The Premier League – Saturday 27th September 2008

It’s become something of a cliché to start these reports with a contrast of now to “then” – the “then” in question being any of the vast collection of dismaying episodes from yesteryear. That need not deter us, however: we seek refuge in clichés, and find comfort in the familiar in such bewildering times.

We’ll limit ourselves to just one moment of contrast. It is this – thirteen years ago a 3-0 home defeat to York was the latest indignity inflicted by a dying club on its traumatised supporters on the way to a notably embarrassing relegation from Division Three. Now we survey the rest of the country from the giddy heights of sixth place in a division we’d previously assumed was none of our business, and we declare it to be rather good.

The first inkling we had that this may not have been a standard Big Four Club 3-0 Relegation Candidates came as we breakfasted in the Midlands, word filtering through of Phil Brown’s intention to line City up in a 4-3-3 formation, our goateed sage assembling our XI thus: Myhill; McShane, Turner, Zayatte, Dawson; Marney, Ashbee (c), Boateng; Geovanni, King, Cousin. 4-3-3 at Arsenal. Cripes.

Arsene Wenger had seen his lesser lights record a 6-0 League Cup win in midweek against Sheffield United, with an astonishing average age of just 19. However the Frenchman brought in such stars as Theo Walcott and van Persie to accompany Adebayor, Fabregas, Gallas et al. A daunting prospect, and as the late evening sunshine fell upon a 60,000 crowd at the Emirates Stadium, we braced ourselves for an examination for which the word “difficult” seemed laughably inadequate.

The game started in a reassuring quiet fashion, with Arsenal’s puzzling lack of urgency giving us the vital opportunity to spend a few minutes acclimatising to the occasion. Indeed, one of the first chances of the game fell to City when a scampering run down the left by Geovanni forced a corner, from which the Brazilian attempted an overhead kick that flew a fair distance over Almunia’s goal.

Arsenal gradually pushed City back however, and Fabregas wasted a great chance when he dragged a shot wide of Myhill’s right hand post after finding space in the area. This provoked a flurry of attacking from the home side, and City had an escape when Emmanuel Adebayor had a goal (correctly) disallowed for climbing on Paul McShane – though Myhill would probably have saved the header had Mr Wiley not already blown for a free-kick.

It was all Arsenal now, with City seeming to purposefully cede space out wide with the narrow midfield trio preferring to protect the central positions as Walcott in particular found space on the flanks. Dawson was called upon to execute a splendid covering tackle on the England forward as he hared forward – with a shot imminent, there’s every chances this marvellous intervention prevented Arsenal taking the lead. Think Bobby Moore on Pele. But by a City player.

Still the home side came, with only a long-range Geovanni shot breaking the pattern of play. Adebayor had a shot from an acute angle inside the area smothered, while Walcott dithered too long in possession instead of applying the sort of clinical finish he recently achieved in Croatia, and City continued to grimly hang on.

And if this sounds a little one-sided, maybe it was. However, City were defending with fearsome determination and making frequently astute interceptions, refusing to permit Arsenal players to get in behind them and making clearances from every cross. And as the game approached the interval and afternoon gave way to evening, Arsenal’s meticulous passing game continued to be parried, often at the very last moment, but no less creditably for that being so.

There were a few more moments of note – City had the ball in Arsenal’s goal (long after the whistle had blown for a free-kick, mind), Arsenal invoked their own fans’ displeasure when Adebayor and Eboue tried to arrogantly walk the ball in rather simply passing the ball into the goal and Ashbee finally collected a caution, and a decidedly muted response from the home supporters contrasted with the thunderous applause meted out by the City fans when the two minutes of first half injury time were concluded.

Ah, the City fans. 3,000 strong and barred from a five-figure following only by away allocation donated by Arsenal, we were unwaveringly positive, loud and good-humoured. And what a fine venue for us. Housed in a corner of lower tier and with a slender segregation policy that our police force may wish to copy, we made a terrific din throughout. Impressive too were the concourses – suitably spacious and efficiently staffed. Rarely has the half-time beverage been acquired so swiftly.

We reflected cautiously on our prospects of actually grabbing a point from the game as we trooped back out for the second half, and when the Tigers forced an early couple of corners things looked very bright.

Then Arsenal scored.

