The Premier League – Saturday 30th August 2008

Chastening. Ruthless. Scary.

Pick your word, choose your phrase, but there’s no getting away with the fact that City were given a bit of a battering in this one. I don’t want to write this; you don’t want to read this. But needs must, so let’s crack on, because my grandma always used to say that unpleasant tasks are better off being tackled swiftly, so we can all have jelly and ice cream once it’s done:

Shorn of the services of Gardner, Boateng and King – the spine of the side, as would become apparent, newly moustachioed City manager Phil Brown opted for an XI of: Myhill; Ricketts, TurnerBrown, Dawson; Garcia, Ashbee (c), Marney, Fagan; Geovanni,  Folan.

Still no start for Deano, benched despite scoring in the midweek League Cup defeat at Swansea – last season’s TurnerBrown axis of ace was restored with Gardner’s injury, King was loan-tied by being unable to feature against his parent club, and we set off briskly attacking the North Stand.

We nearly scored in the first minute too – Geovanni found Fagan loitering in space, but he badly pulled his shot wide from twenty yards. City were looking quite vigorous in the opening stages…but disaster was to strike.

A badly-struck corner by Kilbane bobbled low towards the near post, where Sam Ricketts rather ill-advisedly swished at it and sliced it past Myhill. The Wigan fans, 120 yards distant, took a moment to react to this numbing moment of (mis)fortune – such comedic defending would humble a Fourth Division team, and looked dismally embarrassing at this level.

Back came City, forcing a corner – and we were suddenly, horribly, two goals down. The ball was cleared, Zaki fed Valencia, who motored past Brown with distressing ease – Myhill dithered and the ball was calmly swept into the net.

As simple as that. And we began to feel that there really was no way back. The game evened out as a contest after this. Indeed, City’s general play wasn’t too bad – adequately combative, attempting to construct attacks with the same thoughtful attention as usual, but it just wasn’t happening. Wigan were muscular and disciplined, and half-a-second quicker in possession. We only really had one chance to halve the deficit before the interval, when Ashbee swiped clumsily at a loose ball following a Dawson corner, the ball going well wide.

“Ouch”, we reflected at the interval. City were in the game in terms of its ebb and flow, and the creation of opportunities was approximately equal, but there was little doubting Wigan’s superiority at both ends of the pitch.

Still, the players appeared to have rolled up their sleeves at the break, and we fashioned the first chance of the second forty-five when Turner bludgeoned a header over from a corner. Geovanni slashed a shot at Kirkland, but he adeptly batted it away.

As the half wore on, Phil Brown – now positioned into the posh seats near to the chairman – introduced Deano for his first taste of top flight football with City, withdrawing the luckless Geovanni. He was quickly involved, drawing a foul on the goal-line for which Bramble was inexplicably not cautioned, and while Turner met the cross it was repelled by the stout Wigan defence.

Nick Barmby came on for Garcia, shifting Fagan onto the right wing as City attempted to get more bodies forward, and while we salute the manager’s attacking intentions, unfortunately it backfired as City began to look even more porous at the back.

Valencia gathered the ball in space on the right, he transferred it inside to Zaki, who expertly side-footed it past Myhill. As chillingly straightforward as that.

The game was dead now, but still Wigan came, and they made it 0-4 five minutes later. Wayne Brown was having a horrible afternoon, and when he attempted a back-header to Myhill it only fell to Emile Heskey, who pounced on the ball in a flash, rounded Myhill and slotted the ball home easily.

Deflating stuff – and while the crowd creditably stayed with the team, this was becoming a trifle embarrassing. Phil Brown attempted to raise our spirits with the introduction of Bernard Mendy, who has presumably only been signed for comedy value. Wigan scored again, Zaki walloping a shot that flew past Myhill, thudded into the crossbar and bounced over the line – for some reason the linesman waited a good five seconds before signalling a goal, although the ball was clearly in.

Mendy, who is so enthusiastically awful he reminds you of your little brother eagerly joining in your playtime kickabouts and being unutterably terrible yet endearingly keen, should have given us the minor thrill of pulling one back when Folan teed him up – he flailed a leg in the rough direction of the ball and sent of zooming miles over.

