It's hard to know how to feel after the trip to Brighton (aside from completely knackered). Underwhelmed, yes - by both football quality and stadium facility. Disappointed - certainly yes, as City's recent form suggested that the Seagulls were more beatable than mere comparisons in personnel would suggest. But worried? Maybe not. It was a bad game. There'll be worse when City get points and better when City end up potless. It's just, well, we should have won. We really should.

The Withdean athletics stadium, used reluctantly but choicelessly by Brighton, really is like playing at Costello. The jokes you've heard in the East Stand foyer or Halfway House were dead on balls accurate. Add on the idiocy of local politics which forced the game into a Friday night reschedule and you can understand why the devout Tigers On Tour were a bit annoyed with how the whole spectacle turned out.

Peter Taylor, on familiar territory, divides Brighton's following to this day about whether he was within his rights to walk out on the club; he is starting to divide City's following over his tactical decisions more and more. He dumped the on-song Billy Paynter to the bench; recalled Stuart Elliott but chose a withdrawn forward behind Craig Fagan; and put Ryan France at right back, which negated the need for the industrious but dodgy Mark Lynch and gave last week's late showboater Jason price a rare starting chance. Quickly then, it was Myhill; France, Cort, Collins and Dawson; Price, Welsh, Delaney and Elliott; Barmby just beneath the lone marauding of Fagan.

The pre-match pub within the Withdean complex was welcoming, if fantastically understaffed, and once the travelling Tigers had stretched their legs and livers with a stroll and an ale, they decamped to their unsheltered seating area, 36 miles from the goal and devoid of any real atmospheric potential as a consequence. One female fan being asked to give up her chip fork by a mad steward responded with the top line "Who do you think I am? Fatima Whitbread?" The humour, erm, remained for much of the first half as City supporters playfully, erm, exchanged chants with the fans to their right about their respective sexualities ("we all hate poofs" to the "we all hate Leeds" motif was one such enlightened ditty). Meanwhile, City took an early lead.

A free kick was swung high and long by Andy Dawson to the far post where Leon Cort kept with tradition by winning the aerial battle. His nod goalwards was stabbed into the roof by Elliott and away we went. Taylor's cautiousness - "careful negativity" as one City fan described it, with a shake of the head - allowed Brighton to recover swiftly from the shellshock and emerge as the more forceful XI of the half.

City's defence was well-numbered but unable to get close as Brighton swept the ball confidently across the opposition half and gave Sebastian Carole room and enough time to aim a shot beyond Bo Myhill's reach.

Barmby, whose swapping of roles with Elliott seemed to cause as much confusion for City's players as it did for Brighton's, nearly put the Tigers back in front with a close range header well tipped away by Alan Blayney, but it was the home side who looked the more likely to take a lead into the break. And, almost inevitably, they did, with a splendidly placed shot from distance by Charlie "fourteen middle names" Oatway which looped around Myhill's grasp at the optimum moment, with the City fans behind that goal grumbling in numbers towards the portabogs and chip van as the teams trudged tunnelwards. But there was clearly a victory still in this.

Taylor made two surprising substitutions at the break, withdrawing the ineffective John Welsh and giving Stuart Green yet another chance to show that his brand of "look at me" football can actually work at this level; and taking off Barmby and putting Paynter into the action about 45 minutes later than planned.

Paynter's introduction to the team brought out the best again in Craig Fagan, who scampered after through-balls and knockdowns with great eagerness compared to the more forlorn, lost figure looking for a regular batman in the first half. City began the second half in a bright manner - Price hit a close-range volley which Blayney turned aside with some astonishing reflexes (an offside flag dulled the pain of the save a little) and Dawson, who benefitted from City's possessional dominance by not having to worry about Leon Knight's pace on the flank for a while, picked up the half-cleared scraps of a City attack to boot an instepped, dipping howitzer beyond Blayney's helpless palm and over the top via the bar. A cross from France caught Elliott man-watching as his marker missed his header but Elliott failed to track the ball's path as a result, when a tad-more alertness would have seen him on goal and destined to nab his second. And a stonewall penalty was waved away when Fagan went down under some obviously over-friendly attentions from a Brighton defender.

Still, an equaliser seemed inevitable, but the wit of the Brighton fans' chant of "Two one, to the shirtlifters; two one, to the shirtlifters..." became more and more well-placed as City ran out of ideas for a longer chunk of the second half.

With his attacking options now exhausted, Taylor brought on Keith Andrews for the tired and tiresome Price - who yet again failed to turn substitute's bluster into starting worthiness - and the ex-Wolves man added a spot of bite and composure to the sterling midfield work of Damien Delaney, who again showed that versaitility can quite easily be all it's cracked up to be.

City fought to the end but were annoyingly reluctant to shoot, seeming hell bent on trying to pass their way to the six yard box. Desperate half-efforts were mopped up by a grateful Brighton defence, who used luck but also coolness to keep their heads, their lead and, eventually, the three points. I really wish we'd go for broke when we're behind with five minutes left and leave Leon Cort up front with the strikers. Brighton were less than equipped to break away at this late stage, and Myhill had nothing to do.

The final whistle was greeted with limited applause from the City fans, none for the travelling support that we could observe from the City manager, and a host of mutterings about long trips and missed opportunities.

Although we're hardly unused to unpleasant stadia and inadequate opponents in a life of watching City, the whole issue of distance, venue, time of week and time of day were all forgivable if the team could do what the previous four games had suggested were not only possible, but expected. But we're still reminded to expect the unexpected at times with City when we go to Brighton and lose a game which lacked attitude, despite the domination. Time is on City's side, of course, so worrying should be reserved for the event of our position being unimproved by March. However, surely a defeat at the pleasant and more accessible ground of Crewe Alexandra is now out of the question? Come on City.

Merry Christmas. (MR)