It had been coming, if we’re honest. City were caught out after a foray up front with three men committed to an attack, the Gunners sprang down our right, Walcott turned Zayatte inside the area and squared it into the middle where Myhill palmed it onto McShane’s shin – the ball crossed the line before he cleared it, although the ball was put over the line by van Persie just in case.

The home fans celebrated with a slightly superior and complacent air, while we sighed with disappointment and the tone of our support switched from hopeful to defiant. Arsenal were unsurprisingly rampant at this stage, and had a few chances to double the lead – Adebayor had a brutal shot deflected fortuitously over, van Persie toe-prodded a left-footed shot just wide, and the Tigers were rocking. An ambitious overhead kick by Marney gave Almunia something to do, but the overall flow of the game was towards the far end where Boaz Myhill was stationed, and the contest appeared over.

Not that it unduly troubled us – the padded seats were being mostly unused in the away end, and we speculated that such comfort is perhaps the reason behind the torpor among the Arsenal support. Or perhaps it was just another home win for them.

Then we scored.

And then we scored again, and the world wobbled on its own axis.

First, Geovanni fastened onto the ball wide on the right, 35 yards from goal. He scooted inside into a patch of space lethargically afforded by Arsenal’s slothful midfield. He advanced five more yards, and flayed the ball into the top corner.

Utter Tiger bedlam erupted as the City players gleefully mobbed Geo – a hoarse, high-pitch scream of delight punctured the north London sky from three thousand slightly unhinged Hullfolk.

The response was swift – by City. Cousin found space twenty yards from goal and unleashed a low shot on his left foot that deflected wide. From the resulting corner, Dawson swung it in, Cousin wriggled free of his marker and flicked a deft near post header into the top corner.

The City fans’ reaction cannot be described with mere words. I won’t try.

Arsenal were shaken. Properly shaken. It took them a moment to recuperate and gather their thoughts. More than twenty minutes remained, and their worry was palpable.

Wenger panicked, throwing on Bendtner for Eboue as his visibly rattled outfit tried to get back into the game, and the scene was set for our goal to be laid siege to. Arsenal won a few corners; each was batted away.

Phil Brown made three changes inside seven minutes, Hughes coming on for Geovanni to shore up the midfield, Garcia for the tiring Boateng, and finally Mendy for the exhausted Cousin. Meanwhile, we amused ourselves with a cry of “mauled by the Tigers”, with the familiar bewilderment from opposing fans witnessing this bizarre but hugely entertaining spectacle.

Arsene Wenger’s side now looked visibly troubled – Vela came on for the disappointing Walcott, and we looked with despair as the big screens showed ten minutes remaining. We sucked in air and prayed for full-time.

Arsenal were not without chances. Van Persie missed a superb chance when he dragged a shot wide on his right foot – he should have scored, and from our distant vantage it seemed he had, however the ball dribbled a foot wide of Myhill’s post.

Gallas was next, leaping above Mendy from a corner and whacking the crossbar – the ball fell to Vela, who couldn’t shape himself in time and the ball bounced off his shin and narrowly wide.

Five minutes to go. A howitzer from Fabregas was brilliantly turned over the bar by Myhill, to the visible astonishment of the former. And why not – it was a magnificent, match-winning save.

Arsenal were not finished, and Mr Wiley suggested that four minutes would atone for time lost to date. We’d previously sang “can you hear us back in Hull” – one suspects the groans this caused may also have been audible in East Yorkshire.

Halfway through van Persie directed a stinging twenty-yard shot at goal which Myhill opted not to go for – it flashed about six inches over the crossbar, hinting at either marvellous judgement by the City keeper, or more likely an acknowledgement that the shot was too good for him.

It was our final scare. This prize was not to be taken from us, and at the end of the game the players triumphantly assembled in our corner of the ground as we disbelievingly celebrated together.

Not that the festivities were over. Long after the players had left the pitch, we were still in the ground, watched the highlights on Arsenal’s big screens, proclaiming this to be “the best trip I’ve ever been on”, and cheering with juvenile joy as we ‘scored’ again. Indeed, it was close to 20 minutes after full-time that the away end finally emptied itself.

How? How did this happen? City began the game as 20/1 outsiders – we were 600/1 to win when 1-0 down. This ranks as one of the greatest footballing shocks of the past decade.

