We sit smugly, snugly, in ninth position in the Championship. The trauma of last season is forgotten; the desperate grind of the campaign before a distant memory. We now truly look comfortable and prosperous at what has always been considered our natural level, and we are achieving results in games that would probably not have been manageable in the past two seasons.

Scunthorpe v Hull City is cup final day on the South Bank, and contending with this is never easy – never has been for a City side with only one victory at Glanford Park before. Showing the determination to close out a game against eager, yapping but ultimately limited opposition is yet another demonstration of the strides we are making. Ninth in the League. Cripes.

For Scunthorpe’s big day, Phil Brown elected to keep faith with the XI that crushed Preston at the Circle a fortnight before, Stephen McPhee keeping his place on the right despite the arrival of Richard Garcia back from Australia and the return of the fit-again Caleb Folan. It meant that under leaden Lincolnshire skies, the Tigers lined up: Myhill; Ricketts, TurnerBrown, Delaney; McPhee, Ashbee (c), Marney, Hughes; Windass, Campbell.

This meant we had a bench of Duke, Dawson, Garcia, Okocha, Folan: a quite remarkable array of talent unable to force its way into our starting eleven. Nigel Adkins, the amiable Scunthorpe physio-turned-manager, was able to bring back Matt Sparrow in for the banned Jim Goodwin, replaced Paterson with Forte and Williams for Cleveland Taylor.

In blustery conditions on a tired-looking greensward, City began kicking towards the Scunthorpe home end, and the anticipated onslaught from Scunthorpe absolutely failed to materialise as City completely dominated the opening exchanges. A handball was required to halt a Campbell charge, giving the Tigers a free-kick 25 yards from goal right in the centre of the field. Deano strode forward confidently to take it, and forced a good diving save from Joe Murphy as the ball curled towards to the bottom-left of the goal.

The corner was taken by Hughes, badly, but from the rebound City fashioned a shooting chance for Michael Turner. His effort was parried by Murphy but straight to Deano, who cracked the ball goalwards from an acute angle, too powerfully for the keeper, and it squeezed in to give City the lead after just three minutes.

From your humble scribe’s vantage point, it was actually uncertain that the ball had gone in – the glorified bus shelter that houses away support offers poor views even from the top of the stand, and it wasn’t until our hero wheeled away with his arm aloft that we knew for sure.

City could (should?) have doubled this lead a minute later when Campbell squirmed free of his marker and from twenty yards out crashed a volley that brought another smart intervention from Murphy to divert the ball over. Scunthorpe rallied, briefly, and a low shot from Hayes forced an alert save from Myhill. However, the balance of power was definitely with City and we finally doubled our lead after quarter of an hour.

A deep Delaney cross cleared the bewildered Scunthorpe defence and found the lurking McPhee, who instantly transferred the ball back into the centre where an unmarked Dean Windass nipped in before Murphy to head home from two yards. A lethally executed goal, the City fans rejoiced and a rout looked possible.

The home side, evidently aware of the potential for embarrassment, forced themselves onto the front foot and brought saves from Myhill from the elaborately coiffed (and suitably derided) Andy Crosby, and Kelly Youga (wearing gloves like a heem). The latter was puzzlingly spared a caution by the portly official Uriah Rennie for an obvious dive on Scunthorpe’s left flank – the offence punished with a free kick but not a yellow card. We shall return to this.

City’s stunning start had left the game a little flat, with the gulf in class between the sides painfully apparent. The home fans were quiet, as indeed were we. Midday kick-offs are an abomination and Humberside Police may wish to recall that they are a taxpayer-funded public service whose duty to the aforementioned ought to extend to offering them the courtesy of not violating footballing traditions for no good reason.

On with the football, which was becoming more even as City sat back to admire their own handiwork a little too contentedly, although a half-chance presented itself to the excellent Marney after a partially-cleared corner – however, he belted the ball over what passes for the home end.

