Inside Sunderland's latest stirring comeback - and why the future feels bright whatever happens at Luton

With a shrug of the shoulders and something of a wry grin, Tony Mowbray confirmed that there would be no cavalry coming over the hill on Tuesday. 

If anything, Sunderland’s squad might be even more threadbare by the time they kick off their second leg at Luton Town.

So this will be them, #TilTheEnd: Probably the silliest and most thrilling distillation of Mowbray’s Sun’lun yet. 

It’s no defenders, just vibes. 

It’s Patrick Roberts, the wing back. It’s Jack Clarke, the other wing back. 

It’s Luke O’Nien, the no-nonsense midfield enforcer at the start of the season, playing 1-2s with Anthony Patterson on the edge of his six-yard box. 

It’s Lynden Gooch on the left of a back three, flying in for a challenge somewhere near the halfway line and not getting there, almost 2-0 Luton Town and not far from over before it’s really begun. It’s Lynden Gooch making the same challenge half an hour later and absolutely nailing it. 

It’s Trai Hume at centre-half somehow being one of the most sensible things about this starting XI. It’s him picking up excellent positions in the opposition box, and turning deft headers into the bottom corner.

It’s Amad’s first meaningful kick of the ball being a hit from 25 yards that swerves and dips and nestles just beyond the reach of the goalkeeper. It’s hands on head or arms in the air, depending on whether your first reaction is disbelief or delirium. It’s every touch of his after that bordering on the impeccable, hauling his side up the pitch and into the game.

It’s the collective gasp and the holding of breath when the opposition win a set piece, any set piece anywhere on the pitch. It’s not knowing whether the gap in height between the two amassing groups of players is comical or just terrifying.

It’s the frustration and the tension when the opposition gets their press right, and there's no striker to hit and the only way through is loaded with risk.

It’s Joe Gelhardt, playing the role he was never meant to play, just about making it work through sheer hard work and the strength of his first touch.

It’s the blossoming of Pierre Ekwah, a midfielder who has come a towering presence slowly and then all at once.

It’s the spells where it all clicks, and Roberts is landing nutmegs and Clarke is 1-v-1 and Pritchard is picking up dangerous little pockets. It’s Mowbray, pacing his technical area, telling them to play, to express themselves. Every now and then just maybe, for a moment, wishing they didn’t take it quite so literally.

Above all else, it’s brave. 

It’s a city centre buzzing again, queues at the ticket office and blocks of seats selling out in minutes. It’s ‘Wise Men Say’ blowing the cobwebs off the Premier Concourse, once as good as mothballed but now shaking and swaying again. It’s remembering that feeling when this place first opened, and anything felt possible. 

It’s the feeling that even though this team has only won three times at home this year, you just have to be there. 

And of course it’s knowing full well that it might not be enough, not this time at least. That if anything Luton will go out the blocks just about the favourites, an excellent side who have every right to feel that this year is their time.

The second half was sublime but the first half, well for large parts it was pretty scary. Comrades in arms, Mowbray calls them. Thirty minutes in you felt the sinking feeling of a side able to execute the strategy that has worked so well for visiting teams in recent months but at an even higher level.

Luton rode the initial storm and they stepped on, pressing aggressively but intelligently. Sunderland’s flair players were receiving the ball in areas where they were a bigger threat to their own team than Rob Edwards’, and the speed of transition was ominous. 

After Amad’s magic they struggled to maintain it but on Tuesday night they will have the noise on their backs and the belief of a side who have produced an outstanding campaign to finish third.

They may well see more of the ball, in better areas, and that may allow them to exploit their strikeforce better than they were able to here. Despite that early goal Sunderland’s makeshift backline was never really put under the anticipated siege, forced to head ball after ball deep in their own box. There is more of that coming, surely.

Outside of Abdoullah Ba and Edouard Michut, who still don’t have 40 years between them, there were ten Championship appearances on Sunderland’s bench here. With the bruises still coming they will be stretched to the very limit. Even with their one-goal advantage, it will take their best performance yet to make it to Wembley. When that first cross is loaded into the box, that first set piece awarded, it will feel pretty much like level terms back on Wearside.

Maybe Sunderland will make it over the line and it’s another ten days of nerves, of excitement, of wondering if this is all real and just how many diminutive attacking midfielders you can get into one team and still live to tell the tale?

Maybe they won’t and it’s hurt and a little frustration and it’s wondering what might have been, better luck with injuries, one last addition in the January window…

This warm glow, though, is knowing that this is surely the start of something.

It’s Sunderland falling behind and the response being a deep breath and a determined rendition of ‘every little thing, is gonna be alright’.