It happened because Phil Brown is a genius. He really is. 4-3-3 at Arsenal was a masterstroke. It meant fluid support for King up front, ensured the back four was protected, and while it meant Arsenal had space out wide, no-one can score immediately from the wing and we were well set up to cope with balls from out wide.

With Ashbee and Boateng deployed to guard the defence, Marney had a magnificent afternoon as a link between the front three and the deeper players. Dawson had a jaw-droppingly good day attending to Theo Walcott, one of the outstanding English prospects of his generation. McShane was combative, Zayatte is a revelation alongside the metronomically reliable Turner.

And Cousin – he was a disruptive influence up front in tandem with the relentless King, while Geovanni is a magician who can do things no Hull City player in history has ever been able to do.

And if that all sounds appallingly saccharine and gushing, why the hell not? Just when we think things cannot possibly get any better, they do. We are privileged to enjoy the great City team in our history, achieving arguably the most stunning result in our 104 years.

And deservedly so. Sure, we had to ride our luck. On another day, Arsenal may have made it 2-0 and settled the game, or they may have equalised and dashed our hopes. But realistically, there’s no way a club of our stature and resources can expect to win such a fixture without a dose of fortune. Simply for the resilience we showed, both in shutting out one of Europe’s best teams for the first half then scoring twice from behind means we deserved lavish reward.

Well, we got it. We lie sixth in the Premier League with eleven points to our name – the same as Derby got in the whole of 2007/8, and with 32 games left to better it in. Avoiding relegation will require amassing another thirty; probably fewer. Phil Brown said winning at Wembley was the start of the adventure, not the end. I’m starting to think he was right. (AD)

Myhill 8; McShane 7; Turner 8; Zayatte 8.5; Dawson 8; Marney 8.5; Ashbee 8; Boateng 8; Cousin 8; King 7.5; Geovanni 8

The Premier League – Sunday 21st September 2008

Perspective is a funny thing. Before the game most City fans would have taken a score draw against a side who finished 5th in the Premiership last term, but as the Tiger Nation filed out of the KC Stadium at ten to five, there was a palpable sense of disappointment in the air. After watching City take a 2-0 lead and then concede two goals late on, the score draw was seen as two points lost, rather than one precious point gained. It’s a measure of how far we’ve come to be miffed with a mere draw against Everton.

The choice of a Brazilian or a Gabonese may sound like a hirsute woman’s waxing options at a beauty parlour, but it was Phil Brown’s decision on who to partner Marlon King up front, since Craig Fagan was out and pondering a call to Claims Direct. The boss plumped for new signing Daniel Cousin, who missed the Newcastle triumph through suspension after being dismissed in the Old Firm derby, choosing to give the Gabon international ex-Ranger a debut rather than selecting Geovanni, who appears to have fallen out of favour very quickly. Kamil Zayatte, who had a trial with Everton before joining City, deputised for the injured Gardner at the back. So, violating the Sabbath for City were… Myhill; Dawson, Zayatte, Turner, McShane; Halmosi, Ashbee, Marney; King and Cousin.

Everton, who drew 2-2 with Standard Liege in midweek, kicked off playing towards the South Stand with a respectable following behind them, but it was the Tigers who showed early initiative. Halmosi wriggled past three blueshirts on the right and centred for Mendy who headed firmly at goal, but alas straight at the Tourette’s Syndrome blighted Tim Howard. If he cursed his defenders at this point, it wasn’t due to a neuropsychiatric disorder. Mendy looked for a one-two but King’s return ball was beyond the Frenchman as he scampered towards the box.

City were in confident mood when on the ball but showed a little a little too much respect to Everton when defending, Fellaini pirouetted around Halmosi but his shot was tame and no threat to Bo Myhill before a backtracking rearguard invited Arteta to have a crack at goal but thankfully the shot was well wide of the mark. Leon Osman dragged a shot just wide after Phil Neville’s cutback pass caught our defence flat footed.

City were winning the midfield arm wrestle however. Mendy headed on Myhill’s goal kick for King to chase, he crossed for Cousin but Yobo was alert and headed behind for a corner. Marlon King felt he was held in the box as he tried to control McShane’s long punt, but it looked like he was sinning as much as he was sinned against, and you don’t get penalties for that despite the calls from some Tiger Nationals.

