‘They're calling us Dad's Army, sir,' said Lee Tomlin, the Assistant Manager, in the dugout before the Salford game. ‘They can call us whatever they like as long as we take home the three points today’ replied Newton.
Pre-season took the squad to Scotland - five games against local opposition to build fitness and cohesion. Wadja claimed he'd never been so cold in his life. 'Good luck in December,' came the taunts from the rest of the squad. The season started disastrously. Four losses in the first six games. One draw. One win. Dumped out of the Carabao Cup by Nottingham Forest. The players looked lost. Opportunities slipped by. Defenders missed assignments. The cohesion that won the National League title? Gone. Replaced by eleven individuals wearing the same shirt.
Newton identified the problem: Blackman, the 33-year-old goalkeeper, wasn't good enough for this level. Enter Ted Curd. Twenty years old, released by Chelsea, strong across all attributes. He could organize, command his area, and stop shots Blackman wouldn't reach. Before the transfer deadline, another addition: Charles Sagoe Jr, the Arsenal reject. Spells on loan at Swansea and Shrewsbury. Released at 22. The scouts were unanimous: "Too good for League Two." Newton wanted proof. September brought the turnaround. Three straight wins - Newport 3-2, Barrow 4-3, Crewe 3-1. Goals weren't the problem. But why were they conceding so many? The answer was familiar: cohesion. Just like the National League season, the upgraded defence needed time to gel. Curd organized from the back. Williams and MacDonald learned each other's movements. After match experience and team bonding, things gradually improved.
After 8 games, Morecambe sat 8th with 13 points. The message boards erupted: 'Dad's Army can't hack League Two.' But Newton saw something others didn't. The underlying numbers were strong - xG 1st in the league, xGA middle of the pack. The system worked. They just needed time. October changed everything. Four straight wins. The defence finally gelled - Williams and MacDonald reading each other, Curd organizing from the back. The wingbacks started landing crosses on Buabo's head. Santa Cruz came off the bench and scored, then scored again, then kept scoring. Santa Cruz grabbed headlines, but the team carried Morecambe. Buabo and Muskwe added 22 goals between them by Christmas. Dixon's overlapping runs terrorized defences. Sagoe Jr proved the scouts right - he was too good for this level, tearing through League Two with pace Arsenal had discarded. And the spine? Williams and MacDonald at the back, Wadja and Ndong destroying attacks, Curd organizing everything. The retirement home was outrunning, outfighting, and outsmarting teams half their age. By the end of November, Morecambe had won 10 of 16 games and climbed to 3rd. By Christmas? 1st place.
Late November. A knock on Newton's office door. 'Boss, we need to talk.' Santa Cruz entered, looking exhausted. At 44, the body doesn't recover like it used to. The pace had caught up with him. Thirteen goals in sixteen appearances, but every game hurt more than the last. 'It's time,' Santa Cruz said. 'January. I want to go home.' Newton nodded. He'd known this was coming. 'Then let's make your final game one to remember.'
January 2nd, 2027. Morecambe vs Shrewsbury. The Mazuma Mobile Stadium was packed. Everyone knew what this meant. 19th minute: Free kick, 25 yards out. Santa Cruz stepped up. The crowd held its breath. Right-footed strike, top corner. 1-0. Unstoppable. The place erupted. 44th minute: Corner whipped in. Santa Cruz, 44 years old, outjumped two defenders. Header. 2-0. The stands shook with noise. 67th minute: Another corner. Three defenders surrounding him. Somehow, Santa Cruz rose highest. Powered it home. 3-0. Hat-trick. In his final game. At 44 years old. The substitution board went up: Number 9. Roque Santa Cruz. The entire stadium rose. Standing ovation. Players from both teams applauded. Teammates embraced him. Sixteen goals in seventeen league games. At an age when most men are watching from the stands, he'd been Player of the Match in his final appearance. As he walked down the tunnel one last time, Newton allowed himself a rare moment of emotion. The £800-per-week gamble had paid off in ways statistics could never capture.
By the time Santa Cruz retired, Morecambe sat 1st in League Two. 49 points from 24 games. The Dad's Army joke had aged poorly. In the dressing room after his final match, MacDonald raised a glass: 'To the old man who showed us how it's done.' But a problem loomed. Santa Cruz had scored 16 goals - roughly one every 90 minutes he played. Without him, could Buabo and Muskwe carry the load alone? The board's target was still 'avoid relegation.' Newton's target? Prove that experience, cohesion, and the 4-4-2 could win promotion in their first League Two season. Twenty-two games remained. The legend was gone. The consolidation was about to be tested.