So we end our home campaign with a five match unbeaten run, and but for one slightly iffy piece of goalkeeping we'd have ended it with five clean sheets as well.

But hey, that's churlish. Boaz Myhill is certain to walk off with the Player of the Season award, and the goal which finally did for him was a fine piece of opportunism from Preston's makeshift striker Simon Whaley.

The goal added the cherry to a polished opening half hour from Preston, whose shirts were of a pastel-blue shade which Don Johnson would have worn proudly, as they scurried around City's rearguard with some effortless pass 'n' move football which was as aesthetically impressive as it was possessionally effective. It was clear not just from the League table, nor just from the 3-0 tonking we took at Deepdale in November (though City was a very different team then and it's the only real 90-minute capitulation of the season), but also from the general attitude in footballing terms from that opening 30 that Preston were a considerably better football team than City.

Their fans were loud too, even though most of the ones chanting the provocative songs from the back two rows of the North Stand were all about 14 years old (if you want to know how to follow an away team with class, lads, try watching Derby's touring loyalists) and that "We Are Superior" song, complete with matching flag (nice) got very grating at times.

Anywaysies, the game. Peter Taylor chose to restore Kevin Ellison to the left flank and ditched Billy Paynter from the right, allowing Stuart Green to return to the more natural of the two wider roles and re-balance the midfield which looked way out of sorts at Derby. No other changes to the starting XI were forthcoming, so Myhill was again shielded by Scott Wiseman, Leon Cort, Damien Delaney and Alan Rogers; Green and Ellison worked either side of John Welsh and skipper Keith "The Crab" Andrews; while Craig Fagan paired up again on the goal hunt with Jon Parkin.

Preston kept the possession, but it was City who fashioned the chances when they were allowed the ball. Rogers, who was easily the best striped player on the park and whose permanent arrival is now an absolute necessity, hurled in a smattering of dangerous long throws - the first produced the best chance as Fagan miskicked wide from a decent position.

Rogers subsequently swung in a corner on to Delaney's unmarked head, but perhaps the shellshock of getting a free header against such a resolutely mean outfit did for the Irishman's composure, and he flashed the chance a yard over. Then Wiseman won a fantastic 50-50 ball and scampered threateningly into opposition territory, before hitting a divine cross which just evaded the stretches of both Ellison and Parkin.

Preston's contribution at this stage had been some intricate, cool passing but only one real chance - a shot from Jason Jarrett which was still rising as it hit the back of the South Stand. Then a Preston fan got thrown out for little more, it seemed, than loitering with intent to stand up for the more unexciting moments of a football match and, amidst the cheering and "Bye bye, bye bye" singing from the East Stand, it showed yet again that the rules on standing represent little more than the opportunity to give stewards a police status which they don't deserve. Especially as City fans were being filmed at the same time.

Preston scored just after the half hour when a long ball caught Delaney in no man's land between point of bounce and point of jump. As a consequence, Whaley read astutely that our accomplished centre back was going to mistime the header, and he raced away on to the ball and took the dig early, catching Myhill unawares. The keeper got fingertips to it but really should have got a whole palm. The ball nestled in the corner and Myhill kept his head hidden in his horizontal state, as if to scold himself for not keeping it out.

His opposite number, the respected (if trichologically dubious) Carlo Nash, was after a clean sheets record for the club, which would have been some achievement bearing in mind this was a team had once been football's dominant force. However, his bonfire was extinguished more by his own team-mates than any really perilous situation conceived by City. Two minutes before the break, Fagan set off on a run from his own half which was ended cynically by Youl Mawene's foul. He picked up a yellow card and then further added his ignominous name to the stats sheet immediately when he chested the free kick past his own keeper with Andrews following in. A rotten way from an away point of view to see the history book snapped shut in front of Nash, but City were level.

They'd deserved to be, as in the ten minutes between the two goals City had stepped up and created. Nash punched a Rogers corner as far as Ellison's deserted head on the edge of the box, and the instinctive nod back dropped just wide. Fagan then embarked on a familiar chase before swinging one on to Parkin's instep, but - just like his best chance at Derby - he hit the volley into the ground and it bounced over the bar.