Dean Marney was proving a real handful for Everton in the first half and he put in arguably his finest 45 minute shift as a Tiger. He showed great vision to find Mendy in space in the box, but possibly the only man to give up living in Paris to move to Hull dithered, was closed down by Neville and hit a left foot shot wide.

Momentum was City’s though and soon came a lead. Marlon King’s pressure caused Yobo to concede a corner kick and from Marney’s deep centre, Micheal Turner, ghosting late into the 6 yard box, out jumped Fellaini to head beyond Tim Howard. 18 minutes in, and City deservedly lead 1-0.

Bo Myhill pulled off a fine save to preserve the lead soon after, Yakubu volleyed Fellaini’s across goal header and our netman parried the shot away, but it was back to City pressure soon after. Halmosi drew a foul from Neville on the edge of the box and from the resulting free kick Marlon King hit a shot just inches wide of Howard’s left post. “Fuck! Shit! Bollocks!” shouted Howard. Maybe.

The hard working Halmosi threaded a pass between five blue shirts to Cousin in the box, he ignored Marney’s call for a lay off and hit a shot on the turn that was deflected over for a corner. This was great stuff from City, the half came to a close and City were comfortably the better side here. Everton may be the self styled “School of Science” but it was City giving the lesson at this point, and even Einstein would have agreed that HC=Ace²

Of the three new signings, the best performance came from the fantastically mohawk-haired Kamil Zayatte who was largely keeping Yakubu quiet and winning lots of balls in the air. Cousin had an alright first half but looks like he needs time to acclimatise to the Premier League and a new partner. Only McShane disappointed, he put in some decent tackles at full back but his passing was truly woeful and he near exclusively found an Everton player with each ball from the back and that gave Everton possession and chances they didn‘t merit.

As for the rest, good performances all round, especially Dean Marney who looked every inch the Premiership playmaker during the first half and with the moustachioed Ashbee on patrol in the centre along side him, City dominated the midfield.

David Moyes reaction to a City-centric first half was to replace Baines and Castillo with Klingon international defender Joleon Lescott and ex- Manchester United striker Louis Saha, making his belated Everton debut after a summer move.

Bo Myhill took a kick to the face as he dived at the feet of Yakubu who was pursuing a loose ball as City defended a corner. We were soon back on the attack though and Cousin and King combined well down the left flank, a one-two sent your dad’s brother’s son racing into the box but a poor touch allowed a defender to put the ball behind for a corner, from which City doubled their lead. Another Marney centre caused panic in the Everton defence and in the melee, Neville, Osman and Howard all came for the ball and it squibbed off one of them and looped in. Marlon King on the line made absolutely sure it was over but it was undoubtedly an own goal. No matter, City 2 Everton 0 and the Tiger Nation were barely comprehending the scoreline.

Not that we didn’t deserve it, we really did, but this is City, Hull City, and we’re dominating a side lauded as the best outside the big-four. Unreal. It was somewhat of a shock to the Evertonians in the North Stand too, it’s hard to keep a Liverpudlian quiet but here was a mass of silent Scousers, looking aghast as a gleeful East Stand mimed a mauling by the Tigers.

You’d expect confidence to be coursing through the veins of City’s players at this point but a doubling of the lead made them oddly fearful. Everton were looking the more confident on the ball now and chasing Arteta’s long through ball Saha forced a save from Myhill with an angled shot. Whereas before we’d calmly pass our way out of defence we now punted the ball up field, and our heel-snapping pressure gave way to merely putting men behind the ball, allowing the blue shirts to stroke the ball around and gain momentum.

Phil Brown made a substitution, but it wasn’t the one you’d expect, instead of replacing the tiring Halmosi and bolstering the midfield with George Boateng we made a like for like change, Folan on for Cousin with twenty minutes remaining. Hmmm.

Then, as feared, the visitors pulled one back. Myhill punched away an Arteta free kick chipped into the box, Ashbee and Marney, imperious in the first half but absent in the second, watched as Osman was first to the loose ball, Zayatte half cleared a weak attempt on goal only for Cahill to smash a shot that hit the bar and bounced down, did it cross the line? Hard to say from the stands, but the officials gave it anyway and the tide had truly turned in this game.

