The question of where Sunderland AFC Women should call “home? isn’t simply about bricks, grass and turnstiles.
Instead, it cuts right to the heart of what the women’s team is, who it’s for, and how seriously
the club and the wider footballing world are prepared to take it.
In recent years, as the Lasses have reestablished themselves in the upper tiers of the pyramid and the women’s game has gathered momentum nationally, the suitability of Eppleton Colliery Welfare Ground has come under increasing scrutiny.
On paper, the club’s women’s side belongs to a major football institution with a 49,000‑seat stadium on the banks of the Wear. In practice, they’re based at a 2,500‑capacity ground in Hetton‑le‑Hole, with all the charm and complications that entails.
To understand whether Eppleton remains the right home, it’s necessary to overlook nostalgia and frustration and look squarely at what the ground offers, what it lacks, and what it symbolises. Geography, transport, parking, amenities, attendances, atmosphere, the tactical realities of the pitch and the alternative represented by the Stadium of Light all need to be weighed together.
Two to three years ago, I wrote a similar article years ago on what keeps fans away from watching the Lasses at Eppleton. It spoke to many of issues such as awkward Sunday kick offs, cost‑of‑living pressure, low‑key marketing and the simple difficulty of getting to Hetton if you don’t live nearby.
Those themes still ring true, but the picture has shifted slightly as the game has grown and as the club has experimented more with games at the Stadium of Light.
Eppleton’s geographical location is both part of its appeal and part of its problem. Hetton is steeped in mining heritage and working‑class identity — and Eppleton Colliery Welfare Ground is exactly the kind of place where football feels knitted into the life of a community rather than sitting apart from it.
For longtime supporters, the ground carries memories of youth games, local ties, and a sense that the Lasses are still closely connected to the roots of the region.
Sunderland Women aren’t tucked away in an anonymous training complex — they’re visible in a town that understands graft, resilience and collective pride. That creates a sense of authenticity which many supporters cherish, and particularly those who feel somewhat alienated by the commercialism of the top end of the men’s game.
However, what feels local and rooted to one person can feel remote and inconvenient to another.
The very fact that Eppleton is in Hetton rather than the centre of Sunderland makes it awkward for a significant chunk of the potential audience. There’s no Metro stop, no easy stroll from the city centre and no simple hop from Shields, Newcastle or Durham. For supporters without a car — particularly younger fans or families who might be bringing children to their first women’s game — the journey can seem like more work than it’s worth.
Sunday afternoon fixtures, often with early or slightly odd kick off times dictated by broadcasts or scheduling, can make it even harder to justify the trip, especially in winter when daylight is short and the North East weather isn’t exactly welcoming.
Public transport does technically exist, but it doesn’t operate with the frequency or convenience that turns a matchday into an easy habit. Buses run, but not on a pattern designed around football crowds, and the walk from stop to the ground isn’t always obvious if you don’t know the area.
For a committed core, this is all just part of the routine: you plan, you drive, you share lifts and you work it out.
For the more casual or curious supporter — the person the women’s game needs to attract to grow beyond its hard core — these frictions stack up. None of them are individually insurmountable. Together, they form a quiet, persistent deterrent.
Parking is a good example of that cumulative effect.
Eppleton doesn’t have the parking infrastructure of a major stadium — and it was never designed to. Matchdays often involve a slightly improvised dance of cars dotting around local streets, shared car parks and patchwork solutions.
Locals tend to be tolerant, and there’s a kind of grassroots charm in seeing ordinary estates absorb the matchday traffic in the way they have for decades at non‑league grounds across the country. But for visitors or for those who arrive later than planned, it can be stressful and confusing. Bigger games only amplify the issue, as more cars arrive than the immediate area can comfortably absorb.
In contrast, the Stadium of Light is built to usher tens of thousands in and out with relative efficiency.
Multiple official car parks, stewarding, signage and a road network moulded around Premier League‑era crowds mean that even a modest turnout for a women’s fixture benefits from that infrastructure.
Combined with the Stadium of Light Metro station and strong public transport links, it delivers a smoother, more predictable logistical experience from front door to seat and back again. That kind of reliability matters — especially for families, disabled supporters and those travelling from outside Sunderland — and it’s one of the clearest areas where the big stadium is objectively superior.
