Vale Park, Burslem, Stoke-on-Trent.

3rd Round, Carabao Cup.

Wednesday 24 September, 2025. 8PM kick-off.

We were beaten, yes — 2-0 by a far superior Arsenal side. It was like steering a battered trawler into the path of a gleaming frigate – Arsenal cut through us with the ease of seasoned mariners, while we clung to driftwood in a rising tide.

We knew the sea would swell. We braced for the surge. We expected to be overwhelmed, swallowed whole by the tide of red. But that did not happen. Instead, we held our coarse. The waves battered us, relentless and unforgiving, but we did not capsize. We stayed afloat — weathered, worn, but unbroken.

The team sheet — the crew picked for this voyage — was surprising. No Garrity, no Byers, no Ojo, no Devante Cole in the starting eleven. Veterans of many storms. Men of grit, quality, and leadership. Their absence felt deliberate, like a message scrawled in salt: We know the sea will take us. Let it. A shrug in the face of the inevitable.

We have struggled in the league. Perhaps that matters more than this cup competition. Perhaps this was not surrender, but strategy. We are setting our priorities. Survival in the choppy waters of League One is the goal — the land we sail towards. The cup may be a siren song, but we will not be lured from our course.

Next port: Barnsley. Saturday. The last time we docked there, we were sunk — 7-0, a wreckage strewn across the pitch. That cannot happen again. Not now. Not with the storm clouds gathering and the league table tightening like a noose.

One more thing — a gripe, if you will. We didn’t throw a single punch. No yellow cards. No Arsenal player needing treatment, no stretcher summoned. No hysteria from Arteta on the touchline. It was all too civil, too quiet. Maybe we’re just picking our battles. Maybe we’ve learned that survival isn’t about flailing in the storm — it’s about knowing when to strike, and when to sail on.

We sail on. Scarred, stubborn, and still afloat.