Sometimes when you write things about the Tigers it can get a bit stereotyped. You feel like you’ve written the same thing before. The start of the season is all boundless optimism, the middle is all bitter disappointment, the end is sullen gloom and wishing that the close season would come as you’re sick of it all.

A feeling that lasts until the first Saturday after the season ends when you are crippled by boredom and wondering how you can entertain yourself until the pre-season friendlies start and you can happily begin swapping rumours about new signings and what odds we’re on to go up and the old excitement rises again, cos this, really, could be our year…

It’s not like that this time. I can’t remember when there has been such collective gloom at the onset of a new season. If City were a patient it would be in cardiac arrest, chest compressions interspersed with electric shocks of increasing voltage all to no avail as the chaotic monitor tracing degenerates still further into an ominous flatline. And to say we feel a bit flat is to say that Kate Moss is perhaps not over-burdened in the mammary department. And to say we feel a bit flat is to say that Kate Moss is perhaps not over-burdened in the mammary department. Whereas previously our expectations have been over-inflated like Anna Nicole Smith and collapsed to the proportions of Victoria Beckham by September, this time we are squished from the outset.

Well, the team isn’t going to be burdened by the weight of over-expectation, we didn’t travel to Blackpool with the silly thought that we might be actually on a promotion campaign as we did to Mansfield or Rotherham or Exeter, only to get a most unwelcome knock on the door from Ronny Reality before we even had a chance to moan our heads off and call for the sacking of Dolan/Fish, Hateley/Lloyd or Joyce/Buchanan. In fact, the mood of the fans pre kick-off was that if we get a point at Blackpool, there’ll be calls for Brian Little to be given the freedom of the city.

The close season has been astounding. Our major shareholder, Hinchliffe, awaits trial on all manner of alleged dodgy dealings. He signs his shares over to our chairman, his long time buddy Nick Buchanan. David Lloyd, our landlord and, for many City folk, the Devil himself, threatens to shut us down as he has had no rent from Buchanan. He locks us out of our ground as Mr. Buchanan says there is nothing to worry about and threatens to sue Lloyd for money that he says Satan hasn’t coughed up from his period in charge. Needless to say, this last bit then goes very quiet. For a vital month we cannot get into our ground. The FA who have been sniffing around us all year suddenly announce that what is crawling around under the stones they have lifted looks too frightening for them to jump on, so they pass a hefty file to the Fraud Squad.

Mr Buchanan tells us there is nothing to worry about. The manager is able to make one signing only before a transfer embargo is dumped on us as we have not repaid the latest loan that the club has begged from the PFA. So we go into the new season having strengthened our side which came fourteenth last time out to the tune of one elderly central defender, David Brightwell.

That’s ignoring, of course, those who left us during the last campaign. At the time of writing the embargo is still in place and Mr Buchanan has said that there is nothing to worry about. We do have some cash though, as we have done a deal with Wigan to get some money for former Tiger keeper Roy Carroll. As usual the mathematics seem to make no sense but we do know that it is a way of making sure that we get some money quickly to cover our costs at the expense of the full amount of the sell-on clause – at a time when Celtic are eyeing up the Bhoy Wonder at anything up to three million of our English pounds. So presumably we are so desperate for funds to keep us going that we kiss off future cash. And, as Mr Buchanan points out, there is nothing to worry about.

Now I could say so much about all of that lot, but already that litany is depressing beyond words. But let’s remember that Farmer Tom Belton, voted ‘Fan of the Year’ over the last campaign when he was our Chairman, was ousted by Buchanan and Hinchliffe ostensibly for being incompetent.’ Look at that last word and then look at what’s happened this summer, and you might think that our close season could serve as a definition of incompetence – assuming that it’s nothing worse than that and that the FA have wasted their time doing their investigation and have presumably passed it on to the Rozzers as Plod are a bit short of work themselves and would welcome something to do even though everything at City is above board.

Apparently there are some people who believe that and they are of course entitled to that belief, just as they are allowed to believe that the earth is flat, that Santa and his sack will come every year to delight every good child and that England had a realistic chance of staging the 2006 World Cup.

