Nine thousand home fans sounded like a dozen times the number and it will be a wonder if, upon waking up on Wednesday, any Luton supporter inside Kenilworth Road will have the capacity to vocalise exactly how this felt. They were climbing out of the National League nine years ago and now one of the Championship’s supposed minnows stands a game from the top flight.
Wembley will pulsate to the awesome energy and running power of Rob Edwards’ remarkable team; Coventry or Middlesbrough will have to deal with them more effectively than Sunderland, whose manager Tony Mowbray watched a depleted side run out of steam. Gabe Osho and Tom Lockyer gave Luton an aggregate lead with goals from set pieces in the first half; they barely allowed their opposition a sniff after that and the emotions poured out liberally at full time.
Their celebrations were raucous but the atmosphere had been fevered from the outset. Luton had unexpectedly gained a taste for this stage a year ago, ultimately losing to Huddersfield after drawing the first leg here, but Wembley was potentially only 90 minutes away this time. If the noise during the teams’ warm-ups was notable the din verged on startling when they re-emerged to kick off, the very foundations of this eccentric old venue seeming to rock.
This was bruising fare played out in a visceral environment, every decision howled for and every challenge contested thuddingly during a frantic opening. Luton had a single-goal deficit to overhaul and knew that, if they pressured a makeshift Sunderland defence more intensely than at the Stadium of Light, they might do so.
It took them 10 minutes to succeed. The award of a left-sided corner brought portentous roars and, when it was swung in by Jordan Clark, a header by Lockyer was blocked. Osho swooped to stab in the loose ball; pandemonium ensued and Sunderland faced the stiffest of examinations.
They almost responded immediately when, from their own corner, Pierre Ekwah’s near-post flick was brilliantly repelled by Ethan Hovath. The rebound was fired back across by Ekwah and blocked by Amari’i Bell’s hand; he had not moved his arm towards the ball and VAR was not available to split hairs.
Sunderland, as stocked with tricky forwards as they were light on fit defenders, were always going to pose a threat. Amad Diallo had turned the reverse fixture on its head with a wondergoal and was immediately singled out for attention by the crowd, derided as a diver. It was recognition of his danger. He drilled an effort across goal and Patrick Roberts followed suit; the Black Cats’ attack looked capable of flowing but Luton brought the chaos.
Balls into Sunderland’s box caused panic and, after Anthony Patterson dropped one from Alfie Doughty, a combination of Luke O’Nien and Trai Hume were required to clear off the line as Carlton Morris pounced. On the half-hour, Morris forced Patterson to scoop away a header before Lockyer nodded wide. The styles were contrasting and the tempo utterly relentless.
There was no time for Sunderland to build steady possession, a fast and physical Luton hunting in packs led by the ubiquitous Pelly-Ruddock Mpanzu. When Morris flashed wide after his strike partner Elijah Adebayo had bustled down the right, Mowbray would have been excused feeling desperate for half-time.
His team did not reach it without further grievous damage. Doughty’s corner appeared to have been seen off but, when the ball was worked back to him, a devilish delivery was thudded in by the onrushing head of Lockyer. Luton’s intensity had its rich reward.
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Could Sunderland respond? The prospects did not look good when, straight after the restart, Patterson squirted a terrible pass straight to Clark and watched in relief as his opponent sliced the finish. Then Adebayo miscued a deliberate cross from Cody Drameh and there was a sense Luton felt primed to kill the tie. When Drameh chased Jack Clarke down and won yet another corner that brought further uncertainty for Sunderland, the difference between these sides was laid bare again.
It spoke volumes that Mowbray felt obliged to bring on the giant, fit-again defender Aji Alese for a swamped Alex Pritchard even though Sunderland craved a goal. Alese immediately chased back to deny a clean-through Adebayo; the visitors needed to establish a platform somehow.
Roberts briefly made headway with a run in from the right before dragging wide. But Luton did not look like a team about to let this go. They were first to every ball, harrying and charging down, and as the minutes ticked down they looked entirely secure.
A rare unbroken spell of Sunderland passing saw Roberts shoot waywardly again. Edwards waved Luton forward, keen that they should avoid the pitfall of dropping too deep. They saw things out in surprising comfort, Drameh missing at the death, although nobody should be shocked by anything this group achieves from here.