Amenities tell a similar story.
Eppleton offers what you would expect of a small, traditional football ground: toilets, a small food hut, limited indoor space and a basic but functional seated stand. For regulars, this suffices. They know what they’re getting, they dress for the weather and they accept that this isn’t a Premier League experience.
However, as the women’s game increasingly pitches itself as a family‑friendly day out and as rival clubs invest in their fan experience, Eppleton’s limitations become more glaring. If you’ve queued in cold rain for a single food outlet with limited choice or tried to juggle a coffee, a child and a programme without anywhere to take shelter, you immediately feel the gap between aspiration and reality.
The Stadium of Light, of course, was purpose‑built for a very different scale.
Multiple kiosks, covered concourses, accessible toilets, proper hospitality spaces and comfortable seating make the matchday feel more polished. It’s easier to get a drink, easier to buy food, and easier to keep warm and mostly dry in miserable weather. For someone attending their first women’s match, it offers an experience that says “big club” — and that matters at a time when visibility, optics and perceived seriousness are central to how women’s football is judged.
Yet that strength comes with a paradox: the infrastructure impresses, but if the stands are sparse and the noise is thin, the overall impression can still feel underwhelming or even sad.
This is where attendance and atmosphere intersect in complicated ways.
On the face of it, the growth of crowds for women’s football in England is one of the game’s success stories. We have seen record‑breaking attendances in the WSL and WSL2, including the at the Wear-Tyne/Tyne-Wear derby at the Stadium of Light (an attendance of 15,387 last season) and St James’s Park (38,502 last season and 18,972 this season). Those headline numbers show what is possible in the right circumstances: local rivalry, strong marketing, a big stadium, and a sense of occasion.
However, those “spike events” don’t reflect the reality of week‑to‑week football at Eppleton, as Sunderland Women typically attract crowds measured in the high hundreds at best, and low hundreds at worst.
Eppleton’s 2,500 capacity — with just 250 seats — means that a turnout which would look completely lost at the Stadium of Light can feel warm and alive in Hetton. When 800 or 1,200 people are gathered tightly around the pitch, the sound collects and carries. You feel every shout, hear every instruction, and sense the emotional texture of the game.
That intimacy is one of the defining qualities of women’s football and a big part of what draws people back. The players can hear individual voices, recognise regulars, and feel tangibly supported even when the numbers are modest.
Move that same crowd into a 49,000‑seat bowl and the arithmetic of atmosphere turns against you.
The singing sections might do their best, but the sound dissipates into empty tiers of red plastic and the camera pans across swathes of unoccupied seats. What felt like a healthy, noisy and committed crowd at Eppleton suddenly looks anaemic and isolated. This isn’t because the fans have become any less passionate — it’s because the scale of the environment dwarfs them and in terms of pure atmosphere per person, Eppleton wins hands down.
The psychological effect on players shouldn’t be underestimated either.
At Eppleton, the pitch is tight, the supporters are close, and the environment feels manageable, almost personal. The Lasses know every blade of grass, every echo and every sightline.
Visiting teams often comment on how awkward and intense it can be to play there — and that isn’t an accident. Sunderland’s women have historically built their identity on organisation, work rate and intensity, pressing hard, working in tight units and transitioning quickly, and so a more compact pitch allows those strengths to surface more naturally.
The Stadium of Light, meanwhile, offers a pitch closer to the standard of the elite men’s game: wide, long, demanding physical range and positional discipline in larger spaces.
It’s not that women can’t or shouldn’t play on such a surface, as many top women’s sides do so brilliantly. But the reality is that the squad depth, conditioning and tactical patterns in the WSL2 aren’t always perfectly tuned to that scale and Sunderland have sometimes looked stretched there, both physically and mentally.
When the ball is on the far side of the pitch; when the crowd noise is diffused and when runs have to cover an extra few yards every time, the burden can tell. The Lasses often seem to struggle on the big pitch of the Stadium of Light, and that impression is widely shared among fans who’ve watched them in both venues.
The pitch isn’t the only thing that changes inside a stadium — the expectations do as well.
