In spite of the plaudits-over-points argument which enveloped round the concourses and post-match boozers in Hull, it's fair to say that City can feel a little aggrieved over this result.

Yes, we were outclassed and out of puff in the second half. Yes, we didn't take our chances. Yes, we were playing a seasoned, well-honed, experienced and deadly team who know this division like the backs of their grubby hands. Yes, they have a manager of hard-knock graduation who has forgotten more about this type of footballing night than most of us will ever know.

But for half an hour, we were better. We destroyed them. We should have been three up and playing Peter Taylor's shop-shutting game. The fact that we weren't says everything about just how far we still have to go. It's time to put the brakes on the sense of immediate expectation which too many fans cling to, and see the wood for the trees.

We're okay, but City do have a limited squad. What Championship and beyond class we do have (Nicky Barmby, Keith Andrews, Boaz Myhill) is tempered by the amount of mere potential and obvious deadwood kicking around the changing rooms. Too many City players were out of their depth in the second half against the Blades, not through gallons of respect (for once, which was good) but sheer ability and general nous. Players like Stuart Elliott, Andy Dawson and Damien Delaney, for all their God-like status round the KC's mock-marble (ie, breezeblocked) halls, have to prove themselves all over again and it'll take more than this season to do it. Next year, assuming we stay up (and few of the most ardent pessimists are predicting relegation, which is a good sign), the likes of Elliott, Dawson and Delaney will be tougher, hungrier and more astute for this type of game.

Think back to the 1-1 draw against Reading, Afterwards, Mr Taylor praised the team and said that Reading's status were a good indication of where he wants us to be in two years' time. That'll do for me, even though none of us (the gaffer included) could have foreseen that Reading would be 18 massive points clear of the play-off spots by January, and maybe that sort of level is asking too much. But we're getting there. There is a real appetite around the players at the moment, even if tactical restrictions and a lack of mental toughness and fresh ideas when things go belly-up renders us vulnerable. This happened last night against a completely ruthless and well-schooled Blades side, headed by a manager who knows exactly what he's doing. Hate Neil Warnock if you want (although there was a surprisingly welcome absence of anti-Warnock chanting from the normally unrepetant City faithful), but bloody hell, you wouldn't mind him as your gaffer, if only for his play-off record and ability to keep you in the papers.

City made a couple of mildly baffling changes from the Leeds defeat - despite his excellent substitute appearance at Elland Road, there was no place in the 16 for Scott Wiseman, with the fit-again Ryan France returning to the right back role which isn't really his and never should be, even though he can play there with some aplomb. Mark Lynch survived to the extent of a bench place, while Barmby was, with some relief, back in the team as Craig Fagan had a ligament problem which needed resting. Barmby and Elliott did the usual confusion-over-who's-on-the-left routine which left Billy Paynter more isolated, and City's line-up scanned thus: Myhill; France, Cort, Collins, Dawson; Price, Andrews, Delaney, Elliott; Barmby and Paynter. Hobson's choices on the bench, with Kevin Ellison and Stuart Green's borrowed time extending further, alongside Lynch, an eager Curtis Woodhouse and keeper Matt Duke.

Although Myhill needed to make an early reflex save from Michael Tonge, the bright, engaging start to the game was supplied majorly by City, for whom Barmby was to the fore. It's in games like this, where odds, reputation and personnel give us no chance whatsoever, where we need our one player of a world-class pedigree to feel like it, and the ex Springheader did just that. A gorgeous first touch as he turned, off balance, on the edge of the area, spun the Blades defenders a fine yarn and the instant lob was accurate and heading for the goal of the season award until the superb Paddy Kenny, showing awareness which defied his girth, backpedalled furiously to tip the chance skywards.

City, backed by an East Stand of real vocal metallurgy, then took a deserved lead when a searching pass bounced away from Paynter into the path of the incutting Jason Price, whose instinctive left-footed curler, on the half volley, would have been picked out of his net by any goalkeeper you care to mention. The ground went truly berserk, and quite rightly. This was enthralling stuff.

As if we knew that a solitary goal wasn't enough (and of course we knew) City continued to pile it on, but the visitors knew what they were doing.

Luck favoured them in their equaliser, with Paul Ifill striding clear until Dawson's desperate lunge deflected the ball from his left foot shot wickedly and slowly past the keeper's big hands and in at the far post. Desperate for City, but these things happen against big teams on big occasions, and arguments suggested that Ifill had no real right to expect to score from such an angle without the aid of a defender. Dawson, however, was doing his job and it was just a massive slice of poor fortune which robbed City of their lead.

The loud, plentiful and highly impressive travelling support (note to Wednesday fans - this is how you support your team on your travels, you fools) were, er, loud and impressive in their relieved celebration of a fortuitous equaliser, but the Tiger flask-holders responded in kind with fresh chants and a vocal impetus which set City's inspired players away again. This first half was genuinely about a combination of fans and players helping each other.

