At the end of the A63, bear straight on to join the M62. After 26½ miles, exit at Junction 33 and take the fourth exit onto the A1. After 8 miles, this intermittently becomes the A1(M) – continue for another 49 miles before exiting onto the A66 at Scotch Corner. This is a single-track road for much of its distance, so be sure to pass slow-moving vehicles at the occasional double-carriageway sections. After 50 miles, merge onto the M6 and continue north for 18 miles. At Junction 43, turn left onto the A69 – this is Warwick Road. Continue for one more mile, and the ground is on your right. Congratulations: you have reached Carlisle United.

Taking the latest step towards such illustrious destinations as that were: Myhill; Ricketts, Coles, Delaney, Dawson; Fagan, Welsh, Livermore, Ashbee (c), Elliott; Barmby. Caretaker manager Phil Brown restoring John Welsh to the side (good), dropping Turner (good), putting Delaney at centre-half (better) and playing 4-5-1 (gah).

The match began at a pedestrian pace that would come to define the entire fixture. However, this was due to City keeping carefully keeping possession in midfield rather than wastefully pumping it up front to opposing defenders. However, there was precious little urgency to commit men forward, meaning that the game quickly became bogged down in midfield.

Plymouth had the first chance of the game when Djordic – whose cheating last season saw Marc Joseph dismissed at this venue – produced a smart save from Myhill from a free-kick. Nonetheless, the Tigers remained in a peculiar type of ascendancy, retaining possession without posing too great a threat, although it was nice to see a few passes being attempted. Fagan had a decent opening after bursting through the Plymouth defence, but poor control allowed McCormick to spring from his line and pouch the ball.

The game began to deteriorate somewhat, with City seemingly a little anxious that their studious approach play was getting them nowhere – little surprise with Barmby as the only outlet and Elliott and Fagan failing to get near enough to him – and Plymouth appeared to sense this, showing increasing willing to send midfielders forward to intrude upon the space Ashbee was patrolling in front of the back four.

The game’s untidy nature took a turn for the worse when Plymouth captain Paul Wotton was stretchered off ten minutes before half-time with a painful-looking knee injury. This prompted Ian Holloway to introduce youngster Dan Gosling to the game. However, it did appear to galvanise the home side, and they almost took the lead when Hayles sent a rasping shot towards goal that Myhill did well to save. Djordic then decided to demonstrate that antics last season were no one-off, an obvious dive on the edge of the area deceiving the referee into awarding the odious little cheat a free-kick. However, City repelled the danger and went in at the break level.

The second half started as slowly as the first, although City looked a little more measured in possession – again though, without posing much threat. Barmby managed to glide into space and was about to unleash a shot, but this was impressively closed down. Djordic was withdrawn in favour of Buzsaky, before Dawson required treatment for an injury.

As darkness fell over Home Park, Ricketts was called upon to intercede in a tussle in the City area that threatened to break the deadlock. However, with twenty minutes remaining and a goal-less draw increasingly likely, the match was settled by Sylvan Ebanks-Blake.

He collected the ball with his back to goal twenty yards out. Delaney was far too slow to react, giving him time to turn and send a low shot skimming past Myhill and in. Poor, slothful defending – neat work by Ebanks-Blake for sure, but giving a man sufficient time to complete a full turn and shot on the edge of your area just isn’t good enough.

With dismal predictability, this heralded music after a goal. Now, this observer has long held a sneaking regard for Plymouth, as a kind of southern version of ourselves – decent-sized club miles from anywhere, perennial underachievers yet possessors of a curious and proud tradition in spite (or maybe because) of this. Perhaps the world really is changing, for Plymouth have elected to forsake their heritage in pursuit of tacky practices such as this. Coupled with their repellent stewards barking at anyone who dared to stand (hardly an unnatural wish after a six-hour car journey), and it appears we have lost another club to the dark side. A pity.

Phil Brown elected to bring off Livermore and Elliott in favour of France and Elliott, a slightly puzzling move given Elliott’s decent efforts down the left and France’s, umm, unsuitability to dramatically change a game. The match was not for the turning and Plymouth looked the likelier to score - Summerfield sent a vicious shot from 25 yards just wide of Myhill’s goal, with the City keeper seemingly beaten. Stephen McPhee gained a generous hand from the hardy souls gathered in the away end when he came on for Sam Ricketts for his first appearance since his substitute’s appearance on this ground over fifteen months ago.

It didn’t make much of a difference however, although he did have a low shot from an impossible angle clumsily shoveled wide by McCormick. John Welsh hobbled off with a leg injury to leave City down to ten men for the final few minutes before Plymouth had a goal by Hayles disallowed for offside. This was to be the final act of a disappointing afternoon.

One wonders quite what to make of it all. There was no conspicuous shortage of endeavour following the Colchester disgrace and the Southampton capitulation. But neither was there the blood-and-thunder commitment to the cause that is required in a relegation dogfight. The football was okay – some good passing but not enough ambition. The defending was okay – mostly tight, then undone by one slack moment.

It sounds, well, okay. Except that it isn’t. This was a cheap, needless defeat against average opposition. We’re far too easy to beat, with clean sheets virtually unattainable at present. Goalscoring remains a problem, little surprise given the consistently unadventurous formations the previous manager and the present incumbent have insisted upon. The midfield is lesser than the sum of its parts – and we could go on, but it’s been remarked upon before and repetition will not make things any better.

But we look like a side that’s going down now. The defeats are continuing to rack up with no indication that an upturn in fortunes is just around the corner. It’s just possible to detect an air of resignation creeping in. After everything that went into restoring City to their natural level, it would be a crying shame to see us relegated without even putting up a decent fight. But, regrettably, positive signs are in desperately short supply and our prospects look increasingly bleak.

Directions to Gillingham, anyone? (AD)