A season to enjoy appropriately came to an end with a game to enjoy, and one which could give goalless draws a good name.

We saw, for a full 90 minutes, the Hull City we need to compete at this level properly and seriously. Fit, determined, skilful and cynical. It would have been tough for anyone flown in from some far-flung clime, a million miles away from thoughts of consulting the Championship table, to identify correctly the team looking to consolidate third place and the play-offs, and the team just looking to consolidate.

Peter Taylor cast aside all the talk from supporters and scribes about fielding an experimental, fledgling side for the visit to Vicarage Road. Russell Fry was nowhere to be seen, again. And Matt Duke just made the bench, again. Only one change to the starting XI was carded from the draw with pastel Preston at the KC, with Alton Thelwell - possibly for the last time - taking the right back spot from Scott Wiseman. So, backed by a huge, roaring, humorous and thoroughly affable travelling contingent of which I was dead proud to be a part, City lined up with Boaz Myhill in goal; Thelwell, Leon Cort, Damien Delaney and Alan Rogers at the back; Stuart Green, John Welsh, crustacean captain Keith Andrews and Kevin Ellison in the midfield; and Jon Parkin spearheading the front line with Craig Fagan.

Quick gripe before the real business - I've attended 80% of the games this season, and of those, all bar three via the use of my own car, and this was the closest I came to missing a kick off. Bank Holiday roadworks on the M1 near Luton didn't help, and it was the expectant roar of the travelling City fans as the players positioned themselves for the start of the game which was sounding as I handed my ticket over at the turnstile. So, Watford, if you do win the play-offs, and even if you don't, you're going to have to persuade your local councillors that opposing supporters might just perhaps need somewhere to park their vehicles. Every street had those dreadful 'permit holders' only signs and there were spaces everywhere, with the threat of a hundred quid in fines if you dared pop in. The private, blackboard-signed car parks - of which there were two (two!) - were full. It's a long way from Hull, it's a long way from Newcastle, it's a long way from Liverpool - let people put their cars somewhere if you want their money and noise.

Anywaysies... City had gathered together another awesome support, filling the Vicarage Road stand, and there was a genuine impression that the players were playing directly for us, pretty much from the off. There had been some controversial criticism at the fans' forum, after Derby and especially Sheffield United, that the players weren't acknowledging the support anywhere near enough. But there seemed to be a link between the pace of City's attacking and the tunes coming from the alcohol-marinated throats of the heaving throng, even though City weren't attacking that end.

The game picked up real pace after the first real chance when Andrews climbed highest to head a Green corner straight at willowy keeper Ben Foster. Then Parkin, whose holiday can't come soon enough, chested down a Myhill punt and went for the ploy of catching the keeper off guard with an instant whap of a bouncer, but it went so wide it's possible that Foster was grinning like a berk as he watched it on its way.

Rogers, the best player in a City shirt since the day he walked through the door, injected some previously unseen pace into his game as he used Ellison as a decoy to find room for a piler which flew a long way too high. Watford, despite plenty of possession and some real threat through the pace up front of their three strikers, were not seemingly in the business for creating urgent chances - hardly surprising for a team which needed a mere point for third place - but decided to get involved at last when Alhassan Bangura swerved in a nasty-looking free kick which Myhill dropped, and some excellent bodyblocking from Delaney and Thelwell kept out the two snapshots which resulted.

Green, again stringing together visionary passes and collating a high ratio of willing runs for the ball, exuded all the confidence of his recent upsurge in form when he took a Parkin nod down from 30 yards and, like the Beast previously, tried to dip a bouncing one from distance which was a good deal closer than Parkin's go as it dropped just the wrong side of the bar. Foster was probably not smirking this time. Fagan then sweetly touched back a low Thelwell cross to Green, in a good position to fire, but the ball got irritatingly stuck between his feet as he tried to judge the swing of his boot.

Watford had further chances; the awkward Darius Henderson sent in-form striker partner Ashley Young in the clear but Myhill did magnificently to block the goalbound shot with his legs. He then did similarly when an excellent break by the narcissistic ManYoo loanee Chris Eagles - all Brylcreem and white boots - sent Marlon King into our iconic keeper's eyeline, and Myhill won the battle of wits, again getting a flailing leg to the ball and keeping our net unbulged.

Worries followed for City when Rogers was heard to yelp in pain before crashing to the ground clutching a leg as Eagles scuttled away from him. The pullback was wellied over by King and Rogers needed treatment prior to re-introduction. During this time, a chorus had gone up for each of the four outfield subs as they did their star jumps down the touchline, and all four responded with applause, plus a sheepish grin from Billy Paynter as the rather neanderthal tone of his chant met his turn on warm-up. But then some sharp-eyed harmoniser within City's two competing factions of singers - more on that in a bit - spotted a certain Ian Ashbee, recovering captain and colossus, in the crowd, and several verses of his song, one which we haven't sung since August 29th, became the next on the repertoire. It was fantastic to hear - and indeed sing - it again. Can't wait to re-sing it when he's on the pitch.

Myhill made a comfortable save at his near side from a Henderson header, and then thwarted the same opponent again with a stretching fingertipper round the post after Adrian Mariappa had wrecked City's defence with a hard-chucked long throw.

City responded with Ellison turning and having a dig from distance which Foster had to judge carefully before catching, then the keeper made his best stop of the game thus far when Green clattered one in his direction after Ellison and Parkin had combined smartly to create the space.