And that was that. The players were afforded sympathetic applause at the end, which was a nice touch of class, and we trust it was appreciated by the players. Not a single boo was heard, despite this being our heaviest ever defeat at the Circle. I guess we all reason we’re in this together.

Enough. Your correspondent makes no apologies for the brevity of this – Grandma never said an unpleasant task had to be done to a soaring level of excellence, after all. While we all expected a few canings this season, we didn’t really anticipate Wigan at home to be among the chief candidates. Yet caned we were – unluckily in some regards, with three key players absent and a fluke opener. And the score didn’t really reflect the overall direction of the game.

Yet credit to Wigan, whose efficiency and ruthlessness was an object lesson in the art of winning games at this level. We have a couple of weeks to recuperate before the trip to Newcastle – lets hope they’re used to bolster our exposed squad, mend a few sore limbs and raise some of the lowered spirits evident at 5pm yesterday. We still have four points from three games, we’ve played generally rather well so far, and we shall simply have to put this one behind us. (AD)

Myhill 5.5; Ricketts 4.5; Turner 6; Brown 5; Dawson 6.5; Garcia 5.5; Ashbee 5.5; Marney 5.5; Fagan 6; Barmby 5; Mendy 5.5; Windass 5.5

League Cup Round 2 – Tuesday 26th August 2008

Phil Brown really doesn’t rate Cup competitions. The rollcall of players summoned for duty in South Wales looked like one of those teamsheets you get at half-time in a pre-season friendly when all the proper players have had their go. Still, they still should have been more than strong enough to dispose of this headlit home side, yet they weren’t and they didn’t.

Nobody – let’s say that again – nobody who began at Blackburn took to the pitch at the semi-impressive Liberty Stadium (better than Leicester and Southampton, but not up to the KC or Stadium of Light standard as nu-stadia goes). Brown looked in his store cupboard and fished out Duke; Mendy, Cooper, Brown, Doyle; Barmby, France, Hughes, Halmosi; Windass, Folan. The latter pairing were evidently competing with one another for the King-sized space due to open in the frontline at the weekend.

Swansea, since flogging Darryl Duffy, picked 11 names I didn’t recognise, especially as they too seemed questioning of the tie’s viability by leaving dangerous centre forward Jason Scotland on the bench.

The first 45 minutes were comically one-sided and City had it won, really. The lead was established in the opening ten minutes with some divine football. Hughes and Barmby oozed arrogance as their one-touch passing dizzied the home defence, and Folan had ample room to slide Windass in. Deano’s one touch beat the last defender as he steered the ball beyond moonlighting West Stand sponsor Dorus De Vries.

City were in control. It was a game to be played in dinner jackets with an option to chomp on a fat cigar, such was the ease of the game’s flow in the Tigers’ direction. That they didn’t capitalise on it, initially through profligacy and later through a poor attitude, raises question marks about how motivated Premier League reserves can be when they are deemed only good enough for bobbins Carling Cup ties at the pubic end of the country. It wasn’t good enough.

Swansea’s one other saving grace in the first half was there ability to catch the Tigers’ offside. Each striker was guilty of mistimed runs, though there was comedy to be had from the tardiness of many of the flagged signals from the touchline which are no less frustrating, for all the justification they may have had. The rules need looking at, really.

Oh dear, it’s hard to get too upset about what happened afterwards. The point is that City were trying to entertain at the expense of delivery – hence some flashy passes, delightful one-touch movements and a total lack of ruthlessness. There were moments of ill-fortune – the impressive France glanced a header just wide after Folan clipped a ball in from the corner of the box; Windass miskicked his effort from Folan’s flick after Duke tried to find Porthcawl with an almighty punt out; and Cooper stabbed inches wide with an outstretched foot after Hughes’ corner evaded the rest.

Swansea’s best efforts came from defensive indecision, with Wayne Brown especially to the fore, yet their tendency to pass short or hit each other just made City fans laugh. Half time, comfortable if not finished, and the handful of hardy City souls (my guess is that not too many actually travelled from Hull, mind – especially as Tiger Travel set off at 11.30am, so goodness knows what time the bus got back) in the upper north stand (as far away from the home support as possible – tucked into hot pies and cold lager, feeling secure.

Oooch.

City folded, panicked, shed themselves of responsibility, and Swansea took control.

