No-one said it’d be easy – and the past week has been about as hard as you can get at this rarefied level. A trip to West Brom, title favourites and everyone’s nomination for the Championship’s best team, yielded a priceless three points. Seven days later, and a trip to a side that now have a legitimate claim of their own to be this division’s premier outfit, saw us return home with nothing. Which was a little harsh. Here’s why:

Denied the services of Michael Turner to the ruling that insists five cautions mean a suspension, Phil Brown elected to slot West Brom loanee Neil Clement at centre-half alongside Wayne Brown. Okocha made way for Marney, Campbell and Folan continued up front with Deano unavailable, and the Tigers lined up: Myhill; Ricketts, Brown, Clement, Dawson; Garcia, Ashbee (c), Marney, Pedersen; Folan, Campbell.

We should have led after a minute. Some glittering interplay in the midfield saw Folan presented with a marvellous opportunity to sidefoot the ball home from about ten yards…and as we filled our lungs ready to bellow Ashton Gate down, the ball somehow evaded him.

Permit some excuse making for the somewhat sketchy nature of those observations – Bristol City’s away end is somewhat basic, lacking in such basic amenities as an unobstructed view and backs to seats, which at least made for plenty of standing. The rake was poor, and events in the far half of the pitch were troublesome to discern throughout. Nonetheless, it was apparent that Folan had blown a glorious chance. We weren’t waiting to be punished for long.

There was a genuine hint of Spring in the West Country air, that indefinable sensation that means nerve-shredding run-ins are commencing, the return of cricket, the re-opening of beer gardens. All very agreeable – yet a swirling wind accompanied it, making for a tricky drive south (crossing the Ouse bridge requiring particularly intensive concentration), and the blustery conditions were enough to flummox Neil Clement when attempting to deal with a high ball.

He wholly failed to cut out the danger, allowing Dele Adebola to barge through and smack the ball past the badly isolated Myhill. A cracking finish, though it hardly needs to be said that he should never have been given the chance.

Falling behind is not exactly uncommon for City these days, and this setback was dealt with in the same unruffled manner as we are becoming accustomed to seeing. The Tigers saw more of the ball, looked sharper with it – yet Bristol are not top for nothing, and the steely determination that saw ten of them smuggle a point out of the Circle is evidently a characteristic deeply ingrained in them by their superb manager. We were thus able to create very little of serious note in the final third.

The match continued in roughly this pattern throughout the first half. Bristol arguably looked the likelier to score, with Brown and Clement’s hesitancy ensuring that Michael Turner was keenly pined after. In the midfield, we worked hard but found penetration difficult. Then, just as the interval approached, we scored.

Another move was well crafted down the left involving Henrik Pedersen, and eventually the ball was squared to the unmarked Ashbee. He swung wildly at it, missing his kick altogether, but had the speed to retrieve possession and deliver it back in – and suddenly, the City players were wheeling away in delight. It took a brief moment to deduce the sequence of events as celebrations took place in the claustrophobic away end, but an own goal was the logical outcome.

At half-time, most considered that the game was there for the taking. City had reacted strongly to falling behind, and parity was certainly merited. We had played open, positive football, so was a repeat of West Brom on the cards.

No; we fell behind after a minute of the second half. It was again difficult to invest much certainty into interpretations at the far end, but we saw clearly the ball fly into our goal after what almost looked like a bicycle kick from the inadequate of yesteryear Jamie McCombe. Crumbs.

This deflated us badly, and the match settled into the frustrating pattern of before – lots of ball, not much happening with it. Bristol looked sporadically threatening but clearly had faith in their ability to defend their second lead of the match, and while we huffed and puffed, it didn’t look like our day.

Okocha and France came on, the game trudged wearily on, the home fans began to celebrate, and a few resigned looks manifested themselves among the thousand-strong Tiger Nation.

Yet…we should have gone home with a point when in injury time City carved Bristol open down the right, Folan dragged the ball back to Campbell, whose shot smashed into the post and flew to safety. A heart-stopping moment, the home fans briefly stunned into horrified silence, we into paroxysms of despair. Moments later, it was finished, and while there were to be no repeats of the Hawthorns party, the players were afforded a genuinely warm hand at the end.

A setback, then. But not a fatal one. Defeat at the league leaders, as we must now called Bristol City, is disappointing but scarcely critical. And it was in some regards an unfortunate defeat – two instances of poor defending to their one, and the width of a post separating us from a draw. A point apiece could not have been called particularly unjust by those of a rustic persuasion on Saturday. But you have to take your chances and deny them to your opposition – Bristol have seemingly been doing that all season, so we can hardly call it a fluke. Phil Brown has wished them well, and so should we.

As for City, we will return. Two home games present themselves – Burnley on Tuesday, Scunthorpe on Saturday. The former now lie a place above us, and the importance of that game is obvious. The visit of ailing Scunthorpe for their cup final can only be regarded as a game we need to win. The frantic month of March begins poorly, but offers immediate hope for a return to form. (AD)