I’d like to pull on your coat for a minute and tell you a story. It’s about Cognitive Dissonance and Confirmation Bias – those psychological mechanisms that allow us to overlook reality and follow our own narrative. It’s about those moments when our beliefs simply refuse to line up with the evidence standing right in front of us, waving frantically and shouting: “Look at me! Look at me!” It’s about the way we contort ourselves to protect a belief we’ve grown attached to, because changing it feels uncomfortable, even threatening.

And as football fans, we’re particularly vulnerable to this. A player, a manager, a team can have a brilliant five‑game run before everything suddenly and inexplicably collapses. There are a hundred reasons why that can happen: a purple patch, luck, the quality of opponents, the cosmic lottery of the bouncing ball. Players and managers arrive on the back of promising spells elsewhere and… nothing. Still, we get swept up. Objectivity goes missing. Sometimes we simply decide someone is going to be good, for absolutely no reason at all.

So here we go. Cognitive Dissonance and Confirmation Bias. Here’s my story.

In July 2016, we signed Paulo Tavares from god‑knows‑where on a two‑year deal. And without seeing him kick a ball, before the season had even started, he became my Player of the Season. He was everything. Good beard. Good teeth. Statuesque. He has the perfect name for a continental playmaking midfielder. He looked magnificent in that home kit too (still my favourite strip of the 2000s; this season’s is a very close second – both relegation campaigns, which is unfortunate). Paulo was going to hit League One like a tornado. Tear the place apart. And I was ready to be his most devoted evangelist. The world was a perfect place.

At no point did I ever change my mind about Paulo. He was steady, if unspectacular, as the season began (but of course that was to be expected – a cultured player like Paulo needs time to adapt to League One and all this hoof-ball, I told myself). Then, as October slipped into November and the weather turned cold and wet, he began to fade (Again: totally understandable. Paulo was from a Mediterranean climate – we couldn’t expect him to immediately thrive in the Potteries drizzle. People need to learn to manage their expectations.)

Despite the mounting evidence – that he was a limited footballer who could just about hold his own when the sun was out, and who struggled badly when the mud replaced the grass – I clung to the belief that he would soon burst into life. Blossom and bloom. Paulo would be the glue that held our season together.

I could process what I was actually seeing perfectly well; I just refused to update my belief.

Criticism of Paulo felt personal. Every comment, every muttered gripe around the pubs (it almost turned extremely nasty in The Vine one Saturday) or in the ground, every post on social media and onevalefan made my blood boil. Heathens and non-believers. People calmly describing his weaknesses felt like acts of violence. Their perfectly reasonable thoughts – thoughts I knew were true – made me want to destroy worlds. I hated everyone.

Then Michael Brown took over in January after Bruno stepped down (honourably, to be fair to him). Paulo was frozen out. We got worse, not better. We were relegated. Paulo had his contract paid up and drifted off to Cyprus or Greece to play in their 37th division. I continued to follow him on Instagram until a gentle intervention brought that saga to an abrupt end. Would we have stayed up if he’d been first name on the team-sheet in the new year?

Undoubtedly. (And to this day, I genuinely still believe that.)

And this is why I smile at some of the stuff Vale fans are posting online at the moment. I know exactly where they’re coming from. I understand the refusal to move on from a belief, even when the truth is staring you down. Despite clear explanations that the Vale Foundation is separate from the club, that neither affects the other, there are still people insisting that delivering food parcels to elderly members of our community is the reason we don’t have a competent goalkeeper. That giving a 4-year-old some breakfast has made Ben Garrity injury prone.

What goes on in their heads?

But, here’s the thing, I get it, I honestly do. I get why people think like this. I have lived this nonsense. Paulo Tavares.

So, with all that out of the way, here’s my attempt at an objective view of the current situation.

Jon Brady.

I like him. I trust him. I think we’ll see an exciting side in League Two next season. I enjoy his post‑match interviews – he doesn’t resort to media‑trained clichés, he calls players out when necessary, he shows his frustration, he wears his heart on his sleeve. I like the passion on the touchline. It clearly means something to him.

Do I like everything he’s done? No. I’m unsure about some of the signings. On Tuesday night – during that horrific Vertu Trophy surrender – André Gray looked every inch the clapped‑out has‑been some feared he might be. Grant Ward spent 22 minutes running around without touching the ball. Hernández (already my Player of the Season, my new Paulo) did exactly the same in his 11 minutes. I get that those two – Grant and Hernandez – haven’t exactly been overloaded with work lately, probably spending plenty of time on the sofa, doom‑scrolling with This Morning on in the background, maybe a few daytime ciders to pass the hours. But we haven’t got time for players who need to get ‘up to speed.’

Magloire looked confused in defence, unsure of where he was supposed to be or what he was supposed to be doing. He made me weep for Jesse Debrah. Eli Campbell shows some spirit, but he was culpable for the first goal on Tuesday and for Burton’s second on Saturday. Players drift past him with far too much ease.

But there is an answer to this: a Director of Football. Jon will need – and deserves to have – some guidance and support from someone who knows the game inside out, particularly Leagues One and Two.

Do I think Carol should sell the club?

No. Absolutely not.

Is she getting everything right?

No. Absolutely not. Carol, and the Board, got it horrendously wrong with Darren Moore. In the face of overwhelming evidence they still believed that he could turn things around. That, that is worse than me with Paulo Tavares. Hands down. Hands fucking down.

Again, the solution is the same: a Director of Football. Someone who can take care of that side of the business. Carol can’t do it. Matt Hancock can’t do it. It’s an area that has been neglected. That needs to be acknowledged and remedied.

Carol selling up will not make our world a better place. Carol making changes could. That is within her gift. And there is absolutely no reason why a Director of Football cannot be appointed before the summer. Why wait? This season is a write-off, lets start getting things in place for next season.

Football is an emotional business, and belief – however irrational – is part of what keeps us going. We all have our Paulo Tavares moments, those players or ideas we cling to because letting go feels like losing a piece of ourselves. But at some point, if we want Vale to move forward, we need to step back from the noise, acknowledge our blind spots and look at what the evidence is actually telling us. Brady has something about him, the squad needs structure, and the club needs expertise in the right places. A Director of Football won’t cure everything overnight, but it might just help us put our energy back into the one thing we all agree on: wanting Port Vale to be better tomorrow than they were yesterday.