So, City started over, and Dawson's sublime free kick was deflected by the forehead of Elliott on to the charging Leon Cort, whose thunderous volley (yes, Leon Cort's thunderous volley; not Leon Cort's towering header, but Leon Cort's thunderous volley) was in at the near post until Kenny's charmed fingers managed to divert it on to the post and safely behind. The consequent corner, swept in expertly by Dawson, got half a touch at the near post and proceeded to avoid everyone in the penalty spot zone when just one thrusting ankle would surely have been enough to restore the lead. Instead, the visitors got it, in circumstances which mixed more outrageous ill-fortune with shocking naivete.

At Leeds, City showed a longing for the half time tea and talk which was too early for their more doughty opponents, and this concentration lapse cost us a goal from which we never recovered. Sadly, this was to happen again, as City relaxed too quickly once the injury board had gone up, and the Blades pilfered the lead in a highly dubious manner.

A sliderule ball aimed towards the centralised Price had just about reached its man when the afroed City wanderer took a shove in the back from David Unsworth and collapsed, without a hint of feigning or overacting. But the ref deemed the challenge fair, which had the Tiger faithful screaming for blood, especially as Unsworth then proceeded to send a fine pass through to the dangerous Danny Webber, who took advantage of shellshock and indiscipline from City's whole defence to seize up the chance, cut in and fire one inside Myhill's far stick.

City's element rightly and roundly booed the ref, whose indecision was final in terms of the punishment for his belief that Price went down too simply. Barmby led the hundred-mile-an-hour-dash to the official in mad protestation (although only Price followed suit) and City had barely regrouped and restarted, done over by the officials, before the ref blew for half time and spent his journey towards the tunnel listening to the raging bays from the seats and the choice words of critique from an incandescent Barmby. That said, someone should have stopped Webber. There can be no doubt that had the tables been turned and someone like Elliott had been running at the Sheffield United barrier, the likes of Chris Morgan would have decked him - or at least forced him wide or backwards - rather than tempting him to shoot. But the rawness at this level of France, Cort and the worryingly exposed Sam Collins are plainly apparent when bigshot forwards are in their faces, and they're playing above their experiences right now. They'll learn, and the Blades were going to get a goal one way or another. An argument certainly applies that Unsworth had already picked up an innocuous booking and therefore a whistle from the ref might have led to the softest red card in footballing history, the sort which would make players, managers, officials and fans pack up the game and go to the greyhound racing instead. But for all the motives behind the goal, the fact is that Webber had no right to get himself into a scoring position when he received Unsworth's ball. For the first time, City showed the Blades some respect - and look where it got them.

The second half was more of a non-event, with City unable to recreate the passionate tempo which had kept their visitors occupied through most of the first period. In short, they were both shattered and deflated, and the icing on Sheffield United's well-layered cake was spread on 52 minutes when Chris Armstrong assessed his angles impeccably from Webber's through ball to fire a shot across Myhill and make the result safe. Their patient fans were joyful, and quite rightly, with Premiership football looking a certainty, and well done to them for their noise and numbers, although they do need more songs. Still, they were the best visitors we'd had since Derby and we thank them for it and wish them luck.

The dearth of real options on the bench to freshen City's stalling challenge was hammered home when Stuart Green was pitched in for the tiring, confused Elliott and proceeded to yet again wave his arms, point to the corner flags and fail to deliver anything on the point of a pin. Curtis Woodhouse, on at the same time for the less influential than of late Andrews, received nothing during his spell on the turf other than a daft yellow card and, upon entrance, a pleasant burst of applause from the travelling fans, recalling his days in their particular colour of stripes.

When Kevin Ellison - a player who deserves more respect than most for his sheer effort and commitment, despite being patently underblessed with actual ability - came on, the towel had clearly been thrown in. Game over, two consecutive defeats to Yorkshire opponents and a 17th spot in the table.

Mr Taylor needs to hope that plenty of stores remain open over the next calendar month because replenishment - if only for substitution purposes - is urgently required. We need a new right back, for starters. If he doesn't rate Wiseman then that's his prerogative, but he has to get the next one right. Lynch is plainly not up to it, Thelwell and Stockdale clearly lack dependency and cheapness, and France doesn't deserve to have his development messed about with constantly. We also need some more creativity through the centre - even if Barmby does end up there, he is 32 next month and not a futuristic option - and we need one, or possibly two new strikers. Real ones. Ones who can learn and develop and not break the bank, but still be relied upon to deliver without too much gentle initiation required. Easier said than done, and all we can do is rely on Mr Taylor's cautious judgement and hope it comes through.

There are other questions which we ponder. Where's John Welsh? Is there any real prospect of Myhill departing? Is Delaney a real midfield option for the whole season? Will Mr Taylor drop Collins to let him ponder his lack of positional shrewdness? Why is Elliott not firing? And, most of all, will we go for it, I mean really go for it, and halt the curse of the cameras when Aston Villa pay us a visit? I worry, because of Blackpool in the League Cup - something nags at my mind's back that we might want out of this one early too. Yet it's a bigger competition, a huge audience, a Premiership opponent, a live BBC debut and a home tie. Come on City, it's time someone got a good hiding - if Donny can do it... (MR)