MAN CITY 1 BRIGHTON 1

The night we took points off the oil barons and lived to tell the tale.

Before kick-off, every Brighton fan I know had the same three emotions fighting inside their skull:

1. Dread,

2. Hope,

3. Indigestion.

   
   

City away is like walking into a casino where the house owns your house. You turn up because you love the thrill, but deep down you expect them to rearrange your internal organs.

Then they give away a penalty.To Haaland.For his 150th goal.And the Premier League’s 35,000th goal.Basically the football gods said: “Brighton, bend over.”

But this is Albion. We don’t die, we just suffer creatively.

THE TURNING POINT Some clubs crumble after conceding to Haaland. Brighton just sort of… shrugged and went, “Whatever, mate, we’ve defended worse.”

Then Mitoma pops up, slicing through their defence like a man who’s had enough of Pep’s smug cardigan.What a finish. Calm, ruthless, Japanese poetry in motion.

Suddenly, the Etihad goes quiet enough to hear the traffic outside.Brighton fans start believing in miracles again, because of course we do, we’re idiots.

THE SECOND HALF City had the ball for about nineteen consecutive years.We defended like we were trying to save our nan’s ashes from being blown off the pier.

Verbruggen, the absolute menace, decided he was going to keep Haaland as quiet as a toddler in a library.He pulled off saves that made the away end start doing maths they weren’t prepared for.

THE FINAL WHISTLE The ref blows.1–1.We’ve taken points off Man City at their place.City drop points for the third match in a row, which I’m sure Pep absolutely loved.

Brighton fans leave the stadium floating, partly from pride, partly because their legs stopped working due to stress.

THE AFTERMATH City fans moaned about possession.We celebrated like we’d just discovered electricity.

Brighton social media did its usual three-step dance:

1. “Mitoma is beauty incarnate.”

2. “Verbruggen is a wall made of Dutch granite.”

3. “Where’s our Europa League statue.”

   
   

The national press pretended City were unlucky.We pretended we weren’t still shaking.

CONCLUSION This wasn’t just a draw.This was Brighton, the club of hope, heartbreak, and occasional witchcraft, turning up at the Etihad and reminding the league that we don’t care how big your budget is.

We’re still here.We’re still annoying.We’re still impossible to predict.And we’re still singing all the way home.