It is shortly after 1pm, and into the Carlisle United dressing room walks George McVitie. "This used to be a gym when I was here," the old winger says, before treating the handful of other ex-players present to an anecdote about how Ivor Powell, his former manager, used to head a medicine ball six times during team-talks.

At 68, McVitie is the most senior figure due to play in Tony Hopper's charity game. "Until last Thursday, the last time I kicked a ball was 10 years ago, and that was just a penalty," he says, recalling an exhibition match at Gretna.

"Anyway, two of us had a practice this week. You still think you're a kid, but when I took a corner…" McVitie grips the back of his leg and mimes an injury.

Pete Hampton, the former United player and physio, spots McVitie. "Right, Geordie, I'll mark you."

The trickle of Blues heroes becomes a stream. In strolls Steve Hayward, 1997's Wembley king, a bag over his shoulder. "What time did you finish last night?" someone asks, as he flops onto a bench. Hayward grimaces. "About four in the morning." Steve Harkness, sat a few yards away, trumps Hayward with 4.50am.

The old boys are gathering again after the first phase of the reunion, a function in Foxy's Restaurant the previous night, had continued into Carlisle city centre. The ale had gone down nicely but the prospect of heart, lungs and limbs getting a workout on Brunton Park's grass is more daunting.

Shepherded from the dressing room back into Foxy's, they greet all the others from Carlisle and Workington, all here to play for Tony Hopper - or, in Mick Wadsworth's case, manage.

"Here's the legend," says Wadsworth as Darren Edmondson appears through the door, grinning. Fellow coach David Wilkes points to Derek Mountfield. "We used to call him Doubtful Derek, because of his injuries," Wilkes laughs.

There is a hum of chat and reminiscence, and man-hugs, as the room fills with names from two clubs' past: Skelton, Varty, Boyd, Prokas, Delap, Murray, Glennon. As three red United shirts are laid out, to be signed by all the players, co-organiser Ian Milburn takes the microphone. "Thanks all of you for turning up, have yourselves a good day, and we'll have a good catch-up. Now, the Workington lads will get changed in the Neil Centre, and Carlisle in the changing rooms. For the Carlisle lads, Dolly [physio Neil Dalton] started doing rubs three hours ago, so form an orderly queue."

Back to the dressing room, where Derek Walsh reaches into a bag for shorts. "We've got large, extra-large and XXL," he says. Matt Jansen arrives, looking inevitably younger than his 39 years, followed by Scott Dobie. "I'll be on the bench, as usual," the latter says.

In the corridor, Wadsworth and Wilkes confide. "We're going to play 2-4-4 - aggressive," says United's 1995 boss. Later, asked what further tactical instructions he will give, Wadsworth says: "I haven't got any. Just spread out and do what you want. Just like I used to tell them."

A team of Hopper's old Carlisle YTS colleagues will start the game. Wilkes reads out the names, and Rory Delap rises from his bench. "Get practising your long-throws, Rozza," calls Hayward. Dean Walling follows them out of the dressing room and turns the wrong way, before correcting himself.

Wadsworth next welcomes Tony Gallimore, left-back from the 1990s golden era, here to watch. Mountfield is another non-combatant. "Maybe I should be playing," he says. "My ankle's fused, so I might be able to keep the ball in play instead of Row Z."

The many players talk of old times and of Tony Hopper, who himself then arrives, shaking scores of hands. They all cross the pitch for a team photo in the Pioneer Stand. As photographers line them up, one of the group shouts: "Get Jason Prins on!"

Colin Carter, on the mic, then introduces them to the crowd. "We'll see one or two spectacular performances today," announces the co-organiser. "And one or two that might need a defibrillator."

Hopper is welcomed through a guard of honour, receiving nearly two minutes of applause. Then: the game, starting with a run from Delap and a gliding move from Jansen, past two red shirts before he shoots and falls over.

These timeless cameos continue. Edmondson survives a tigerish 50-50 with Paul Murray and emerges with the ball. "It's walking football," someone on the Reds bench says. There are goals, dubious penalties, the occasional paunch. Grant Holt zips forward for Workington, dinks a shot onto the roof of the net. For Carlisle there is an old-school passing move: Hayward to Allan Smart, to Rod Thomas on the right, back inside to Hayward; then perhaps the worst pass the former captain ever played in a blue shirt. He shakes his head and laughs.

Next, Thomas hits the deck, unopposed, his achilles damaged; Hampton helps him off. McVitie then comes on, back in the blue kit after all these years. He greets the crowd, receives and crosses the ball with a stumble, and then comes off, arm in arm with Wadsworth, every step cheered. By the Reds dugout, manager Dave Hewson limbers up. "Come on, Ravanelli," someone teases.

The Hopper brothers enter, Darren and David, followed by Tony, defying his motor neurone disease diagnosis for a poignant 10-minute cameo. They are united in blue, and the number eight. After Tony scores, and the game ends 7-6, another guard of honour sees Tony, flanked by Darren and David, take his tearful leave. Sympathy and support surges towards him.

Later, the stadium emptied, the decent and unassuming man for whom everyone was here speaks by the tunnel entrance. He wants to thank everyone who has organised and attended, and hopes the fans enjoyed the spectacle. "A lot of these players were part of a successful era at Carlisle, when there was a really good rapport with the supporters. They were some of the best times of my career."

Tony is asked about the brotherly finale. "I'm not sure they've played on Brunton Park before, maybe junior finals at the most," he says. "So it was nice for them, nice for the family, to be all on the same pitch."

He talks of memories, old and new. "Every one of those players that turned up, they've created memories to last a lifetime. And many of them are still friends today. Lads like Rory, Mark Cleeland, Dolly...I've known them since I was eight or nine-year-old. We went through it all together. We've always been there for each other."

It is moving to hear these words, and also when Tony says the community's support has helped him through "hard times" since his unbearably cruel diagnosis. But there is also lightness in the air. Outside the ground, beneath the steps to the Sunset Suite, Steve Hoolickin, 65, is wearing a blue sports jacket and enjoying a cigarette.

"It was great. Brilliant," he says. "It's the first time I've been back for years. There was no way I was gonna get changed, but when I got in there they said, 'No - you are'. And you know what? When I opened the kitbag, there was the number two on my shirt - the number I wore all my life."

He takes another drag. "I had my hip replaced a few years ago and they say I can't even jog - which, as you saw, I never did. 'Cos I'd dislocate it in 10 minutes. The wife phoned me earlier. I fly on holiday on Wednesday and she said, 'I hope you're not playing'. Oh no, no, I said."

Hoolickin had flown from Brighton to Newcastle before heading to Carlisle for the reunion. He had taken the field with his former United and Oldham team-mate McVitie - "two kids together" - and has a wonderfully sunny expression when he says it was also the first time he and son Lee, who was among the Workington number, had been on the same pitch together.

Generations united, as well as clubs and Cumbrian places, for one man. "I've known Tony since he was a boy," Hoolickin adds. "I lived in Carlisle for a long, long time. It's very sad. Very emotional. But it's a pleasure to have come."

The Sunset Suite is warm and bustling with old players, fans and friends, as a tender and nostalgic day nears its end. Tony Hopper walks towards the steps to join the gathering. The big reunion has served its purpose, for he is wearing the most spontaneous smile.

"Bet you enjoyed that, didn't you, son?" Hoolickin says, giving him a long hug. Eventually they break. "Go on - go and get a pint, mate."