City – departed a week before the season began.
Marin Ryman, Harrison’s opposite number, has overseen nigh on a thousand South games, having been in post since the turn of the millennium. This is the club’s first dip in the FA Cup’s waters in 34 seasons, though.
While the pair are differentiated by experience, they are unified in their unwavering desire to progress in the tournament. South forced a replay via a 91st minute equaliser on Saturday – surely not again?
More time passes: tension rises further still. Substitutes warm up on the ancient treadmill behind the benches, and changes are rung. As the visitors try to push the tempo, the hosts attempt to slow it. Then, with two minutes spare, Reece Daly affirms Witton’s safe passage.
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In injury time, with frustration meeting elation, Witton’s goalkeeper goes down as if felled by a sniper. Home players appeal for red, while visiting fans suggest a yellow for the theatrics would be more appropriate. The referee - a young official who has overall had a decent outing and remained smiling throughout - can do little. He didn’t see it.
The keeper returns to his feet and receives a cyclone of abuse from a gaggle of South fans behind the goal. It is both febrile and uncensored.
The final whistle is met by a cheer and then a dash to return to vehicles. Up in the boardroom, over slurps of steaming tea and custard cream biscuits, both progress and the £1,444 is celebrated with equal gusto. At this level, every penny matters. But not as much as visions of an FA Cup fairytale.
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