Half time came, and a superb show of keepie-up (undoubtedly not inspired by the impromptu display by the Burnley subs a week earlier) from a bloke with ginger hair and a City short was applauded loudly by all four ends of the KC, especially that bit where he put a hat on and then managed to remove it - a la tablecloth and dishes - while the ball was balanced on his head. They don't teach that at Lilleshall. Also, if a player learned how to carry the ball on the back of the net and run with it, as this chap did, how on earth could an opponent win it off him? Colin Murphy is scribbling down new methods for pre-season training as we sit here.

The majority of the second half was event-free. Passes from both sides went astray and chances were not forthcoming. Much of the entertainment came from the banter between the two sets of fans - nice of Preston to begin the first "we all hate Leeds" rendition of the second half, and for the East Stand to join in, sportingly adopting the musical key of those 14 year olds with unbroken voices. Preston entertain the WS in the final game of the season. Agenda clear.

Rogers committed an unarguable handball and the dangerous winger Chris Sedgwick received the free kick quickly, stroking in a penetrative cross which a pressured Cort did well to hack clear from his own six yard area. Sedgwick then arrowed in another which evaded the misinterpreted jump of Wiseman, and Jarrett's second ball gave a great opportunity for jobbing half-Italian disc jockey and mouthboy Daniele Dichio to restore the lead, but he sliced it.

Darryl Duffy came on for the roundly applauded Fagan and immediately set up a chance via an ace run down the flank which took two defenders away and allowed the supporting Welsh room for a cross. Ellison got the first flick which gave Parkin a nice opening but Nash saved with his feet. Welsh then won a superb 50-50 to get Duffy a sight of goal down the inside right channel, but he skied the ball. The Scotsman, still seeking his first goal at the KC, then had another go when he caught a dodgy back header but Nash's reflexes successfully made a grab at the chipped ball.

Preston rallied for the last quarter as Whaley managed to poke an awkward shot towards Myhill's near post which our custodian dealt with well. Dichio aimed a ludicrously free header straight at the keeper from the resulting corner, then acquired a yellow card for having an off ball kick at Wiseman.

Mr Taylor withdrew the endeavour of Ellison for the bluster of Paynter with seven minutes left, and Wiseman made a later exit for Alton Thelwell. By the time of these two substitutions, both teams were obviously exhausted and everyone in the stadium had settled for a draw.

After the game, a percentage stayed behind for the traditional lap of honour, which was preceded by Mr Taylor on the microphone assuring us that more progress would be made next season and - in a soundbite which will please the chairman - imploring us to sort out our season tickets quickly. The suited and booted players who were too injured (Ashbee, McPhee, Coles, Barmby, France, Elliott), too rubbish (Lynch) or both (Collins, Burgess) joined their 15 on-duty mates for the slowest lap of honour in the history of football, and the KC breathed its final Tigerish sigh for three months.

Positives were few and far between, as nobody played badly but, befitting of a summery game when both sides know their fate, nobody really put their balls on the line either. Rogers was the fine exception - what a super player he is. That large constitution of his is clearly muscular, as he looks very fit and naturally athletic for someone who has been barely training for a year, and what a boon it would be, having seen the evidence, if City can pick him up on a proper contract over the summer. He tackles unconditionally, his distribution is good, he can organise and shout, he is a willing brotherly figure to the Wiseman-type kids on the block who need the encouragement, and on the bonus front, he throws longly and delivers accurate set-pieces. Two or three more of his sort of calibre and heritage scattered about the turf would suit us fine.

Watford's party now separates us from the summer. This time last year I couldn't wait for next season due to intrigue, nerves and achievement. I feel exactly the same now, except not nervous. In 2006/7 we have nothing and nobody to fear, if the evidence of the last nine months acts as a genuine representation of what the Championship is about. Bring it on. (MR)