The away fans found their voice at last and Everton were energised now. McShane dispossessed Osman in the box and then, for the googolplextieth time gave away the ball, side footing meekly to Arteta who squared to Saha and his deflected shot bent wide for a corner. Asleep, City allowed Phil Neville to race onto a short corner and deliver the ball into the box and after a few deflections  Myhill gathered the Nike size 5. Fellaini was offside when he hooked a shot over the bar , nonetheless the blue shirts had signalled their intention to get something from this game. Another substitution from City, Boateng at last? No, Garcia took the place of Mendy. Arrgh!

City were impotent up front now, with King knackered after leading the line and Folan looking weak and unimposing, the ball never stayed in Everton’s half for long, and the onslaught  continued. Zayatte found himself the wrong side of Saha but made up lost ground and poked the ball beyond the Frenchman to Myhill. Saha tumbled and appealed for a spot kick but it was a good recovery challenge from our Guinean guardian. No matter, as City were made to pay for their fearful play, Yakubu and Saha exchanged passes and from inside the 18 yard box Yakubu crossed for Osman who beat an exposed Zayatte to bundle the ball into the net. 2-2, and now we feared defeat going into the final 10 minutes having spent the first 70 of this game amusing ourselves with the notion that we’re in the title hunt.

Finally we introduce Boateng, bringing off King, and the experienced Dutchman brings some composure to the now ragged looking midfield. There’s more pressure from the Scousers though, Arteta hit’s a long ball into the box and Myhill, coming out, spills the ball to Saha, who is thankfully at an oblique angle to the near post and his shot hit’s the side netting (Boaz may have got a hand to it, hard to say, but a goal kick was awarded in any case.)

Boateng’s presence visibly calms City and we even had a run at goal before Marney, largely anonymous in the second half after a sublime first, was hauled down by Fellaini who saw yellow for the transgression. The home crowd willed Dawson to go for goal but he laid off to McShane on the right and his cross was easily dealt with. City’s attacking confidence had evaporated, a great shame given our earlier joy from set pieces. Osman hits a half volley over the bar and it’s soon over, leaving the Tiger Nation to shoe gaze, contemplating what could have been.

For 70 minutes we were superb and dominated a very good Everton side, but we lacked resilience against a side who were supposed to be a bit jaded after their midweek UEFA Cup adventure. Phil Brown might be regretting his decision to wait until 10 minutes from time to bring George Boateng’s calming influence into the game. It’s purely speculation of course but that move could have preserved a lead.

Ah well, though the immediate perspective is disappointment that we couldn’t close out a game we were in control of, the bigger picture is a pretty sight. Eight points from our first five games and we lie proudly in seventh place at this early stage. Even if we get a botty-burgled and set on fire at Arsenal next week that’s still a handy start, and in the long run a repeated cycle of a one goal win, a draw and a bumraping all season long would glean enough points to keep us in this division. You’d take that wouldn’t you? (LM)

Myhill 7.5; McShane 6; Turner 7.5; Zayette 8; Dawson 7.5; Mendy 7.5; Ashbee 7.5; Marney 8.5; Halmosi 7.5; King 7.5; Cousin 7; Folan 5.5

The Premier League – Saturday 13th September 2008

Hull City: the new Derby County. Or so we were sorrowfully told in the summer, the southern press instantly writing off as our chances as a speedier alternative to actually assessing them. Derby County’s traumatic season saw them win just one game. We’ve won two already, one of them on the road.

One of my greatest wishes for this season was an away win – to see City take on a Premier League side on their own patch and relieve them of three points. It was something evaded Derby on each of their nineteen attempts; it’s taken us just two.

And what a stirring victory it was, too. With the media’s fawning over Newcastle and their so-called “crisis” (of which more later), City snuck in, outplayed their hosts completely and proudly collected a win. Not a streaky win with goals against the run of play, or courtesy of outrageous good fortune, or thanks to errant officiating. City deserved this.

It was achieved with an unexpected XI, however – Halmosi in on the left, Fagan partnering King up front, Mendy on the right wing, McShane in for Ricketts and no Boateng or Geovanni. Cripes. It meant the Tigers adopted the familiar 4-4-2 formation with the unfamiliar line-up of: Myhill; McShane, Turner, Gardner, Dawson; Mendy, Ashbee, Marney, Halmosi; Fagan, King. Further surreality was lent to the City team by referee Andy Marriner’s insistence upon City wearing some borrowed Newcastle shorts and socks, with the official fretting that our all-slate/silver/grey/whatever kit would clash too much with Newcastle’s barcodes.