So, a goalless first half but there was much to applaud as City disappeared down the bright yellow pull-out tunnel of Watford's traditional, partly rebuilt ground. With City suffering only one defeat in the last eight games, and possessing a fairly reasonable habit of picking up deserved points away from home all season, optimism could be smelt among the usual half-time aroma combo of tepid pies and fag smoke.

Rogers was withdrawn, possibly because of the studding he took on his leg in the first half, as the ready-made Andy Dawson was available to step in. Mr Taylor also decided that Fagan had done enough this season and gave the still-settling Darryl Duffy another chance to show the City fans that he really has the stomach for the task ahead. Immediately he took a Parkin touch down the inside right channel and saw the goal before him, but over-compensated for Foster's clever angle-narrowing and put the shot two yards wide. But Duffy looked nimble and keen in an instant, and as Parkin got tired and dead-legged very quickly (again), the flighty Scotsman soon became our best hope for a second half goal.

Welsh, whose usual brand of winning 'n' giving midfield mastery was on display again, made a rare foray (too rare - anybody who remembers the euphoria of that goal at Coventry finds themselves constantly pleading for the bullet-headed Scouser to have another run at a defence) into deep Watford territory and hit a low, bending shot which Foster did well to deal with considering he had half his back four obstructing his view of the ball. City then had their best chance yet when Dawson curled in a gorgeous free kick on to the lethal forehead of an entirely unmarked Cort, but the ball was aimed a yard wide with the whole travelling contingent on the first syllable of celebration.

By now, the complete absence of any regular resident singing act among the Watford devotees (notwithstanding the tiresome presence of a drum somewhere - bet they play Tom Hark when they score, too) had prompted the City fans to look elsewhere for amusement and a target in song, so the group on the right side of the Vicarage Road stand began a duet with the similarly sized group to their left which was endearing and, frankly, very funny. "We're the right side, we're the right side, we're the right side of Hull City" warbled they, to the tune of that "Championes" song. The, er, left side responded with the one obvious lyrical change. This went on for some time, back and forth - those in the middle were reminded of the heady days of mono music centres. Mockery of each other followed with "who are ya?" and "come in a taxi" accusations, before the "right side" won the joust with a chant of "you should have sat with the Watford" which prompted applause all round. Typically last day, to go with the geezer dressed as Tigger and the woman who thought a pure white tutu would go quite well with her black and amber stripes.

Makes it sound like the game was eventless at this stage, which wasn't the case. City stepped it up again - boy was this a good performance. It needed a goal, but it felt like we'd get one. Parkin won yet another header down for Duffy who managed to get Ellison some room to his left, but as the runalongawinger shaped to shoot, Watford's impeccable defender Jay DeMerit put a foot in to rob the ball. At the other end, dancing sub Anthony McNamee - the scourge of Mark Lynch in the home game (crikey, that feels like years ago now) - was cleanly put through but Myhill again got a telescopic leg to the ball.

Duffy, anxious and eager, was then searched out by a truly glorious long ball from Ellison and seemed to have the edge on DeMerit but, as the City fans urged the Scot towards goal and glory, the American defender slid in to complete a whistle-clean tackle which City fans were seen to spontaneously applaud. It was brilliant, dammit. Perfect, actually.

City kept trying, while the Tigers fans started singing "we love you Watford" in the absence of any such virtuous activity from the home support, and Parkin switched play intelligently from a half-cleared set piece to give the composed Andrews a rare sniff of glory from a tight angle, but he seemed caught in two minds as he hit a feeble shot straight at Foster from just five yards out.

The last two chances of the season were shared; Bangura teed up a volley which he then smacked venomously at the alert Myhill - a supreme save, and this time with his hands rather than legs - and then Ellison struck City's final meaningful shot of the season when he was given just enough space to dig one out from the corner of the box, but it swerved a yard high and wide. Shortly afterwards, he half-chased a through ball before giving up due to chronic fatigue which was clearly evident on his pained face, and he was swiftly substituted for Ryan France, leaving the field to yet another massive ovation. The away support took Ellison firmly into their bosom this season.

At the final whistle, Watford learned that they'd be facing Crystal Palace in their play-off semi (so we'll be playing Watford again next season then) while the City players, manager and coaching staff took time to congratulate the supporters at length for being very loud, boisterous and inspirational through the season. You get the impression that Peter Taylor really likes us now.

The final league table? City end with 52 points, a whole ten clear of the drop and, from 18th position, finishing above supposedly more glittery names in Sheffield Wednesday, Derby County and QPR. This season has been an unqualified success, fantastic fun and - except when Burnley turned up - never dull.

Mr Taylor has kept us up with room and time in abundance, and has done so with some adversity to contend with. Losing several key players - not least the inspirational Ashbee, whose form in his half-dozen games made a remarkable mockery of the view that the Championship would be a bridge too far - and also having to cope with the realities of hard-ground Championship opposition while trying to school his League One and Two players into becoming likewise has added to the challenge, and everyone involved has risen to it. Look at Green, Ellison, Delaney - players unrecognisable from the lost or starstruck souls whom they appeared to be back in September.

Although folk like Steve McPhee and Danny Coles can join their skipper in saying they never had a season, those who did play an elongated, significant part can all look the City fans in the face and say they contributed to a good season, one which was about finding feet and learning the ways and tricks of this level. Next we'll see whether everything they've taken on, everything which came into their game in the closing weeks which suggested they'd digested the toughening of standards that this division brings, can be translated into big results and a ruthlessness in performance, further raising the bar next season. And we'll watch them do it.

Hope you've enjoyed the reports. (MR)