Early in the second half, sub Gorka Pintado managed to keep his feet despite a telegraphed trip from Brown and slid a gilt-edged ball back to Guillem Bauza, who was blinded by the lights and blasted over. A big let-off.

Duke then pulled off a marvellous save from a Pintado header, with the sub left totally unwatched from a corner. Only a handful of minutes had elapsed further when Pintado – again – won a header from a dangerous ball, only for the thighs of Windass – yes, Windass – to keep it out on the line.

It was a question of time, really. Windass was immediately replaced by Marlon King after his defensive heroics – I suspect it will be Windass doing the replacing of King on Saturday, mind – and before the new arrival could even spit on the grass, as all subs seem to do these days, the home side had equalised.

Jordi Gomez, a loanee and evidently dangerous, chipped in a luscious ball for Pintado, who defined the term ‘impact substitute’ better than most, to take down impeccably and guide in a most clinical manner past Duke. 1-1, and no less than Swansea City deserved, despite being Swansea City.

At this point, City had a bit more of a go, if only after realising what a deep embarrassment they were being. Folan was not quite tall enough to reach Brown’s cross header as the net awaited. France, the best outfield player on show in the dirty silver kit, put a splendid through ball into King’s path but a late and clean tackle saved the day for the home team. King then flashed a shot wide of the far post from a narrow angle after sub Nicky Featherstone, whose brief endeavours did him some favours in comparison to his more distinguished team-mates, sent him into space with a nicely weighed ball.

Extra time seemed an inevitability now, not a jolly prospect when faced with being in Wales until pushing midnight with a home somewhere a long way away to go to. However, City nearly rescued us from such a monstrous prospect by offering the home side the victory in injury time.

Brown chopped down Manchester United loanee Febian Brandy (awesome name) and Pintado stepped up to win the match for Swansea. However, the Duke, the Duke, the Duke was on fire, and he guessed correctly to bat away the waist-high kick.

A most bittersweet moment. Duke’s save was tremendous and after all the City reserve custodian has been through, he deserves that touch of glory. But we wanted to go home. We were fantastically bored, few of us cared enough about Carling Cup progress now we’re bigshot Premier League glitterati with fish of considerably greater girth to fry. And now, yes, extra time. And still we didn’t fancy our chances.

The manager brought Michael Turner on for young Cooper, who was out of puff but had acquitted himself admirably. Expect him not to play for us in the Premier League though. The game began again. We barely noticed.

Oh, on 103 minutes Turner, as if to get it over with once and for all (shame there’s no golden goal rule any more) took a slice off Shaun McDonald in the box and Gomez this time stepped up. Duke was sent the opposite way and Swansea’s fans celebrated loudly and provocatively, as if they’d just taken the lead against a Premier League side’s reserves.

City had one great chance to prolong the agony into a shoot out. Hughes, a profound disappointment throughout, clipped one last free kick into the danger zone and a panic-stricken defender headed across his own goal towards Folan. From three yards, the big striker’s ineffectual display summed itself up when he nodded over.

The final whistle was greeted with joy from the home fans and little more than mild grumbles from the travelling Tiger Nation, who just wanted to get out. City’s second half performance was abject, but an early exit will be counted as a blessing in disguise come May if our heads remain above Premier League water.

(AD)

Duke 8; Mendy 5; Cooper 6; Brown 5.5; Doyle 6; France 7; Hughes 5.5; Barmby 6; Halmosi 6; Folan 5.5; Windass 6.5; King 7; Featherstone 6.5; Turner 6.5

The Premier League – Saturday 23rd August 2008

It’s alright this Premier League lark isn’t it? Granted we’re yet to face any of the true powerhouses of the division, but only the most curmudgeonly of Tiger Nationals can be anything other than chuffed at how City are acquitting themselves at this early stage, something that must really irk the ignorant pundits who smugly predicted we‘d practically be relegated by this point. In yo’ face pundits!

The Tigers tipped up at Blackburn for their first top flight away game in confident mood after last weeks opening day victory, looking to spoil Paul Ince’s debut league home game as Rovers’ boss. With City robbed of the superhuman endeavours of George Boateng and with Nick Barmby starting on the bench, they lined up thus at Ewood Park:- Myhill; Dawson, Gardner, Turner, Ricketts; Garcia, Ashbee (capt.), Marney, Fagan; Geovanni and King.