Players talk about feeling the difference of walking out of a tunnel into a huge bowl they share with the men’s team. It can be inspiring, but it can also be intimidating and emotionally draining if the stands are only sparsely populated. The same space that’s electric when 40,000 roar can feel eerily quiet when there are a couple of thousand dotted around. You sense the ghosts of what the stadium could be, and that can weigh on a team trying to play its best and most instinctive football.
However, none of this means that the Stadium of Light should be rejected out of hand as it remains a powerful symbol of ambition and parity, and when Sunderland Women step onto that pitch, under that roof and in front of that crest, the optics are clear: this club takes its women’s side seriously enough to put them on the main stage.
Major events such as a Wear-Tyne derby, a promotion push or a cup tie against a big name deserve and benefit from that setting. Record‑chasing attendances at the Stadium of Light don’t just generate nice headlines — they create memories for supporters and players that Eppleton, with all its character, simply can’t.
The question, then, isn’t “Eppleton or the Stadium of Light, now and forever?” but “How do we balance what each offers at this stage of the journey?”
Eppleton supplies week‑to‑week atmosphere, a pitch that suits the team, and continuity of identity, whereas the Stadium of Light supplies infrastructure, visibility, and a platform for growth.
There are very real barriers that keep fans away from Eppleton — including the cost and time of travel, competing weekend duties, limited marketing and a lingering sense that women’s fixtures are somewhat peripheral compared to the men’s programme.
Most of those factors are still in play but what’s changed is that we now have more evidence of what can be achieved when the women’s team is placed front and centre at the main stadium with a proper promotional push.
Crucially, though, those big events don’t automatically translate into consistent attendance growth, and someone who turns up for a record‑breaking derby may not be prepared to trek to Hetton for a mid‑table clash in the wind and rain.
That’s not necessarily a failure — it’s just a reminder that the pathways to being a regular fan of Sunderland Women are varied. Some will be drawn in through the Stadium of Light spectacle and then gradually discover Eppleton’s raw charm, and others will always prefer the intimacy of Hetton and the feeling that they’re part of a tight‑knit community and not just one face among thousands.
There is also a structural reality at play.
Sunderland Women remain part of a club operating within financial constraints, navigating the complicated economics of both men’s and women’s football. Opening the Stadium of Light is expensive; staffing, stewarding, utilities and operational costs all rise, and for a typical WSL2 fixture, the sums may simply not make sense unless a certain attendance threshold is realistically achievable.
Eppleton, in contrast, is far cheaper to operate and easier to fit around training schedules and day‑to‑day logistics. Any conversation about moving the women’s team permanently to the Stadium of Light has to grapple honestly with those financial and practical considerations — particularly given the men play there also and it would require much more ground maintenance and work to be completed.
Beyond the numbers, there’s also the question of what “home” actually feels like.
Eppleton is where the Lasses have earned promotions, endured difficult seasons, and rebuilt. It’s where young fans have waited at the barriers for selfies and autographs and where families have grown into the habit of making that slightly awkward trip, because once you’re inside, everything feels close, human and real.
That kind of emotional capital simply can’t be transplanted overnight. The Stadium of Light has the potential to become that kind of home if the women were to play there regularly, but it would take time, patience and consistent investment in matchday experience — not just sporadic showcase games.
The most realistic and constructive way forward — at least in the medium term — lies in embracing a “hybrid model” with honesty rather than embarrassment.
Eppleton can remain the beating heart of Sunderland Women, the place where regular league fixtures are contested on a pitch that suits the team and in front of a crowd that feels present and loud. The Stadium of Light can be used strategically: for derbies, promotion six‑pointers, family‑themed events in school holidays and fixtures chosen to coincide with wider club campaigns.
Over time, as the core audience grows and the club’s capacity to market and support the women’s programme expands, the balance could tip naturally toward more games at the big stadium — and that evolution would feel earned rather than imposed.
Seen in that light, the advantages and disadvantages of Eppleton become less about right versus wrong and more about fit versus aspiration.
Eppleton isn’t perfect.
