You couldn’t be prouder. As the full-time whistle sounded around Woodside Road, there was nothing but pride and applause. Danny Cashman stands, hands on hips, looking into thin air, wondering, searching for an answer… how did the ball not go in?

It was as good as any winning performance this season. At times Worthing were simply unplayable, let down only by the ability to place the ball into the back of Stuart Moore’s goal. Missed chances: it’s really not something that has been written about for a substantial length of time, but it’s the lead story on an afternoon that could have been so different.

There are 29 places between Morecambe and Worthing, yet as the steady stream of 3,110 in attendance slipped away onto the dark residential streets, no one would have thought that. Would it be irrational to say that Worthing were the better side? No, no it wouldn’t. Morecambe were fortunate to avoid further ignominy.

They’re a physical side, the Shrimpers. League Two personified, yet their dreary start to the campaign had brought a heap of hope to a Worthing side in fine form. But it was the visitors who struck first, and struck true. Jordan Slew, making his 100th appearance for the Shrimpers, rifled high into the netting with seven minutes played. Chris Haigh barely saw it as it flashed by his frame in an instant.

Cagey were the opening exchanges, Morecambe’s brute force was a blockade that would take some toppling. Glen Rea has spent much of career in the Football League, and his presence back in the base of the midfield was pivotal in ensuring the early pressure halted. It took until the 23rd minute for the Reds to have their first sight of the Shrimpers’ goal: Joe Cook placing his side-foot wide.

One chance brought a second. When in full flow Worthing are a joy to watch. It was the Willard-Wheeler combination, former sprays it to latter and suddenly there’s room for a shot. It’s dipping, swirling but Stuart Moore is alert, flinging himself to meet the path of the ball, and send it wide. The resulting corner is headed wide. The pressure builds.

Chris Agutter was missing his usual talisman in Mo Faal through suspension, and so Cashman was pushed higher up the pitch. In the shadows of Jamie Stott and Rhys Williams – a giant of a backline – Cashman’s movement was vital. He connected the dots, sparked the panic. Worthing’s best chance of the half involved pretty much every player clad in red, but the ball rolled to Cook and the finish flew over the crossbar.

Moore was the busier of the ‘keepers come the whistle for half time. Worthing grew with the game. Their sharpness, their intelligence – everything was ticking along in tandem, all that remained was that cherished leveller.

Then the second half commenced. The sound of the supporters tightly packed in surged and swirled around a capacity Woodside Road. They had liked what they had seen, and they were expectant. The same 22 returned, and the Reds looked a side refreshed. Intensity increased, and soon the chances arrived with consistency.

Willard couldn’t quite finish Joel Colbran’s caressed cross and Glen Rea flashed one just wide. Then the forward trio of Cashman, Willard and Spong combined beautifully to set up space, but the shot was clipped over. As the 60th-minute mark was crossed there was only one side that looked like scoring, yet Worthing’s missed opportunities kept Moore’s clean sheet in tact. For as good as Moore was between the posts, there was an abundance in off-target attempts. Surely, though, it was only a matter of time.

What often gets sides from divisions above over the line in situations such as these is fitness. Worthing were by no means flagging, but professional players will always have that edge, and the momentum began to slide in favour of the League Two outfit. Haigh had played a fine match, and his quality shined brightest in the space of a minute. First denying Marcus Dackers, then Callum Jones.

Riding the brief but turbulent waves of attack, the ball was back in Morecambe’s half. Willard, who had played superbly throughout, was replaced by Temi Babalola. Now the visiting backline had a very different presence to deal with. Moore was there again, fully stretched to tip over Rea’s acrobatic strike. Then Sam Beard saw his effort blocked away. Still the hope remained.

Harrison Smith joined in, but only five minutes remained. Morecambe swung in a cross, Rhys Williams’ connection was true, and the hope had faded. But that unique feeling of connection, the pride of a town, loomed heavy above the lights. They had given so much, fought to the very last kick, and walked off with dignity.

Hearts are heavy, but heads are high. This was the dream. The FA Cup First Round Proper. Over 3000 watching on. We lived it. We loved it. Years of hard work, a lifetime of anguish to get here. But fear not, my friend, for this is merely the beginning.