Our Lancastrian hosts began proceedings, playing towards the gleefully vocal City fans who numbered around 4000. After clearing a wrongly given corner it was the Tigers who had the first effort on goal, Marney fed Geovanni on the left wing and the Brazillian headed straight for goal, just inside the box he forced Paul Robinson to make a low to the ground, parried save, hitting a shot under little pressure from Blackburn’s rearguard, that because the whistle had been blown after Craig Fagan charged into his marker.

Blackburn’s style is somewhat direct and our black and amber clad heroes valiantly defended their goal, weathering a storm of long ball derived pressure. Reid shot straight at Myhill under pressure from Gardner and Gamst Pedersen hit curled a half volleyed shot wide after some head tennis. Jason Roberts and Roque Santa Cruz are a tricky forward partnership but our central defensive pairing of Anthony Gardner and Michael Turner were in fine form keeping them at bay. With Paraguayan Santa Cruz having just signed a new 4 year deal there was always the worry he’d really want to seal it with a goal in this game but he spent most of this encounter peering out of the pocket of the frankly magnificent Turner.

Crowd noise resonated around Ewood Park, all of it coming from the visiting fans as the somewhat pedestrian home contingent were content to just watch, perhaps mentally occupied by the fight of local residents against a proposed bus lane, ’say no’ urge the placards in every nearby house window. Marney played in a useful cross from the right wing but Fagan had stopped after straying beyond his marker and offside so the ball ran across goal and out of play. Counter attack was the name of City’s game as they sought to contain Rovers and hit them on the break. And contain them they did, until a failure to execute the offside trap as a complete unit saw us go a goal behind on 38 minutes.

Jason Roberts appeared to be offside by a significant margin as he raced onto Reid’s long through ball, and he was way ahead of Gardner, but a video replay on the big board showed Ricketts played him on, and one on one with Myhill, Roberts flicked the ball beyond our keeper who had little chance. 1-0 Blackburn.

At last some noise from the home fans, who taunted us with a chant of ’Going down, going down’, but before they’d even finished their refrain, City were on level terms. Fagan swung a cross from the right to the far corner towards newly capped Australian international Garcia who, unmarked, looped an outrageous header over Robinson that went in off the post. Rovers fans weren’t singing anymore, but the exultant Tiger Nation were. 1-1 after 40 minutes.

Ashbee headed away a Warnock cross and Ricketts made light work of stopping Dunn’s run into the box as City put their defensive aberration behind them and became resolute once more. Ashbee wisely/cynically (choose your own perspective) took a yellow card to prevent Roberts running at the back four and after the captain and Turner combined to stop Santa Cruz turning on the edge of the box the half was over. It was a satisfactory first 45 minutes, overall they had defended very well and even after conceding, remained composed and battled their way back into the game. City play without fear and we’re simply not the pushovers some expect us to be.

Beverley born Paul Robinson respectfully acknowledged City’s support before the game resumed. The start of the second half was a largely formless period, and a lengthy stoppage for treatment on Andy Dawson who hurt himself turning to challenge Emerton did nothing for the fluidity of the game. Dawson battled on for a while but the knock would eventually best him.

Geovanni wasn’t having the impact he had last week up front but to his credit he’s a hard worker when we don’t have the ball, Phil Brown’s gameplan relies on closing down and hassling opposing players when defending and there is no room for a forward who stands on the halfway line with hands on hips waiting for service. Pleasingly, our Brazillian is a willing runner and on numerous occasions he got behind the ball, tracking down the ball carrier and helping out at the back.

Craig Fagan deserves credit too, not just for setting up Folan’s winner last week and Garcia’s leveller this, but for his constant buzzing around and making a nuisance of himself, he’s like a gnat that persistently pesters his opponents. His permanent return wasn’t greeted with much enthusiasm but so far he has shown worth this season.

Near to the hour mark, a hobbling Dawson was relieved by Bernard Mendy, a change that saw Ricketts switch to left full back and the Frenchman lining up on the right side. Though the game had become tepid the travelling Tiger nation was still in full voice and stood up to show they were Hull City. Gamst Pederson centred from the left but the ref spotted Emerton clambering over Garcia and blew for a free kick. Geovanni played a lovely pass to Fagan on the wing but the cross was headed away, it was the South American’s last contribution as he made way for Folan.

