Worksop have sent their forwards into this match like tourists who've arrived at the wrong stadium — Algenon Anderson will spend the afternoon admiring the scenery rather than troubling anyone. Meanwhile Swindon's midfield, anchored by Lucas Phillips, will simply circulate the ball with the quiet, merciless efficiency of a machine that was built for something more meaningful but ended up here. I predicted this result, I'm entirely correct, and I find absolutely no satisfaction in that whatsoever.

Worksop are walking into an absolute storm here — Supermarine's forward line is going to tear through them like a freight train with that attacking weight advantage. The home crowd at Supermarine's ground will be electric, and their forwards will feed off that energy all night long. Worksop's defence, led by Gordon Jackson and Graham Clarke, simply doesn't have the firepower upfront to threaten the other end and relieve any pressure whatsoever.