Southampton 0-0 Millwall

Well, what better way to ring in 2026 than with a good old-fashioned Championship stalemate? If you were hoping the new year would bring a fresh attacking philosophy to St Mary’s, then watching Southampton and Millwall produce a masterclass in how not to score goals was probably not on your bingo card. Still, at least 30,182 hardy souls turned up to witness this festival of frustration – though whether that says more about our eternal optimism or our questionable life choices is up for debate.

The Saints dominated possession like a chess grandmaster playing against their pet goldfish, hogging 66.7% of the ball and presumably wondering what on earth to do with it. We managed 12 shots to match Millwall’s tally, which sounds impressive until you realize only two of them troubled their goalkeeper enough to warrant a save. Meanwhile, the Lions – bless their pragmatic hearts – somehow managed three shots on target from their dozen attempts, proving that sometimes quality really does trump quantity.

The afternoon’s excitement peaked around the half-hour mark when Nathan Wood picked up a booking, presumably for the heinous crime of showing too much enthusiasm. Millwall’s Zak Sturge joined him in Tom Nield’s notebook seven minutes later, setting the tone for what would become a card collector’s paradise. Macaulay Langstaff and Billy Mitchell would later add their names to the referee’s Christmas list, with Mitchell’s yellow arriving fashionably late in the first minute of stoppage time – because nothing says “Happy New Year” quite like a needless booking when the game’s already dead and buried.

Our shot-stoppers had a relatively quiet afternoon, with Saints’ keeper making three saves to Millwall’s two – hardly the stuff of highlight reels, but at least someone was doing their job properly. The statistics paint a picture of territorial dominance meeting defensive pragmatism, like watching a beautifully choreographed dance between a steamroller and a brick wall.

So here we are, one point richer and probably not much wiser, having witnessed 90 minutes of Championship football that won’t be troubling any end-of-season compilations. Still, there are worse ways to start a new year than with a clean sheet and the knowledge that at least we’re not getting beaten by teams who barely cross the halfway line. Small mercies, and all that.