Turner shanked a clearance but made up for the error by throwing himself in front of Santa Cruz’ shot which deflected into Myhill’s waiting hands. The Paraguayan cried handball, a desperate call for a player getting little change out of Turner but the ref said no to both that and to the bus lane. King played Folan through but the linesman’s flag ended the move, offsides were a regular feature in the game and City’s forwards will need to learn to be cleverer in that respect.

Michael Turner got the better of Santa Cruz yet again when he glanced Reid’s cross behind for a corner, from which Turner headed clear. Just how ace is Michael Turner? Very I tell you.

Bernard Mendy has made an inauspicious start to his City career so far, we’ll write off the Crewe debacle as friendlies mean very little (indeed some of the fainter of heart foretold gloom after our pre season campaign, but we’re not doing too bad are we?) but he had hearts in mouths after he performed a spectacular looking though foolish Superman dive at the ball on the wing but failed to put it into touch and the mistake allowed Pedersen to skip past him and look to cross. Thankfully an alert Turner sprinted across to block the delivery and conceded a corner. Mendy is enthusiastic and athletic, but his decision making was poor on this occasion. The only time Santa Cruz got a march on Turner he wastefully hit the ball over the bar, and Myhill looked to have it covered should it have been lower.

City’s attacking midfielders and forwards were doing a great job of defending from the front and looked dangerous on the counter, Paul Robinson made a meal of Garcia’s jump to meet Ricketts’ cross and got the free kick he sought. Goal-getter Garcia made way for Barmby with around ten minutes to go.

Mendy affected our hearts again, this time setting pulses racing as he embarked on a run, skipping past one man and laying off to King for the one-two but the return ball was lacking and sadly one City fan is spared the obligation to wear a France shirt for another week at least.

City weren’t just happy with a point, they wanted more if was on offer and finished the game the far sharper of the two sides. With four minutes showing on the fourth officials electronic board, Folan had perhaps the best chance to win the game, Barmby crossed for King but Nelson headed away, and our matchwinner last week shaped himself perfectly and struck a cleanly hit volley goalward, it was though, straight at Robinson. Sam Ricketts tested the ex-Spurs netman soon after with a low drive that Robinson got down to pouch.

At the other end Tugay shot far wide and the game came to an end, probably a fair result, though if City had nicked it at the end Blackburn couldn’t have justifiably complained that much. The Tiger Nation left Ewood Park content and the far happier of the two sets of fans, four points from six is a handsome return and if you subscribe to the win at home, draw away ideal then all is rosy.

The table that never lies currently says we’re are the third best team in the country and the Tigers are enjoying life in the top division. There will be tougher tests to come for sure this season, but at this rate we’ll be back at Blackburn next year. Wonder if there’ll be a bus lane. (LM)

Myhill 6.5; Dawson 7, Turner 8.5, Gardner 7.5, Ricketts 8; Garcia 7, Ashbee 7.5, Marney 7, Fagan 7.5; Geovanni 7, King 7. Folan 7, Mendy 6, Barmby 6.5.

The Premier League – Saturday 16th August 2008

The Circle is becalmed, and Jimmy Bullard is running the show. Already trailing, Fulham look sharper, faster, better than us in every area of the pitch. Worried glances are being exchanged as our team creaks and looks close to buckling – and this at home to one of the weaker sides we’ll come up against. Then our Brazilian international spears a shot into the bottom corner, and we realise that the fairytale is still a work in progress.

Earlier in the day we’d beamed with pride as we heard Paul Duffen’s beautifully eloquent words as the bell was rung to commemorate top-flight football finally coming to Hull, and as we entered the stands we noted the small things – larger dug-outs, increased media facilities, Premier League livery adorning the stadium. It was  day 104 years in the waiting, one we thought we’d never see, not least half a dozen years ago when surviving to the end of another Fourth Division season was a heady aspiration in itself.

Well, we are Premier League now. As we took our bow at this level, in front of a global audience, Phil Brown entrusted many of those who brought us here as we lined up with a 4-4-2 formation containing: Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Gardner, Dawson; Garcia, Ashbee (c), Boateng, Barmby; Geovanni, King.

