Weather forecasters have changed. There was a time when they were just an eccentric aside to the news. After the harsher realities of the day’s events, they were a light reminder that we’re all just guessing our way through life.

Nowadays, it’s all a deep science; weather systems are predicted weeks in advance, and are increasingly accurate, categories are applied, storms get names, people are expected to adapt their lives to accommodate. The weather is the news. In fact, while weather forecasting is increasingly science-ey, the news now seems to be made up of people guessing about the day’s biggest guesses.

For months now, meteorologists have been talking about the development of a Super El Niño; the warming of parts of the Pacific Ocean which will lead to an increased risk of extreme weather around the world. It’s a phenomena exacerbated, but not caused by, climate change. The interesting thing about El Niño, super or otherwise, is that while it’s possible to measure it, its impact is hard to predict.

I feel the same about the tenth game of the season. The old adage goes that you shouldn’t look at the table until you’re ten games in. I’m a big fan of trends, I much prefer them over individual data points, but let’s face it, who hasn’t had a sneaky look at the table on the opening day after a solid 2-0 win?

Whether the 10th game is important is open to debate. Do people choose it as a landmark simply because it’s a conveniently round number? Humans often take comfort from creating meaning in things where there is none. For example, would the concepts of a ‘sweeper keeper’ or ‘fox in the box’ exist if they didn’t rhyme?

I digress, based on the last ten years, 70% of the teams who were top after ten games have been promoted. But, equally, 70% of teams in the top three after ten, ultimately failed to win automatic promotion, albeit five made it through the play-offs. Overall, if you’re in the top three after ten games, your chances of promotion are about 50:50. It’s a sign of your progress, but far from a definitive one.

Then, of course, there’s us. We’ve been hit by our own Super El Niño; a transfer embargo, rookie manager, leadership upheaval. The unlikely postponement of the Reading game and an unusually long international break mean we’ve only just hit the ten-game mark and are three games behind some teams. All of this is measurable, although its impacts are not predictable.

Perhaps it was fitting that the two El Niño’s seemed to collide on Saturday with the visit of Bradford signalling our ascent to the peak chaos of the season. The lashing rain and swirling wind from Storm Austen, along with the open end and gaping corners meant the game would be largely determined by outside forces. The Kassam holds many dubious records, being the least climate resistant stadium in the country may be one of them.

Third placed Bradford presented our first genuine challenge at home. They’ve started the season well, albeit with a slight suggestion that their success is the result of streakiness rather than consistency.

The game is part two of our first three-game home stand in the league for three years – another insane confluence of circumstances. With Wigan dealt with and Stockport to come, the run could be significant; it’s an opportunity to rack up points despite the added pressure that you’re also expected to win every home, even if it means performing for three games straight in the same week.

As the weather bludgeoned both teams, both teams bludgeoned each other. The bullied, becoming the bully. First it was us on them, then in the second half, it was them on us. Gatlin O’Donkor missed three decent chances, offering the main talking points beyond asking whether you could feel your toes.

Although the misses offered the narrative, they didn’t give the explanation. O’Donkor is a weather vein in our storm; objectively and in isolation, he’s having a good season, but Aaron Ramsey’s decision to start him is the product of the situation we’re in. Ramsey needs to balance the effort of his squad in the midst of a blizzard of games, but he doesn’t have the options he might expect. It’s all the product of the transfer embargo we’re under. Expecting Harris and O’Donkor to fire constantly isn’t necessarily reasonable. Despite the frustrations, the fact we’re creating those chances against that team, in those conditions, should be a sign of hope.

Far from what the last ten games tells us, the destiny of the season is in front of us; what we’ve been through is the preamble. Now the clocks have gone back and the weather has turned, games are flooding the diary, injuries and suspensions will begin to kick in and form will fluctuate. Between now and Christmas, the jostling starts; we’ll only know the impact of what we’ve been dealing with at the end of December.

Storm Austen was never likely to provide a canvas for a classic. The game was ultimately Scandi Noir; gritty, determined, dense, but with a narrative that struggled to be seen through the squall. In fact, this week’s government warning that people need to be better prepared for climate or cyber related disruption is appropriate. None of this is a cinematic apocalypse, but we need a back up plan if we lose electricity or access to our bank accounts for a few days. This draw won’t define our season, sometimes you need to know when to baton down the hatches and prepare for what’s to come.

While you’re here

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Elsewhere, host of BBC’s The Dub and iconic voice of Women’s football, Robin Cowan, is the special guest at a Florence Park Talks event on the 29th October in support of Oxford United in the Community and the Save The Ultimate Picture Palace campaign. Book now.