Ascending to one’s chosen spot in Newcastle away’s section is quite a task. Fourteen flights of steps await, as does a further climb once you arrive in. The view is quite extraordinary – a distance of some quarter-mile reputedly exists between the away supporters and the far goal. I can well believe it. And at first acclimatising to Subbeteo-type view takes some doing – however, it is better than it may appear at first, and the whole pitch can be taken in at once.

Attacking the far end of the stadium, City settled quickly and fashioned an early chance for Halmosi, whose shot was smothered by an on-rushing Newcastle defender. The home side responded by winning a corner in front of us – Xisco header it over. Back came City, enjoying themselves in a lively, open start to the game, and King had a shot comfortably clasped by Shay Given. Newcastle’s turn – Dawson was caught out on the left when Geremi’s powerful run left him stranded; he cut the ball to the far post where Guthrie had ghosted into space, but his shot was mis-hit and bobbled safely wide of Myhill’s left-hand post. A let-off for City.

Newcastle were enjoying their best spell of the game at this point, and could have taken the lead when an excellent Geremi free-kick saw England international Michael Owen evade his marker and send a header spearing towards Myhill’s goal – it looked a certain goal, until the City keeper instinctively hurled himself to the right and parried the ball to the side. A marvellous, game-changing save.

Its importance became even more important a few minutes later when King fed Halmosi on the left-hand side of the Newcastle area. Halmosi cleverly dragged the ball back inside and was flattened by a lunging challenge by Nicky Butt. Even from our distant perspective it was an obvious penalty, but Mr Marriner waited for a heart-stopping fraction of a second before awarding it.

Marlon King stepped up and confidently blatted the ball to Shay Given’s right…the Newcastle keeper got a firm hand to the ball, and pushed it onto the post, and it looked a certain miss…until suddenly the net bulged, King span away with delight (and possibly relief) and anarchy descended among the 3,000 Tigerfolk.

City held out strongly until the break despite a momentary alarm when the ball fell to a Newcastle player at the far post – however, it was Shola Ameobi, and we celebrated the goal-kick before he’d even had chance to shoot. Yes, he really is that bad.

Half-time, and we reflected chirpily upon a stirring half. Newcastle had taken the first part of the opening 45 on points but hit the canvas when King scored, and the Tigers were clear leaders on points. We were playing composed, attractive football, our men looking just a shade quicker in their endeavours than the leaden-footed home side. Too many Newcastle shoulders were drooping, both at their own limited scuffling about, and the off-field saga that has so convulsed the press of late.

We did, of course, partake of beverages and assorted sustenance at the interval, despite the entreaties of the home fans. One has to smile at their sweet belief that forgoing a pint and a pie would somehow cripple the finances of their billionaire owner. Bless. And as we trooped back for the second half, most of the home fans’ attention was focussed upon a banner being paraded around the ground bewailing the “cockney mafia” that they fancy has plunged their club into “crisis”.

Now wait just a minute here. All that’s happened is that a proven quitter with a mediocre track record of late has, err, quit. This is no crisis. But for the benefit of any Newcastle fans reading, I’ll tell what a crisis can consist of. It can mean you’re six points adrift at the bottom of Division Four. It can mean you’ve gone into administration. Again. It can mean a chairman wanting to move you to a dilapidated rugby ground. It can mean having Terry Dolan in charge. It can mean being locked out of your own ground. It can mean your clubs own owners looting everything that isn’t nailed down. The Newcastle fans’ utter lack of proportion is quite staggering, and they were rightly mocked throughout the game by the deafening Tiger contingent.

Rant over; on with the game. And we rather expected to have to withstand something of an onslaught at the beginning of the second half, with the Newcastle players presumably intent upon demonstrating they actually deserve to play for a Massive Club in front of the World’s Best Fans. Not a bit of it – the ball was a near-permanent fixture in the Newcastle half, and Turner sent a shot arcing over a half-cleared corner.

