Simon Lowe
the poor attacker it was aimed at, while Sam Vokes drove City’s one, late chance to rewrite the script and take the points directly at the keeper.
Of course he did. It was written in the stars. Not even 2020 could disrupt this level of inevitability.
In a rare moment of heart-fluttering anticipation in the first half, which could have changed everything, Tyrese Campbell had one of those moments when he shot directly into a challenging defender, 25 yards out, instead of playing the ball to an unmarked Mcclean.
It wasn’t to be. But somehow that was how it should be; all was right with the world.
Unlike the previous two goal-laden games, Stoke were slow in thought, movement and passing, rarely heaping pressure on a Wednesday defence which had clearly been drilled within an inch of its life by the arch-defensive-meister.
And, while bravery of the physical type was on show all over the pitch, City lost it in a footballing sense as we played safely, far too much in front of Wednesday and not enough through them to create opportunities.
It turned out, then, that we could take some sort of bizarre comfort from failing to beat our former manager yet again.
It was entirely, if frustratingly, yet somehow reassuringly, predictable.
In fact, the only thing that I got wrong in terms of my pre-match predictions was that it was Lee Gregory, not my selection of choice Nick Powell, who got invalided off the pitch early in the game.
Not that Powell wasn’t targeted, as was young goalkeeper Joe Bursik, but both stood up well to the inevitable barrage.
Aside from that, in the first half Jon Obi Mikel was impressive in midfield, while
Nathan Collins caught the eye at rightback, both offensively and defensively.
Like the wily old goat of a manager he is, TP soon stopped that by switching lively winger Kadeem Harris over to that wing for the second half, pressing back Stoke’s main attacking outlet.
And that was that. A game that was as forgettable as a wet weekend in Burslem.
But at the same time, it was like the comfort blanket we have all lost this year.
Like wearing your favourite jim-jams all day on a Sunday whilst watching Match of the Day, Quest and live football all day, chomping bacon and cheese oatcakes, followed by your mum’s roast with all the trimmings.
Thankfully, unlike those wonderful, heart-warming and tasty affairs, at least we only have to face TP once more this season.
Thank the lord for that.