Its location, parking, amenities and accessibility do hold the team back from reaching some supporters who might otherwise come along. Yet it’s also the place where the women’s side currently looks and feels most like itself: compact, combative, close to its people. The Stadium of Light, meanwhile, is the future horizon, a venue that matches the scale of Sunderland’s name and the ambition of the women’s game, but which can still feel too big for where things are, week in, week out.
In the end, the real task isn’t simply to choose a ground, but to build a culture that makes either venue genuinely feel alive.
Better promotion, clearer information about travel and parking, coordinated lifts and coach schemes from the city centre, stronger links with schools and community groups in both Sunderland and Hetton, and visible, consistent messaging from the club that the women’s team are central to its identity. These things matter just as much as bricks and seats — and if those foundations are laid, Eppleton and the Stadium of Light stop being opposing options and instead become two different stages on the same journey.
For now, Eppleton remains both a blessing and a constraint. It’s awkward to reach but rewarding once you arrive. It lacks polish but offers connection. It does not scream ambition, but it whispers something more important: that football can still belong to ordinary people in ordinary places, even as it strives to grow.
Whatever the future holds and whether Sunderland AFC Women eventually take up permanent residence at the Stadium of Light or a new solution emerges, Eppleton will remain a vital chapter in their story — the small ground in Hetton where the Lasses kept going, kept competing, and kept inviting people in even when so many forces conspired to keep them away.
All of this comes with an important caveat, one that’s essential to state clearly: this article hasn’t been written to shame anyone, guilt trip anyone or imply that supporters “should” be attending women’s matches.
Football fandom is deeply personal, shaped by time, money, geography, habit, identity and emotional bandwidth. People support what they can, when they can, and in ways that make sense for their own lives.
The intention here isn’t to push an agenda or to suggest that those who don’t attend games any Eppleton are somehow “lesser” supporters. Instead, the aim is to understand the barriers and to consider what might realistically help those who are curious, interested or on the fence as they consider whether to take that next step and give the women’s game a try.
That distinction matters, because the conversation around women’s football can sometimes slip into moralising — as if attendance is a test of virtue rather than a choice shaped by practical realities.
Sunderland supporters are among the most loyal and emotionally invested in the country, but loyalty doesn’t magically overcome bus timetables, childcare, shift work, tight budgets or the simple fact that Hetton isn’t easy to reach. Recognising those realities is not an excuse; instead, it’s the starting point for meaningful improvement.
If the club wants to grow the women’s fanbase, it must meet people where they are, not where we wish they were, and to their credit, some steps have already been taken.
One of the most visible improvements at Eppleton has been the upgraded TV gantry, which has significantly improved the quality of live streams and broadcast footage. This might seem like a small detail, but it matters, as better coverage increases visibility, helps to attract new supporters and gives the players the professional platform they deserve. It also signals that the club is willing to invest in the infrastructure around the women’s team — not just the bare minimum required to host matches.
Supporters themselves have also stepped up in ways that deserve recognition.
The Sunderland Women Supporters Group has spent its own money on flags, banners and visual displays to decorate Eppleton and create a more vibrant, welcoming matchday environment.
These efforts aren’t cosmetic — they contribute to atmosphere, identity and pride. They make the ground feel lived‑in and loved, and they show new supporters that this is a team with a community behind it. In many ways, the SWSG’s work embodies the spirit of women’s football: grassroots, collaborative, and driven by passion rather than profit.
Ultimately, the question of Eppleton versus the Stadium of Light is not a binary choice but a spectrum of possibilities.
The women’s team doesn’t need to abandon its roots to embrace its future, and nor does it need to cling to tradition at the expense of ambition. What it needs — and what the supporters deserve — is a thoughtful, realistic plan that respects the unique strengths of both venues while addressing the barriers that keep potential fans away.
Eppleton will always be part of the story, but it doesn’t have to be the whole story forever.
For now, the task is simple: make it easier for people to come, make it enjoyable when they do, and make them feel part of something that matters. If the club can do that, with the help of supporters, volunteers, and the wider community, then the question of where Sunderland AFC Women play will eventually answer itself.
Growth will come not from pressure or guilt, but from connection, curiosity and the quiet, steady pull of a team worth supporting.