The team. Oh, yeah. Remember them? What can we expect this time out? Well, we have a new manager at least. Warren Joyce will, rightly, always have a footnote in Tigerland history as The Manager Who Kept Us In The League When No Better Manager Had The Arse To Take The Job On. And I salute him for that. And with all of the off-field shenanigans last time out it’s not surprising that the team faltered. For all that, last season was desperately disappointing and there was a view amongst many that he hadn’t made the most of the resources available to him. Even those who felt that Joyce was harshly treated at the end were excited at the thought of having Brian Little at the helm. After all, he has a proven track record across the divisions and has yet to fail managerially. Apart from the end of his time at Aston, obviously. And the ‘disaster’ at Stoke, but that goes without saying. And his nightmare spell at West Brom, but that’s only common sense. But even if he isn’t some amalgamation of Shankly, Clough, Ferguson and Trappatoni that some would have us believe, at least he has proved that he can do it.

And it will be fascinating to see what he makes of a team that he clearly feels is not strong enough. I think he needs another keeper, a striker, at least two midfielders and a pair of full backs. But because of the desperate need to sign someone, anyone, before the embargo took his goolies off he grabbed a central defender, even though we already had enough of those to tile the floors with.

It’d be funny if it wasn’t so bloody pitiful. And what does he make of Buchanan, given that at West Brom he showed that he was quite prepared to walk away whilst slagging off the board even as they nipped in to sack him? So far he’s shown himself to be sufficiently a master of spin to impress New Labour and Shane Warne combined, but if he likes what he’s seen so far of the way we do things round here then I’m Theo Whitmore.

Ah, Tappa! At least there’s still Tappa. And, what the hell, having moaned like mad about everything, let’s finish with something about football. Did you see the goal against Derby? Oh, it was peachy! The man had come on in one of his determined moods and was showing the second rate Scandos who occupy the midlanders ranks what a REAL footballer can do. He’d already skipped through the defence twice and set up our strikers to no avail when he decided to do it all himself.

He moon-walked past a couple of defenders his feet shimmering like a humming birds wings and then accelerated like a Lamborghini Diablo away from three more. Seven more oaflike humpers were left in his wake as he approached the final nine Derbsters who had surrounded him and were hacking away desperately at him as he nutmegged the last 14 of them and dismissed the ball into the receptacle, leaving bodies everywhere, reminding gnarled old FBI men present of the ending of the siege at Waco. And that’s no word of a lie. But it WAS truly wonderful and one day we will be as proud to say we saw this genius play for this club as our Dads were that they saw Raich. And that’s saying a hell of a lot.

So there’s always some reason to be cheerful and Whitmore is one reason why, despite it all, that the old flicker of anticipation is here as we flatten our socks and turn our undies inside out in preparation for Blackpool. And if by the time you read this we’ve battered Blackpool and paggered Plymouth then this, really, might be our year, y’know if we can just stay injury free and get Manny back and hang on to Tappa, and John Eyre and Browny can get it together upfront, cos there’s nowt to beat in this division, hell we can win it by Christmas, you can ignore all that misery guts bollocks I started with, because I can feel it in my water, this one really could be our year……

Well, maybe. Although probably not. But what the hell, it’s back. And we’ve missed it all, haven’t we? The club might have a flat line trace on the monitor and nurses and doctors staring at it anxiously, but as long as we keep turning up and they keep putting out a team, then that might be enough of a blow on the chest to keep the club’s heart beating long enough for us to sort out the problems with its head. Because as we know, as long as there’s life there’s hope. At the moment we still, just, have both.

Mark Gretton

I remember the first time I saw it, I have quite vivid memories of the occasion. It was around 1.30 on the 6th of March last year, the Saturday we faced Mansfield at home.

I was making my way to the Three Tuns and stopped to buy a programme from one of the vendors on Boothferry Road. I handed over two shiny pound coins and in return received a glossy 40 paged ‘official matchday magazine’ as they are termed nowadays. I tucked the proggie under my shoulder as I crossed the road in search of ale and when I reached the Tuns side of the road I looked at the front cover.

I stopped dead in my tracks, gazing intently in disbelief at what I was seeing. “Tigers reveal new crest!” screamed the text underneath a picture which made me utter involuntarily: “What the fuck is THAT?”

I staggered the rest of the way to the pub, the doormen both shaking their heads in disbelief as I held the cover up. Through the doors and it seemed like everyone in the pub held up a programme and said in unison “Have you seen this?”

