Five minutes remained and still the deadlock was unbroken. After two severe hammerings at the hands of Sunderland and Manchester City, the time had come to be pragmatic and play safe. So, off came the adventurous Nick Barmby and on was slung Bryan Hughes.

 

Two minutes later, Aston Villa managed to force an own goal from the Tigers and the need for pragmatism had died. Craig Fagan was quickly urged on to the park. City forced set-pieces and hammered up long balls. Crikey, even Boaz Myhill went forward for the final corner.

 

And then ...

 

Urgh, it's hard to not dwell on the apparent injustice of a ref giving a penalty and then, er, not giving it after all ... but the point is that he was right, ultimately, not to give it. That he went about it in such a cack-handed, provocative, weak way is not really the issue, not for the sake of the result anyway. He will be carpeted by his bosses for choosing to give a decision he clearly wasn't able to make, but he will point to his willingness to take on advice from his team - and officials always harp on about the quartet of men with cards and whistles being a team - before changing his mind. That the correct decision was actually a corner (and he gave a goalkick) seems to have bypassed all the thinkers and apologists, and should also be added to the list of charges. "Yes Mr Bennett, we know it wasn't a penalty, but you didn't seem to know what it really was, did you?"

 

City lined up with a remarkably changed and reinvigorated side after the classless bit of death-by-football dished up at Manchester City. Out went Geovanni, Marlon King, Dean Marney, George Boateng and, least surprisingly of all, Dean Windass. The first two can feel unluckiest, though the Brazilian certainly has been less influential lately and probably just needed a lie down while someone waved a fan in his general direction. In came Richard Garcia, Daniel Cousin, Peter Halmosi, Nick Barmby and, with Bernard Mendy back in the midfield role where he causes more damage to others and less to us, Sam Ricketts. Garcia played centrally, while Villa's adoption of two non-fullbacks at fullback clearly was behind Phil Brown's plan of having natural widemen, playing wide, doing widey type things. Plus the most exciting sight in City colours right now is Bernard Mendy dementedly going at a defender with nobody - supporters, team-mates, defender, and especially Mendy himself - having a clue what he is going to end up doing.

 

Essentially, the game could be regarded as controversial at the beginning, controversial at the end, and intricate and intriguing in between. That it wasn't a classic is obvious, but it was engaging. Villa possess a lot of pace and a progressive midfield, so City simply cut out the supply line and used the extra man in midfield to squeeze out Villa's time on the ball. You could almost hear claret and blue pips squeaking, to borrow a political soundbite from the bad(der) old days.

 

The controversy at the beginning involved Barmby, light as a feather, somehow managing - according to Mr Bennett - to floor Brad Friedel, a mighty, powerful Yank goalkeeper who could do to Barmby what Spitting Image would have David Owen doing to david Steel. But, of course, staring with evil intentions at a goalkeeper is as wrong as all wrongnesses in the game, and Friedel got the free kick when Barmby challenged him to Cousin's high header with enough offputting endeavour to see the ball trundle into the net. A scandalous, wimpish but not unexpected decision.

 

At the other end, Ashley Young does Paul McShane with ease but Michael Turner completes his 1,458th headed clearance of 2008, then Gareth Barry volleys a right-footer over the bar. It's not a thriller from the Villa, this. They're compact and patient, but they don't like teams establishing their strengths and trying to nullify them. City are succeeding. Villa are annoyed and start doing things all green-booted Premier League teams do when they're annpoyed and cold and unworthy of their rabble-rouding opponents - they start falling over.

 

Young is the worst culprit, while Gabriel Agbonlahor, starved of serious service all evening, also embarks on a few repertory coronaries. That these players are supremely gifted young Englishmen makes it all the more disappointing. It's not a foreign trait any more. Brummies and Londoners are doing it. Thank goodness Dean Windass has never dived in his long career. Our city's clean and wholesome reputation is secure. Yes.

 

Halmosi aims a weak header at Friedel from Mendy's swerving cross, just after Ian Ashbee seemed to be fouled - without protest - as he shaped to meet Cousin's fine centre. The alicebanded Hungarian then stretches agonisingly not far enough after Mendy gleefully makes Luke Young look what he is - a good right back out of his depth on the left - and zips a low, unsaveable cross right the way through the six yard box and out again.

 

Cousin hovers underneath a startlingly accurate Ashbee cross, only for tabloid tagged "ex-pub player" Curtis Davies to get a brave head to it first and concede the corner. Villa have further half-chances through Barry and James Milner, but Boaz Myhill remains cold and inactive. Half time is level and goalless, but more than hopeful.

 

The rip-off of Crossbar Challenge at half time needs to be re-thought. Ten grand is up for grabs to anyone who can hit the bar with a ball from the halfway line. Trouble is, only people incapable of kicking the ball out of the centre circle were recruited. I think the money is going to stay safe if this remains club selection policy for the contest. Bring back that mime artist who used to frighten kids in the Well.

 

Back to the action, or inaction, if we're honest. the second half is a taut affair. City are better, but Villa seem to be an impeccable exercise in patience, waiting for the chance and knowing exactly when it will come. Still, while people chew the back of the seat in front of them as the night gets colder and the clock ticks further, it's the Tigers who still most likely to earn the first goal.

 

Garcia, mostly ineffective but certainly useful, heads a free one wide from Barmby's corner. Halmosi gets on to his largely sentimental right foot and scuffs a shot which Davies still chooses to block, despite the lack of power or direction making it less than perilous to Villa's net. Chances, not being taken. This is nerveracking. It's also thrillingly dramatic, without being dramatically thrilling. It's a game which, if a winner is to emerge, will be through either a stunning piece of outwitting, or an error. Hang on to your woolly hats - haven't you noticed how cold it is?

 

Still City press. They fancy it and Villa are giving them ample submissive reason to fancy it. Turner begins and ends a fine, idiosyncratic passing sequence involving Barmby, Mendy and Cousin, but the central defenders's shot is skied and sliced. Cousin is then withdrawn for King, whose immediate impact on Davies prompts the former tavern protagonist (that's the Independent's version of "ex pub player") to give away a corner in the most panic-ridden manner ever. Turner heads Halmosi's kick back across goal and Davies gets ahead of King to clear slightly more icily.

 

Ashbee, with a crushing and yet reassuring sense of inevitability, hawks a shot high, high over the bar after King had laid the chance off. Barmby chucks himself at a Ricketts centre and doesn't connect as meatily as he would desire, but still a defender feels the need to concede another corner.

 

Five minutes on and Hughes is introduced. City have slogged and strived, but no goal appears to be forthcoming. Hughes' introduction, greeted jeeringly by the visiting fans as they recalled his Birmingham City antecedence, is indication that City are ready to shut up shop and accept a point.

 

Then Ashley Young gets away from Ricketts, for the first and last time, gets a low early ball in which Kamil Zayatte, erratic but talented, swings a leg at with Agbonlahor finally sniffing the chance he's never had. The swing does Agbonlahor's job for him as the ball flies apologetically past Myhill and send the away fans utterly potty with relief as much as joy.

 

Despondent, City battle back but then the decision, indecision and non-decision of the refereeing team put paid to a final hope, in the 93rd minute, of an equaliser. Gutting. Annoying. Galling. But, somehow, enlightening also. If City play like this, especially at home, on enough occasions for the rest of the season then the slump which people now fear - a la Reading last season - won't happen. And three defeats in a row, two of which were of the crummiest kind, won't and should never tarnish the greatest year of our lives. (MR)