Play-off verdict: Carlisle United 3 Bradford City 1 (3-2 aggregate)

There is a mad horde of folk near the tunnel, and a beaming face above them. It’s Owen Moxon, the lad from Denton Holme, carried on the shoulders of men from the same city, similar postcodes.

A whiff of smoke lingers. There are songs of Wembley, of super Paul Simpson. A bridgehead of police officers stands between some Carlisle fans on the pitch keen to taunt those from Bradford still in the Pioneer Stand (how about just enjoying the moment, lads?).

A while later, all is quiet. A lone member of United’s groundstaff removes shreds of toilet roll from various parts of Brunton Park. A few minutes more and the pitch, along with most of the stadium, is totally clear again, save for three figures in the centre circle. It is Paul Huntington – the captain, another Carlisle lad –  with his wife and young daughter, savouring a quiet, satisfied moment.

Sweet sights aplenty. Yet nowhere to be seen when chaos was seizing this old ground was the man who pushed the button to make it all happen.

Paul Simpson on the touchline (Image: Ben Holmes)

“I was a coward, I got down the tunnel as quickly as I could,” said Simpson, who reappeared once things had settled back down. As he worked through umpteen interviews with admirable patience, United’s manager considered how he’d toast the victory that night. “Beer or wine, I’m not sure,” he said, not ruling out both in the same glass.

Not champagne, mind you – not unless next Sunday goes to plan – but in all other ways this was a day of bubbles at Carlisle’s ground. In a footballing sense the Blues turned up on the big occasion: a force of nature in their defeating of a Bradford City who came with the stature but not, in this second leg, the panache.

In wider terms – in this period when United have been refreshed, rebuilt and relaunched by Simpson – it was the greatest day yet. A 15,000+ crowd, a first EFL play-off final secured. History made…plus the knowledge more is waiting to be claimed.

No wonder, all those things considered, that folk invaded the pitch, that many of the young ones had to be talked out of doing so before extra-time had finished. This was another day of Carlisle United sprinting far from the darkness that was enveloping them before last February. The bright spirit about them on May 20, 2023 took the breath away.

JK Gordon forces the opening goal (Image: Ben Holmes)

The players were, without qualification, superb. Pointless singling any out other, perhaps, than Ben Barclay, whose last act for United this season was to win a play-off semi-final. A penny for his thoughts when, in a week’s time, he’s watching his loan club taking on his parent club under the arch, the defender prevented from playing.

A bittersweet notion – but maybe, in the wake of Saturday, more sweet than bitter. To reach the fizzing finale, Carlisle had to summon reserves of energy and also establish a position of authority against a Bradford side with a one-goal lead in their first-leg pocket.

United rived it from the Bantams' grip with front-foot intent, bellowed on by the big crowd with their flags and balloons. After an initial scare, Richie Smallwood almost locating space in Carlisle’s box, JK Gordon hit the post – via a brilliant Harry Lewis goalkeeping touch. The attempt from the striker, straight back into the side from a three-game ban, lit a certain flame.

Callum Guy celebrates United's second goal (Image: Ben Holmes)

A few minutes later, Gordon’s poaching presence forced the opening goal, the ball going in via Brad Halliday’s defensive slide after Owen Moxon had rapped the visiting keeper’s gloves.

That emerged from an enterprising attack involving Joel Senior, another player who rose impressively. This second leg was not a quarter old and you knew more drama was to be unpacked. Jamie Walker hit the post for Bradford, Lewis denied Moxon with stupendous reflexes.

Carlisle were playing with muscle, belief, urgency. Alfie McCalmont covered so much turf in deep and advanced midfield he may be invited onto the groundstaff today. Corners were forced, defended. A speedy counter faded with a Gordon chip. Half-time. Breathe.

Then…a less punchy, more calculated and, to an forgivable degree, nervous second half. Joe Garner, a wily and purposeful attacking presence, went close before Callum Guy, a magnificent midfield competitor, accelerated to halt one of Scott Banks’ speedy Bradford surges.

The visitors had their time, but there was an indication of something when Andy Cook, their relentless goalscorer, fouled Corey Whelan needlessly and scowled at the Blues defender. Not his day here. Again.

Sub Taylor Charters goes close (Image: Ben Holmes)

Bradford had a better phase of possession, forced set-pieces, but Carlisle repelled them stoutly. Both managers went for substitutions and, as things unfolded further, it was United’s who were more dynamic: Omari Patrick, Ryan Edmondson, Taylor Charters gradually refreshing their play.

Then, extra-time: the ball drops from the sky, bounces and Guy fizzes it through a forest of bodies and into the net. In the second half, Banks leaves Huntington in his slipstream and Matt Derbyshire levels the tie. Mark Hughes immediately replaces the elusive Banks with a defender, Matty Platt; in its own way, an indication of intent.

Six minutes later, the ball is at the feet of that fellow from Denton Holme. A cross, a run, Barclay's glance – bedlam.

Bradford were finished, their relative tameness on the occasion finally exposed beyond comeback. United’s players went time and again to the well, defied cramp, defied Cook…and then the cork flew from the bottle.

Paul Simpson and his staff embrace at full-time (Image: Ben Holmes)

And as folk ran and cavorted and fell over and sang and turned Dave Mitchell’s lovely pitch into a sweaty dancefloor, you had to pause, just for a second, and take it in: so this is what it feels like, when Carlisle United is let completely loose from its shackles. This was the potential of the place writ large. And this was only the semi-final.

Imagine how it will be, if it now reaches an even higher crescendo at Wembley?