I’m sure you know what I mean, you must have seen that crest by now. A shield with the Humber Bridge overlaid with three crowns at the top and below it what was ostensibly a tiger’s head. Except it looked nothing like a tiger’s head, more like an owl with a goatee beard, or a clipart crab with a circumcised dick before it.

Inside the programme our board spouted forth; ‘We are delighted to unveil the new Club Crest of Hull City AFC that will take the Tigers forward into the millennium..it was designed by James Hinchliffe who is studying Graphic Design at Leeds University’. What are they teaching at University’s these days??? Thankfully that abomination did not see the end of the season, let alone the start of the 21st century.

It was replaced with a hastily redrawn effort which now emblazons the matchkit and everything on sale in the now well-stocked club shop. The new version is by no means perfect but it is a drastic improvement. I must admit I quite like the idea of having the bridge and three crowns in our insignia, it shows where we are from for a start, the tiger’s head on it’s own never did that, but the nose is still shockingly poor. Not only does it have a phallic look to it, but there is a love heart at the end of it! A tiger should look menacing, not loveable.

Regardless of the aesthetics of the new crest, the principle of it’s existence sucks. You might have noticed that the crest designer shares his surname with our loveable Vice President, he also shares the same gene pool as he is Stephen Hinchliffe’s son.

It has been said that Hinch junior. was compensated quite well for his efforts, giving him somewhat more than a line on his CV. It is also rumoured that daddy gets a royalty every time the thing is used. Now whether these allegations are true or not, it can still be argued that it was not necessary to change what is the principle identifying mark of our club.

Granted, before this new logo was adopted, everything in the club shop had a different tiger on it, either the sideways on one or the front perspective version that had it’s mouth open as if yelping after a suppository had been stuck up it’s arse.

But why couldn’t the fans have been asked to choose which one they preferred? Or at least be consulted regarding the design of a new one. We were asked to vote for this seasons match strip, which has a lifespan of one or two seasons, yet were not asked our views on the design of something which might be with the club for decades.

The crest of the club is its identifying mark, part of the heritage of our 97 year old club, and it is far from amusing to think that this change was just the first of many coffer lining exercises from our ‘advisor in football matters’. I am surprised that more of a fuss was not kicked up over this at the time of the change beyond a few letters in the SportsMail.

Maybe people felt it churlish to complain about such a thing when the clubs very life had been in threat just months earlier and maybe we’ve just got used to the design and have lumped it rather than liked it. So I guess we are stuck with it, unless of course Uncle Tom and chums win their battle for control of the club, because I can’t see him wanting to keep any vestige of Hinch’s reign.

Les Motherby

Silence is usually golden, except at 3pm on a Saturday down at Boothferry Park! In the past year or so, except for some notable exceptions, the Boothferry hordes have been worryingly subdued. The fabled “Boothferry Roar” exists now only in the memories of the more “mature” City supporters -  recent generations of fans have become more accustomed to the plaintive meowing emanating from the terraces.

The immediate assumption of an outsider would most probably be that such problems were due to a decrease in attendance. However, the Tigers currently have their best average attendance figure (6,292 at time of writing) since the 1989/90 season, during which we flirted with the playoffs in the old Division Two.

Crowds have recently started to slip (from 7,000+ early on this season), but the defective nature of the atmosphere has been apparent long before now.

We currently have the second highest average attendance in the division, yet the relatively low crowds of recent weeks seem to have improved the atmosphere to a small extent – perhaps those fans wishing to chant feel less inhibited now the extra 2,000 have stopped coming.

One of the major factors must be the prolonged closure of the Kempton. The South Stand may well hold many more fans, but the hardcore band of fans who inhabit the East Stand generally manage the more prolonged chanting. Also, our recent trip to Sincil Bank emphasised how the atmosphere at a game can benefit from the relative proximity of rival sets of supporters (in terms of chanting rather than physical violence!). While Bunkers is the full length of the pitch from the North Stand, Kempton is far closer, allowing a greater degree of interaction/baiting/rival chanting, which can serve to ignite a crowd.

It is true that there is the potential for this in the West Stand, but the people sitting in there are mostly too well-behaved and too engrossed in their knitting to engage in verbal hostilities with opposition fans. There is also a lack of interaction between the home supporters when Kempton is fully functional it will often challenge Bunkers to “give us a song”, and vice versa.