No matter, for a moment of beauty and perfection was just around the corner. A Newcastle corner was cleared Halmosi, who fed Marney inside his own half. An instant of vision and precision saw him send a forty-yard pass into the path of Marlon King, with only Coloccini blocking his path to goal. King thundered down the right, checked inside to leave the Newcastle defender sprawling, and curled a twenty-yard shot with his left foot past Given.

The City fans went absolutely mental at this. A goal spanning a hundred yards of the pitch in under ten seconds, a breakaway goal of genuine Premier League quality, a magnificent finish – even if this’d been an unimportant goal, it’d have been worth going nuts over. As the away end became a single amorphous mass of humanity, one sensed it wasn’t exactly unimportant.

Newcastle looked bitterly deflated, but they nearly got lucky straight away when an overhit cross nearly caught Myhill out – he palmed the ball onto the crossbar and it fell to safety. That aside, City were in complete command, convincingly out-playing an established Premier League on their own patch. We rubbed our eyes, and after a terrific round of left-side/right-side (I love that, and it sounds great on the television too), got down to some serious gloating: a successful request for Phil Brown to give us a wave was followed by a similar entreaty to Kevin Keegan. This duly rebuffed, we enquired as to Mr Keegan’s present whereabouts, before loudly suggesting that Newcastle and Grimsby were not as dissimilar as one may have thought. This was capped off by a joyous bout of “mauled by the Tigers”, which provoked the familiar look of puzzled seething common to its targets. Happy days.

There was, several thousand metres away, also some football going on, the hapless Ameobi making way for Gonzalez. Still City dominated, and it should have been 3-0 when a Turner header was softly ruled out by Mr Marriner – Shay Given had been felled as the ball came over, but by his own defender. Folan trotted on for Mendy, who’d given a sparkling account of himself on the right, with Fagan and Folan swapping positions. Hughes came on for Marney, who’d had a superb game in midfield and whose pass for the second goal was truly one to treasure. He didn’t look out of place at all.

Newcastle pulled a slightly fortuitous goal back with less than ten minutes remaining when N’Zogbia’s 20 yard shot rattled a post and bounced into the path of Xisco, who smartly finished it. One could possibly wonder why the City defence failed to react to the follow-up, but our lead was halved, and a frantic finale awaited.

Phil Brown brought Zayette on for his City debut in place of Marlon King as the Tigers aimed to shore things up, and Mr Marriner provoked groans of dismay by decided that five extra minutes were to be played as City grimly held on. And he was a busy man during that time, cautioning Halmosi for a deliberate foul to halt a Newcastle raid, and then producing a red card for a venomous assault on Craig Fagan by Guthrie. Bewilderingly, he was applauded from the pitch by the Newcastle fans still left in the ground – he was goaded from it by the amber masses, and with him Newcastle seemed to realise they had been bested.

No further goalmouth action took place, and after nearly seven additional minutes, Mr Marriner concluded things, and the City fans cavorted with glee as the players, starring Dancin’ Bernard Mendy, swarmed over to receive our acclaim.

Big, determined performances studded the whole pitch. Myhill made a magnificent save at 0-0. Turner and Gardner coped imperiously with most of Newcastle’s threats, while McShane was combative and resolute in his City debut. Marney and Ashbee controlled the midfield for large swathes of the game, while Halmosi and Mendy gave the side genuine width and pace. King was a battering ram – strong, skilful, predatory – while Craig Fagan has a scorching afternoon, a constant menace and disruptive irritant at all times.

A momentous afternoon. All manner of monkeys must be removed from our backs, all manner of ducks must be broken if we’re to survive. Geovanni scored that critical first ever Premier League goal; Caleb Folan ensured that first ever Premier League win; Garcia nodded us to that first ever away point; now Marlon King has fired us to a first ever Premier League win on the road. Few obvious milestones await, save for a clean sheet.

But no matter. City are fourth in the Premier League after four games, and survival is a genuine prospect. We don’t look out of place, and while a long hard winter awaits, and keeping key players fit and playing well is a must if we’re to have a chance, it has been an exhilarating start. We’re fighting hard, we’re scoring goals, the Tiger Nation has never been so loud and intense, and however it turns out, right now we’re loving it. (AD)

Myhill 7.5; McShane 7; Turner 7; Gardner 7.5; Dawson 7; Mendy 7.5; Ashbee 7; Marney 8; Halmosi 7; King 8; Fagan 8.5