Turner was cautioned for scything down Forte, and then City should have put the game out of sight when Marney burst forward in the middle of the pitch, knocked the ball wide of the onrushing Murphy, but was unable to catch up with it as it slid out for a goal-kick.

The final minutes of the half saw the first real pressure applied by the home side, and frustratingly this led to a goal as an uncommonly static City backline stood and watched Jonathan Forte race clear. His pace was too much for Wayne Brown and he knocked a shot past Myhill into the corner of the goal.

The home fans celebrated by dancing around to “Tom Hark”. Further comment here would be entirely superfluous.

A minute later Mr Rennie blew for half-time, and both sides trooped off to applause, although tinged with disappointment in the away end that our lead was just a single goal. Instead of enjoying a comfortable stroll to victory, we’d now have to endure the home side attempting to salvage a draw that’d feel like a win for them.

During the break the weather worsened further, with gales whipping around the ground and showers of cold, thin sleet falling from the wintry heavens. This would be almost typical of City to slip up to a crap team in a crap ground on a crap day; and as Scunthorpe piled forward at the start of the second half it was difficult not to feel a sense of foreboding.

However, the home side were creating very little with their territorial advantage and Boaz Myhill’s goal went largely unthreatened. Indeed, the most notable occurrence of this spell came when glove-wearing mincer Youga was booked for a lunging tackle – had Mr Rennie seen fit to issue a more appropriate sanction for his first half cheating, Scunthorpe would have been a man down.

Frustrated by their inability to create anything, Nigel Adkins brought off Williams for Paterson, but moments later City should have wrapped the game up when a Marney corner was flicked onto Deano a yard from goal. Despite there being no-one near him, our aging hero totally missed this open goal, mis-kicking and the ball was swept to safety. As the City fans looked on aghast, he returned our gaze and clearly mouthed “what the fuck…?” He was cheered anyway. It’s Deano, he can do no wrong.

Ashbee was having a solid game as City won the midfield battle, but he was cautioned midway through the half for an ungainly challenge on Cork. The resulting free-kick, taken by Hurst, appeared to be thudding wide, although a deflection off Michael Turner ensured this. Hughes lashed a shot narrowly over after picking up a loose ball twenty yards from goal, but he was unable to cap another decent performance with his first strike for City.

Perhaps with a Tuesday night fixture in mind, Deano was withdrawn for Richard Garcia, sauntering off to the customary adulation. McPhee moved up front as Garcia slotted in on the right-wing.

The match had deteriorated by this stage, with the weather, City’s obstinacy and Scunthorpe’s lack of edge robbing the game of any great incident. The home side brought off Hayes for Tomi Ameobi, but the side looking likelier to score were the Tigers as they repeated fashioned raids on the break, Dean Marney frequently the catalyst for these. However, we failed to capitalise on these, even though it was looking increasingly the case that a further goal would be unnecessary.

Caleb Folan came on for Campbell and ex-Scunt Dawson replaced the tiring McPhee as the game laboured towards its conclusion, and he had the ball in the Scunthorpe goal after being fed through by Marney, although he was several yards offside and it was disallowed.

The home side’s limitations were more evident than ever at this stage, reduced to merely humping long balls that swerved wildly in the howling gale, and were nervelessly thwarted by TurnerBrown. It was all a little too straightforward for the City defence, and although Mr Rennie conjured up a generous five minutes of injury time, we smoothly negotiated them and were able to return to Yorkshire with three points.

This was a professional, accomplished performance. The points were won courtesy of a blistering opening and the subsequently thoughtful protection of them. Two separate disciplines, both expertly carried out, too much for an enthusiastic but imaginative opposition whose winter is likely to be one of struggle as the novelty begins to wear off.

And now we sit ninth in the League; 29^th in the whole country, with a point – a mere point! – separating us from the play-off positions. Two winnable home games now present themselves, followed by a trip to a stricken Preston side, and when we’re playing like this there doesn’t look a side in the division we should fear. We are unquestionably a mid-table team, with realistic medium-term ambitions to become even more. Dare we dare to dream? (AD)