Many people would note that there has been relatively little to sing about in recent years. The exception to this is of course our “Great Escape” from relegation last season. During the achievement of this feat, our attendances rose and the atmosphere at Boothferry Park was temporarily improved. Examples of this are the game against Scarborough, along with the wild celebrations which greeted the last minute winners of Craig Dudley and Colin Alcide, against Carlisle and Exeter respectively, and Brian Gayle’s wonderful own goal in the Shrewsbury game.

During the second half of the season we actually had something to play for – in 99/00 we look far too competent to go down, yet far too inconsistent to challenge for promotion. Thus we are stuck in mid-table obscurity with no real aim to be achieved by May, and as a result our crowds and our atmosphere have eroded. In the last week we have twice enjoyed comfortable 2-0 wins (Macclesfield and Brighton) – if these results signal the start of a consistent run and resulting playoff push, it will be very interesting to see the effect on the Boothferry Park atmosphere. For the “big cup ties” the atmosphere is superb, since the fans know it is a one-off game with the chance of real glory – a giant-killing. In general, our following at away games whips up a far superior atmosphere than at the corresponding home fixtures.

This is possibly due to the fact that to expend the extra revenue that an away game demands, you must be a fairly committed Tigers fan. Thus, the City following at away games comprises the more hardcore element of the Boothferry Park crowd, resulting in a higher concentration of those who are prepared to “sing their hearts out for the lads”. There is also a measure of pride attached to away matches – the fans are representatives of the club and the city, and want to emphasise the level of support enjoyed by the team. At York, despite only coming away with a 1-1 draw, the streets outside the ground were filled with around two thousand City fans, singing the praises of the club. At Lincoln, despite going down 2-1, there was a rousing chorus of “The Hull Flag” – would you experience that at Boothferry Park?

Overall it seems the best course of action would be to re-open the Kempton (or play all games away). This would generate a better atmosphere, thus hopefully improving the team’s results, thus bringing more people through the turnstiles, thus providing more money, thus allowing player purchases… ad infinitum.

Unfortunately, recent reports suggest this momentous event will be delayed even longer than expected. At the moment, there are encouraging signs that the atmosphere may be improving regardless of Kempton’s dilapidated state. However, it would appear that ultimately the only way to guarantee a good atmosphere at Boothferry Park would be to have a successful team playing there.

Adam Reid

It’s a difficult world sometimes, isn’t it? The loss of the old certainties, the disppearance of the Empire, the pound to become the Euro, Britney Spears chest changing shape almost by the minute. But there is one constant. That Hull City AFC will flatter, tease, issue the come on and then blow us out like the minx she is. Once again we are living down to our footballing expectations.If the opening of the season was inconsistent, the middle third has been downright bewildering.

"This knicker elastic is killing me"

At Anfield, as we went for it at 0-2 down and with Bracey having yet again managed to get himself sent off I got a lump in my throat I was so proud of the way we took them on. I can’t remember when I’ve felt so good about being a City fan. Yet at home against Northampton a few weeks later we were so staggeringly poor it was embarrassing. At Southend our win encompassed skill, character, flair, passion and complete belief, plus a bit of black magic as Brabin’s shot, I swear, had already missed before it entered the net.

At Shrewsbury the most ludicrous refereeing decision you will see this side of hallucinogenic drugs deemed that Goodison’s slice to the keeper was a backpass and from then on we just gave it up. I

t was shocking and those who had made the trip didn’t feel the need to moderate their criticism of players and manager. Those are maybe the most extreme examples. But the last three weeks have seen us close pass Macclesfield to destruction on their own patch with Whitmore outstanding and then do the same to Brighton with the man absent just as we wondered how we could replace him. At last we had proved that we could produce consistent form with different players.

Wrong. We go to Chester, the worst team of a truly terrible league the next week and the team that could have beaten Brighton by six can hardly create a chance worthy of the name as we have the worst of a 0-0 that sees us play as poorly as we’ve done all season.

This isn’t irritating, annoying, whimsical or puzzling. This is utterly baffling. And of course it’s disappointing.

Perhaps expectations were ridiculously raised by our form at the end of last season, but I’m sure that most of us expected something better than we have actually seen in this campaign. I don’t think anyone thought that we would be firmly ensconced in the bottom half of the league at this stage. And incredibly even now our season needn’t be over. In a division as poor as this one a decent run of form could still land a playoff place. But don’t hold your breath as decent runs by City have disappeared as suddenly, completely and unexpectedly as Victoria Adams’ knickers up David Beckham’s bum crack.

