The reaction of the Tiger Nation after the 5-1 bumraping at Colchester was as you’d expect, one of existential gloom and anger. The chairman’s reaction was an expression of humiliation and an apparent softening of his earlier, strongly stated stance that he’d not sack the manager in his first year. Perhaps the most important reaction to the Layer Road lashing would be that of the players, if they wanted the manager to stay, they’d display that desire in their performance against Southampton.

The eleven chosen by Phil Parkinson to make the case for his continuation as Hull City manager were: Myhill; Delaney, Turner, Coles, Ricketts; Elliott, Ashbee (Capt.), Livermore, Marney; Fagan and Barmby.

If those players genuinely want to take the heat off their beleaguered boss you’d expect them to come out at a hundred miles an hour, all guns blazing wouldn’t you? Well, it didn’t happen. Ok so Ian Ashbee went into a stupid challenge, raking his studs down Rudi Skacel’s thighs, but that’s just Ian Ashbee making yet another stupid challenge rather than displaying fighting spirit for his manager, because the captain, like those around him, looked fairly sluggish and inert.

A bit like the atmosphere in the stands, the home fans were so quiet you could hear the sound of Jon Parkin’s beard growing as he listened to his iPod in the West Stand. They were briefly roused when Barmby dinked a ball into the box for Craig Fagan who, off balance, fired his shot high and wide. Not long after Fagan created for Barmby, whipping in a delicious cross from the left wing that Barmby, having made a clever run, couldn’t strike cleanly as he stretched the ball was studded straight into the keeper’s hands.

Still being played at a pedestrian pace, the game became a bit tennis like, with each side taking turns to have a shot. A red shorted Saint struck a shot wide left before Elliott blasted a shot also wide left at the other end. Southampton’s attempts on goal looked more dangerous than ours, and Bo Myhill was forced to make a superb save to claw away Kenwyne Jones unchallenged header for a corner.

Roused from their slumber, some City fans chose to make some noise, but it wasn’t exactly supportive to the lads, as that noise came in the form of ironic cheers when Myhill elected to throw the ball out to Ricketts a few times rather that simply hoof it beyond the half way line. They later took to bellowing ‘ole’ as the Tigers passed the ball about in their own half. The oles stopped when on 18 minutes Livermore surrendered possession cheaply near the West Stand touchline and Jones scampered down the wing before delivering a ball that dissected our defence and went beyond Myhill for Rasiak, one of the few Poles in Britain not fixing water pipes or people’s teeth, to easily poke the ball in the net. 1-0 Southampton.

After a few minutes hobbling about Dean Marney was replaced by Ryan France. Not long after we were 2-0 down. Elliott made a standing tackle from behind a redshort and it was whistled for a free kick about 25 yards out. While City’s players bumbled about trying to form a wall, Welsh prodigy Gareth Bale clipped the ball around them and beyond the despairing grasp on Myhill who saw it graze the right upright on its way in. 25 minutes in and two down against a team that aren’t that good despite their talented roster.

Stuart Elliott had a shot deflected and Livermore volleyed the dropping ball towards the scoreboard. After that came a period that I’m obliged to term ‘largely formless’, City looked broken and Southampton were content to sit on a two goal lead. Barmby held out his arms in a manner that said ‘that ball I knocked ten yards in front of you, you’d have gotten to that if you had any vision but instead you’ve made me look a meff’ a few times.

The half looked set to peter out when suddenly City fluked their way back into it. A corner kick was drilled in tight to the by-line and it caused Davis in the Saints goal some consternation, he punched the ball away and it fell to Ashbee who shaped to shoot but fell forward and shanked it, he may have been pushed, he may have just stumbled, Nick Barmby didn’t care either way and turned to smash the ball in. 2-1. In first half stoppage time City drew level when Kenwyne Jones made an ill advised back pass that was pounced upon by Fagan who poked the ball beyond Davis and just inside the post. 2-2.

Those two goals, as gratefully as they were received by the Tiger Nation, wallpapered over not just mere cracks, but gaping chasms. Frankly our defending is abysmal, especially the centre half pairing of Coles and Turner, and our midfield barely looked interested. Still, we have barely deserved parity, and with Leeds and Barnsley drawing at the point, a win today, no matter how ill deserved, would put us above the White Shite again.

Back to the fair minded turn taking in the second 45, Trinidadian striker Jones turned and shot but was denied by another outrageous Myhill save, while at the other end France fizzed a shot inches over the bar.

Michael Turner’s torrid week continued when he unwittingly headed the ball into the path of Jones who thankfully shot wide, though oddly a corner was awarded to Southampton. David Prutton came on for the visitors, having Kingston upon Hull on his birth certificate earned him some polite applause from the home stands and took the count of bearded players on the pitch to two (the other was Southampton’s Jesus-a like right back, which accounted for Elliott’s quiet display, he was awestruck). This was the first time a game had featured two bearded players since 1978 when the Bee Gees played for Havant and Waterlooville.

Ricketts was turned inside out by Skacel but the Czech’s shot was straight at proper Bo, but it wasn’t long before City’s defence imploded like they’d been threatening to do much of the half. Bale was allowed to just meander past several City players, then to lay the ball off to Skacel who picked out Rasiak on the edge of the six yard box, he has two zeds in his first name despite it being Gregor and now he had two goals despite the efforts of Coles and Turner, or perhaps because of them. 3-2 Southampton.

Elliott cannoned a shot against Ostlund’s hand, the crowd inevitably howled handball but it couldn’t possibly have been deliberate from point blank range.

A shove on Barmby started a melee in the centre circle which ended with a yellow card for sinning Saint Claus Lundekvam, this isn’t the type of fighting spirit we need to see from City. Livermore was ordered off the field because of head wound bleeding and he was replaced by John Welsh.

The low foreheaded Scouser clipped a shot just wide of the right upright, our best chance in some time, and this kid really should be playing more often. Parkinson doesn’t do himself any favours on that score.

Any chance of another comeback was pretty much extinguished on 82 minutes when the bunch of fadges that constitute our defence stood and watched Wright dink the ball to Wright-Phillips who, unmolested, steered the ball beyond Myhill for 4-2. The scoreboard operator sought to save time and listed the score as 5-2 before realising Southampton weren’t fussed about adding another and resetting it to 4-2.

The deep divisions between City fans over the fate of Phil Parkinson showed in the East Stand where two fans came close to blows as they argued their views on the manager. Entertaining in the short term, but depressingly indicative of how far this season has failed to live up to even modest expectations. Those divisions were evidenced again at the final whistle which was greeted first by boos and afterward by forced applause by those who want to remain supportive despite the predicament we find ourselves in.

Nine goals conceded in four days, our defence is doing Phil Parkinson no favours at all, he may have to make some drastic changes in personnel if he wants to remain manager of Hull City. He insists he won’t resign, and though he has enjoyed the support of his chairman so far you suspect Pearson will be taking another look at the projected figures of compensation for a sacked manager versus attendance and television revenue of League One football. The Tiger Nation and Adam Pearson are the judge and jury of the manager but with displays like these it’s the players who are taking on the role of executioner. (LM)