I used to watch a lot of professional cycling. I’d watched the Tour de France since the 1980s, but in the 2010s the increasing prominence of British riders and accessible races on TV made it a compelling watch all year round. 

Cycling has its own quirky culture, each team is named after its sponsor, Alpecin-Deceunink is not an obscure French Alpine town, it’s the combination of a shampoo and a Belgian window manufacturer. It would be like us reverting to being called Team Baxi-Caprinos, which I don’t hate, by the way.

Each season new teams would appear from nothing. The team that is currently Soudal-Quick-Step (a glue and a vinyl flooring company), were once called Deceunink-Quick-Step, whereas the Alpecin (of Alpecin-Deceunink fame) sponsored Katusha Alpecin. Katusha Alpecin and Deceunink-Quick-Step have no link with Alpecin-Deneunink. Are you still with me?

Riders would change teams frequently, so it was easy to mix up Luis Leon and Samuel Sanchez or Dan and Tony Martin. One of the reasons they could do that was because the structure of a professional bike race is highly regimented. Teams ‘allow’ a breakaway to form – a small group of riders, analogous to its fabled history of heroic madmen who’d race for hours solo to win races. Nowadays such is the homogeneity of the peloton, the breakaway never truly escapes, they just ride blankly for a few hours before being caught by the other teams who then race the final few kilometres for the win.

In other words, the same riders, the same teams, the same race over and over again. Even the most dedicated cycling fan will admit that it’s possible to avoid huge proportions of a race and not miss anything of significance.

The Championship feels a bit like that sometimes; our last three home games have been against Gary Rowett’s former teams, three of five he’ll face this season. Alex Neil at Millwall has managed four. Neil, Rowett and John Eustace have all managed Derby. Neil, Rowett, Robins and Eustace have all managed or played for Stoke. Last night both Robins and Rowett were dressed all in black, if you swapped their club badges over and put them in opposite dugouts, they wouldn’t have looked out of place.

Despite both Stoke and Millwall fans barracking Rowett’s footballing style, all three teams play in a similar way. It’s like the Championship is reaching the same singularity that cycling has reached. It’s less about style and tactics and more about physicality – everyone knows what everyone else is going to do, the question is who can do it faster and stronger. If you wonder why Tyler Goodrham isn’t getting a look-in at the moment, I’m going to start with the fact he’s 5ft 5inches tall and isn’t built like a powerlifter.

Maybe this constant recycling of the same product contributed to the veil of apathy that drifted across Kassam last night. Last season, everything was a novelty, this season things are more normal, the fact it was a midweek fixture in the rain, on TV, and three days after the Millwall game made it less appealing for the more casual fan. 

Before the game, the club ran a barely audible interview with Gary Rowett; a combination of the stadium sound system not being crisp enough and Rowett’s gravelly tone not penetrating the ambient noise around the ground. I did catch him saying something about ‘anyone from 3rd to 10th can beat each other’ which certainly seems to be true, but offers little comfort when you’re 18th.

Stoke were another team we’ve faced this season who were sitting in third place before the game, the first was Bristol City away, who were unbeaten and hoping to go second. They’ve since slipped back to seventh. The second was Millwall, who’d won four in a row but have now slipped to fourth after drawing with us and being comprehensively beaten by Birmingham. Stoke were the third.

Maybe we were encouraged by our results against City and Millwall because we started aggressively, there was an abundance of corners, Stan Mills raided the flanks, Michel Helik had a shot inside the six yard box, Greg Leigh heading into the side netting when he should have scored, it all felt ominously promising. 

Then, with crushing efficiency they galloped out of defence on the counter-attack, sweeping from left to right, Cummings parried, Lewis Baker tapped in. While the style of play didn’t seem that different from ours, the speed, crispness and accuracy left us wheezing. 

Nzonzi added a second and the crowd slipped into a stupor of acceptance. It was odd, like against Brighton, we were competitive while being comprehensively beaten. 

And so it continued, early in the second half while threatening again, Mills launched an audacious crossy lobby thing that the keeper had to tip over. Seconds later they turned us around and Baker made it three. It was like the scene in Indiana Jones when he’s attacked by a masked man who elaborately brandishes his sword, flicking it from hand to hand and over his head before Jones pulls a gun from its holster and simply shoots him dead.

It could have got embarrassing but unlike last season against Middlesbrough we stayed resolute. Even as the stands emptied the fans maintained a relentless rhythm, that in itself is encouraging, we seemed to chosen to accept the challenge and appreciate the effort of the team. There’s solidarity even in defeat. If we’re going to be beaten by a better, stronger, faster, sharper team, let’s just accept that fact and move on. 

We trudged home, in silence, not out of frustration, but more in contemplation, there was little to say, little criticism of the manager, his tactics or his players. Cameron Brannagan and Gary Rowett were critical of themselves, but Stoke were the best team we’ve played this season, even at our best we wouldn’t have beaten them.

It feels like every step of progress we make, the Championship takes two. If we sign a six foot five striker in January, you know someone will sign a six foot seven defender to counter them.

Accepting defeat? Relegation mentality? I don’t think so, knowing when you’re beaten is easier to process than believing there’s something we could have done about it. The issue, perhaps, is that Stoke, Millwall, and clubs like them look so similar it gives us a blueprint which gives us hope. Frustrating, difficult, grinding hope.