In a match that will live long in the memory of those fortunate enough to not only be present but also to hail from East Yorkshire, perhaps the moment that feature most prominently among a collection of satisfying recollections will be the occasion in the first half in which Jay Jay Okocha slipped free of his tormented marker in midfield, squirmed away from his second would-be dispossessor, slipped into the penalty area and required five Wolverhampton players to eventually remove the ball from him after more tricks and turns than the naked eye could register.

He did not score; nor did a team-mate. Wolves survived the moment, barely. Sometimes, just sometimes, moments of magic need not to lead to a goal for them to be worth travelling the country and forking out wads of cash to see. This was one such occasion, when the sight of our slippery magician evading countless challenges was met with thunderous acclaim and yes, actual gasps of wonder from a cynical world-weary bunch.

Jay Jay Okocha is a genius.

And of course, we won the game anyway.

Following the disappointment of Saturday’s draw with Stoke at the Circle, Phil Brown made a single change in personnel and a significant change in formation for the forbidding trip to Molineux, drafting in Okocha for Dean Windass and shuffling his troops into a 4-5-1 formation as we lined up: Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Delaney; Garcia, Marney, Ashbee, Okocha, Hughes; Folan. Accompanying our perma-tanned leader on the sidelines were Aspden, Dawson, Livermore, Windass and Bridges.

Ostensibly a 4-5-1 formation, but with Okocha given licence to flit around in front of the other four it meant City looked fluid and flexible rather than cautious and staid. Quickly it became apparent that this move had wrong-footed Wolves and their manager Mick McCarthy, as the Tigers instantly won the midfield battle – not merely as a consequence of numerical superiority, but on plain footballing ability.

City had the first chance of the evening when Wolves negligently allowed Okocha more than about four inches of space in the midfield, and he sprang forward before releasing a gorgeous pass to Hughes, who’d made a great run from deep to break free and head unattended towards goal. Unfortunately, his shot was the most disappointing aspect of this flashing raid, hit straight at Wayne Hennessey. His parry deflected out to Okocha, but his instant shot on goal was inadvertently headed over by Richard Garcia.

Nonetheless, a thrilling statement of intent, conjured up in an instant by two players who are a cut above the norm at this level. However, despite looking comfortable in midfield the Tigers saw moments of alarm at the back, when a breakaway on our left saw the menacing Kightly send over a terrific cross that was headed powerfully downwards by Keogh – happily, Myhill had worked his angles out well and was able to scramble the ball clear with his legs.

It was quickly becoming an open game, with both sides committing themselves properly to attacking. Wolves threaten next, when Ward’s looping header beat Myhill only for a superhuman bicycle kick from Ian Ashbee underneath his own crossbar to deny a certain goal – fantastic covering from our captain, having (another) of his better evenings.

The home fans were growing restless, the atmosphere inside the ground nothing like on our previous visits, and Ashbee was the next to try to break the deadlock when his shot took an ugly deflection and forced an alert change of direction from Hennessey to keep it out. Keogh than wasted a superb opportunity after being put into space on the City left, but his shot was hasty and unconvincing, and sailed merrily wide of Myhill’s left post.

Back came City, a devilish free-kick on the right from Okocha managing to clear everyone and whizzing wide uncomfortably near to the Wolves keeper’s left hand post.

Wolves were now fractionally in the ascendancy, but any thoughts they may have been entertaining of fully gaining the initiative were rudely interrupted when Okocha’s glorious, bewildering, jaw-dropping run  - described, but not justice to, above - forced half of their outfield to desperately intervene when one of the greatest goals in City history seemed possible.

Once again, Jay Jay Okocha is a genius.

The game entered a quiet spell as the half-time interval approached, and City’s flow was impeded when the willing Folan was unable to run off a foot injury and was withdrawn in favour of Dean Windass, whose only contribution before the break was to earn a stupid caution for gobbing off incessantly at the referee. The opening forty-five drew to a close with warm applause from the Tiger Nation, and a smattering of boos from the exasperated and impatient home fans.

One imagines that after this torpid display, Mick McCarthy will have had some uncompromising words for his charges. The consensus of many was that City would need weather a ten-minute flurry of activity to be certain of taking anything back north.

Within four minutes, we led.