Debuts for Gardner, Boateng, Geovanni and King, with King leading the line and Geovanni playing just off him. Fulham were missing Andy Johnson, who eventually joined the club for an implausibly vast sum of money a couple of weeks ago. Their attacking threat came from Seol Ki-Hyeon and Bobby Zamora, Zoltan Gera and Jimmy Bullard their supply line from midfield.

The Circle was awash with amber, and a thunderous atmosphere was in evidence. Fulham had brought a plucky band of supporters, fifteen hundred in number and replete with southern mispronunciations, however with half of the North Stand given over to a pleasingly vocal batch of home fans they were struggling to be heard.

And we so nearly had the dream start. Attacking the South Stand, Richard Garcia headed a deep cross from the left into the middle of the area, where Geovanni had snuck into space – he was unmarked and he powered a header down towards goal, but was denied a goal as Mark Schwarzer flung himself leftwards and stuck out a massive paw to keep the ball out. Ian Ashbee pinged the rebound back at goal, but a covering Fulham defender and the grounded goalkeeper just managed to keep it out.

It was a lively start from City though – making the dismaying event of Fulham taking the lead even more unhappy. Jimmy Bullard was given too much space on the Fulham right, and he flicked a cross into the area where Seol Ki-Hyeon had been lost by Anthony Gardner and his neat header skidded off the turf beyond Myhill to put the Tigers behind.

Ouch.

Across the country, we could almost hear the mournful tones of national television and radio reporters informing the world that “Premiership class was already showing” at “relegation-bound Hull City”; print journalists were, we fancy, busily raiding their cliché repositories for sorrowful passages about the Championship upstarts were being in their place.

Such observations, real or imagined, nearly become established fact. Fulham were in total control of the game. Their passing was too crisp, their midfield movement too fleet-footed. We were struggling, badly, and there did seem to be a real gulf in class. The City fans fretted and wondered just what we’d let ourselves in for on May 24^th.

Fulham had three superb chances to score a second and probably decisive goals during this period of ascendancy – a Davies shot was deflected over, a header by Pantsil was sent wide and a Davies flashed a shot over from a Bullard corner. We survived these scares. Just.

We had one more horrible moment to contend with, when a cross from our struggling left flank found Zoltan Gera in space. He had time to take a took, but happily elected to volley the bouncing ball first time instead. It shanked dismally wide.

With Fulham’s tempest at its most fierce, City equalised. Sam Ricketts flicked the ball to Geovanni in a few yards of space just in from the right touchline and forty yards from goal. He spun and sprinted goalwards, before smacking a beautifully struck left-footed shot that arced past Schwarzer into the net.

The Circle erupted – relief that we were back in it, elation at the sheer ridiculousness of a Brazilian international thumping in a 20-yarder for us in a Premier League game, joyful appreciation of a moment of dazzling skill.

Goals change games; this one may change an entire season. Suddenly, from looking distinctly second best the Tigers were on top. Fulham’s passing was increasingly being disrupted by the frenetic pace of Ashbee and Boateng’s midfield harrying, while the early jitters shown by much of the defence were replaced by a visibly more assured approach.

Not that much actual goalmouth action took place between Geovanni’s equaliser midway through the half and the interval – not much needed to. It was the realisation that we could actually compete that was the greater prize. Halfway duly arrived with City more than matching Roy Hodgson’s side, although a long-range header from Nick Barmby from a deep Ricketts cross did cause Schwarzer momentary alarm before drifting narrowly wide.

Many at the break would have settled for 1-1. This observer would have done. A point after coming from behind, the chance to get something on the board on the first day, plus the satisfying news of Stoke being hammered at Bolton, would not have made it a bad point.

City don’t really do stuff the easy way any more though. Phil Brown is not a manager who seems to accept the acceptable if a greater glory can be taken. We are lucky to have him – and as we came out for the second half it was quickly clear that City were going for a victory.

Yet it was Fulham who should have scored first. Zoltan Gera is a fine player with an absolutely wretched history of finishing against City. Remember his woeful miss for West Brom at the Hawthorns last season? That enabled us to take a 2-1 win, without which so many things could be so different at the moment. He’d already missed one sitter in this afternoon – he missed another when the ball fell to him in the area after a Zamora flick-on about eight yards out, but his side-footed volley was weak and the ball dribbled wide.