Finding a reason is the clever bit. I don’t want to say too much about our owners. Much has been written about Buchanan and Hinchliffe and fans are understandably bewildered by inconsequential FA (as in nothing) hearings and interminable court cases with former directorial colleagues. And the other reason for not saying too much is that the powers that be tend not to like it and tend to do things about it.

Andy Daykin, who for all I know might even now be on the brink of pulling in million pound sponsorship deals with BMW and Microsoft seems able to manage his time so well that he is able to monitor everything (and I do mean everything) that is uttered about the club whether on radio, in newspapers, in fanzines or on the internet. And then he makes the time to approach people in order, presumably, to encourage them and even, helpfully in my view, to suggest how they might like to comment on the activities of the club in the future. You might think this high-handed, petty and interfering and wonder aloud if that is actually what he gets paid for but I prefer to see it as a total commitment to the fans. Mind you, it’s a shame that Radio Humberside’s Chris Harvey, the first reporter in aeons to take his job seriously and do more than just regurgitate what the powers that be at the club tell him seems to be off sports reporting now. And not much in evidence reporting on the Tigers these days. I wonder why that is, then?

But whatever is said about the owners and whether any of it can be proved, it can’t be denied that we have strengthened the side. I think it’s fair to say that we’ve underachieved and here Joyce and McGovern have to take some blame. Even now I don’t feel that they know their best side.

It’s got to be Wilson in goal, unless of course it’s Bracey. Definitely three centrebacks flanked by wingbacks playing in a flat back four. Midfield picks itself, you wouldn’t look beyond Bolder, Joyce, Brabin, Whitmore, Eyre, Goodison (unless he’s in the centre of the defence or a right wingback) and Schofield (ditto or ditto) to fill the 2, 3, 4 or 5 places available whilst our front two has to be Eyre, Brown, Harris and Wood, no arguments there and good to see that this pairing has been allowed to develop and settle. In fairness to the managerial duo too often the players have been unable to give back to back performances that demand that they be picked. But too often we haven’t made enough of what we’ve got. And who could believe that Steve Wilson, little orphan Willo, would still be our number one? A man who looks like he would have trouble carrying three shredded wheats home from ASDA let alone eating them?

And Warren says he is going to be our secret weapon, which I think is spot on apart from the fact that he is not in fact secret and is in no way a weapon. Now don’t misunderstand me, Willo’s a fine shot stopper who did much to secure us a point at Chester as he has done often before, but both his strengths and weaknesses were apparent 6 years ago and he’s too old to change now even though he still looks as though he’s waiting for puberty to kick in.

Where this leaves us I don’t really know. But doubts over ownership, concerns over the coaching staff, worries that the players are too inconsistent to do the needful, haven’t we been here before? Well, of course we have, for much of the last 96 years or so, really. And yet we haven’t. Previous generations rightly considered that the Tigers were basically an underachieving second division club. The current generation will soon start to think of us as a natural division four club, albeit one that draws unaccountably large gates when there is even a whiff of some revival.

Whereas once we remembered Waggy securing a replay at Stamford Bridge now we agonise over missed penalties at Spotland as we lose the quarter final of the Autowindscreens shield (Northern Section). This is more important than it first appears. Soon we might stop looking at the stars and wonder how to survive in the gutter in which we currently reside. We’ve been here too long already and we look like spending another summer building for promotion from the bottom of the pile.

A long moan that and I’ve not even had chance to mention transfer embargoes, PFA loans and the Kempton and the club’s breathtaking incompetence/cynical dishonesty, delete according to taste, as the date for the cherished and mystical East to open is again put on hold.

But it’s not all been bad. Whitmore, Eyre, Brown, Harper, Greaves Edwards and Whittle have all afforded genuine reasons to be cheerful and when we do get it right we are as lovely looking as anything you’ll ever see.

As the doctor replied when the man asked him if giving up drinking and sex would make him live longer, ‘No, but it will feel like you are doing,’ so it is with City. They infuriate, they drive you up the wall but it would be hell without them, wouldn’t it? I can’t see a great future, at least not in the short to medium term. But whatever future it is, we’ll be there, won’t we? City. You need it ‘cos you’re weak.

Mark Gretton