Garcia was fed into space on the right, drove into the Wolverhampton penalty area and cut back inside, and was the grateful recipient of a witless lunge by Neil Collins, chopping away his legs. From this observer’s standpoint in Molineux’s dire away section, it looked an extremely generous decision, Garcia not offering the most robust resistance to the challenge. Subsequent viewings suggest that the lack of complaints from the home players do Garcia and referee Jones a disservice, and that the fury of the home fans was ill-directed.

Up stepped Windass, leftward went Hennessey, rightwards of him went Deano’s assured kick and the City fans jubilantly celebrated an unexpected but deserved lead.

McCarthy’s hasty reaction was a double substitution, Jay Bothroyd and Michael Gray replacing the poor Darren Ward and the unlucky Andy Keogh – it was something of a relief to see him withdrawn.

The pattern of play was all City though, and Wolves looked frantic. With an hour gone, a free-kick was won thirty yards from goal, which Okocha greedily eyed. His shot was powerful but seemingly bound for the upper section of the home end, before violently dipping and going just over the crossbar of the bemused Hennessey.

Did I mention that Jay Jay Okocha is a genius?

Dean Windass then limped off after an eventful twenty-five minute cameo that saw him collect a caution, a goal and a new injury of indeterminate severity – he was replaced by Michael Bridges as City sought to reintroduce the element of pace up front that had withered with exit of Folan.

Wolverhampton were slowly edging into the game though, more by luck than judgement. Their play was lazy and unthinking, with far too many long balls being ruthlessly dealt with by the TurnerBrown duo. They came close a couple of times however, a rasping Bothroyd drive forcing a superb flying save by Myhill, and the otherwise dire Freddy Eastwood sent a thumping shot against our netminder’s left post from distance – a brilliant effort that looked in from our side-on vantage point.

For the first time, City were rocking a bit and the home crowd finally found its voice, with Bothroyd having a great chance to equalise when he was put into space, but he lashed foolishly at the ball and it sailed gratifyingly over.

City were beginning to find increasing joy in the break however, with Bridges prepared to drop just into his own half to foil any attempts at playing him offside, and with Okocha’s immaculate control and sinuous way of defying would-be assailants, the Tigers were able to draw the sting out of the game with a few darts upfield and some thoughtful ball retention. Marney and Ashbee increasingly dropped back to provide cover for the back four, though with them in such determined mood this was more insurance then necessity.

The game moved on slowly, with the Tigers bristling with resolve and Wolves evidently accepting that they had been bested. A few anxious moments are caused by Delaney’s lack of instinct for left-back positioning gifting more space than looked comfortable, but all crosses from this area were dealt with capably with.

And then, the glittering presence of Okocha is ours to luxuriate in no longer, as Phil Brown opted for the sensible precaution of Livermore to shore up the midfield. He went off to a standing ovation that bordered on idolatry from the City fans, and such was his sparkling impact upon the game he was even afforded a very generous hand from the Wolverhampton supporters.

Apparently, they too recognise that Jay Jay Okocha is a genius.

Four minutes of injury time are announced, and though they raise momentary concern, this is a position we will not yield, and shortly after the referee ends the game to huge roars of delight from the gathered City fans.

We’re twelfth now. Heady heights compared to our Championship endeavours to date. For the first time since our return to the second tier, there is the sense that we may be beginning to put something together. Wolves are no mugs, a side filled with skill and experience, managed by a man whose achievements at this level are very impressive. One imagines that despite their indifferent start to the season, they will end it with more teams below them than above.

And we spent large periods of this game as their superiors. This wasn’t a streaky win. Of course, had the referee not spotted the foul on Garcia, or had Eastwood’s shot flown three inches to the left, or had Bothroyd been able to shoot with a modicum of competency, we might have been wondering how we didn’t take something from the match instead of celebrating the three points we did take. All ifs and buts – any away win requires such moments to be survived and good fortune to be capitalised upon.

All of those things we did. A resolute, coherent, purposeful side is beginning to emerge, at long last. A desperate fight against relegation is surely not for us this season. With a back four that looks tough to breach, a midfield increasingly sure of itself, forwards of genuine ability – let us not get carried away, but let us acknowledge that we are edging towards a side comfortable at this level, one of sufficient talent that it is worth paying to watch. And of course, there is the exhilarating, otherworldly Jay Jay Okocha – he’s ours, and he’s a genius. (AD)