A let-off. We capitalised. Michael Turner nearly gave City the lead with a meaty header from a Dawson corner taken from the North-East corner, but it went a foot over. A real chance for a player of his ability.

King was leading the line with commendable application, and when he linked up with Ashbee and Barmby the latter sent over a chipped left-foot cross that Geovanni hit into the ground – Schwarzer dived the wrong way, but luckily for the keeper the ball went a couple of yards wide.

Ooooh. This felt like The Chance to win the game. The Tigers were generally on top and Fulham were beginning to look a little ragged – Phil Brown seized on this by make a change on the hour, Peter Halmosi and his red boots trotting on for Nick Barmby, a straight swap on the left.

He was quickly involved with a scampering run on the flank that was insufficiently attended to by his marker, enabling him to send a cross to the edge of the area that found Richard Garcia haring in to meet. His first-time shot was cleanly hit and flew across the turf, but it was just close enough to Schwarzer to enable him to grab hold of it – his safe handling being particularly imperative with Geovanni lurking.

King’s impressive shift came to end as the City manager introduced Caleb Folan, before Craig Fagan came on for Richard Garcia – two adventurous alterations, and clear evidence of Phil Brown’s determination to seek a win.

He was to be spectacularly vindicated with under ten minutes remaining. A hefty punt upfield by Boateng saw Konchesky gather possession facing his own goal. The simple solutions of a pass-back or a clearance into touch were interestingly eschewed, allowing Craig Fagan to thieve the ball from him. He strode in the area, to be confronted by Schwarzer – at which point Fagan squared to the unmarked Folan, who calmly steered the ball into the open goal.

The place went berserk. The City players piled over to Folan while those in the stands roared themselves hoarse – a huge throaty cry of triumph. City led their opening game in the Premier League, a stunning turnaround from the opening quarter of the game, and suddenly this top division lark didn’t look so bad.

The game was held up for a while as George Boateng lay mysteriously prostrate on the ground – while treatment was being anxiously administered, the City fans amused themselves with a rendition of “mauled by the Tigers”, complete with vivid gestures. Not a chant we were expected to indulge ourselves with too often this season, before dark predictions of relegation for the visitors were issued with a chortle by the fevered East Stand.

With City have used all of their substitutes, George Boateng manfully hobbled back onto the pitch to universal acclaim. His injury meant that five minutes were added by Mr Walton, and when he went down again that it was it for the afternoon, meaning that City needed to hang on with ten men.

Fulham were not able to fashion anything in these remaining minutes though, and the whistles imploring full-time were soon transformed into a joyful cheer when the final whistle came through.

What a start. From the awful, stomach-churning opening when we suddenly wondered if the pundits likening us to Derby actually may have had a point, to the stirring fightback and magnificent denouement. As the players strode from the pitch, all high-fives, manhugs and big beams of delight, we enjoyed the Premier League results flashing through, and swiftly worked out that City were third in the table.

Third in the table. City. In the Premier League. And third. It provides one with a shiver of delight to even consider it. And it really does afford us the chance to think positively about what is to come.

Of course, Fulham are among the sides we really need to beat at home to stand much of a chance. Had they gone 2-0 up, or had Geovanni’s shot struck the post, or had Konchesky defended competently…

But none of those things did happen. What did happen is that City fought back with real heart, and deservedly took the spoils. Strong performances stood out throughout the side. The defence, initially nerved, wised up quickly and snuffed out the Fulham threat in the second half. The midfield pairing of Boateng and Ashbee diligently destroyed everything they could – Boateng certainly seemed every inch the midfield warrior his former fans at Middlesbrough advertised him to be. Geovanni, our Brazilian international forward (no, I won’t ever tire of saying that) was a nimble touch of class, while Marlon King’s selfless battling up front bodes very well for the battles to come.

All can be proud of themselves. The City fans, positive in support and creating of a fine atmosphere, can look back with pleasure at a momentous and successful day. City are in the Premier League, and while it’s much too early to make firm predictions, for just this one day we looked like we belonged. (AD)