So having done the mathematical necessities against Burnley last week, and just about put them down, today was a chance to move away from that bloody 13th place that we seemed to have been stuck in for weeks.

With the game being in Hull (no surprise there) we had the chance to go down the A19, which afforded a different landscape to that we usually see on the A1. The weather helped as well, and we thought we’d be struggling to find hospitality in Beverley at half ten. No need to worry, as the Tourist information, with whom we’d booked our two coaches into town, had neglected to tell us that the coach park was no more. So, half a hour of shunting around town, then a couple in the Dog and Duck followed by a couple in Nellie’s (by gaslight), where the craic was as good as the beer. At £1.50 a pint, you couldn’t fall off – they even had a tattoo studio in the yard. So we enjoyed the weather, the beer, and picked up a natty red’n’white chef’s hat for £2.50, and into Hull before two. That meant there was time for a swift one in the Walton Club, despite John doing his ankle on a carefully placed piece of rubble (probably from Beverley) in the car park.

What with injuries and us being safe, there were no chances taken by the Brucester.
Gordon
Hutton Kilgallon Turner Richardson
Campbell Henderson Meyler Malbranque
Bent Jones

On paper, well better than the home side, and so it proved. There were a couple of chances from Steed and Hendo that didn’t come to fruition, then in came Jones with a great header across goal for Bent to hook home after only seven minutes. The home crowd were giving Campbell a bit of stick as we pressed, but it was Gordon who showed next with an instinctive save, then again from Folan down to his left. Folan the proceded to haul Hutton to the ground before Turner tripped their man – or did he throw himself at the leg? You watch the telly, you decide. Thankfully, Bullard’s effort hit the post and also looked covered by Gordon

Meyler was strangely booked for being shoulder-charged off the ball when he looked to be the wronged party, and we wondered who the ref would book next. As the half died away, Altidore barged Hutton, Hutton barged him back then bounced the ball off the Hull man in fairly humorous fashion. What followed was a daft shove by Altidore, a headbutt by the same man, and two reds. How is a headbutt deemed no more violent than a daft bounce of the ball? Our man ends up with a bashed nose and half a tooth missing, and gets punished just as much at the bloke who had a ball bounced (rather gently, watch the telly and decide) off his head.

The second half, ten a side, saw Ferdy on for Turner when we’d expected Meyler to be the one to be taken out of the line of fire, and Bardsley for Steed. it was the sort of game that Phil loves, with his task being simply to get the ball out of defence. Hull were allowed a lot of the ball, but when two of their team struggle to stand up with a football at their feet, you can allow them as much possession as you like – they’ll do bugger all with it. On 60, Jones made way for Cana – who loved it. Hoof it, head it, tackle it, even have a decent shot, it was a game made for Lorik. Despite Brucie being sent to the stands, presumably for telling the ref that he was possibly the worst official he’d ever seen (he’s certainly up there with Trelford Mills in my list of all-time numpties), he managed to get his tactics across, which saw Hull favourite (not) Campbell alternate between partnering Bent and filling in on the right of midfield as we sat back and let Hull run out of puff.

Hull tried with a few substitutions, including the ageing Boateng, but there was no sign of danger from them. Basically, we let them have the ball and either nick it off them near the edge of the box, or (more often) simply watched them make an arse of it. With all the experience on the field, it was again impressive stuff from the young central midfield of Henderson and Meyler who drove us – despite both being booked in the first half. Everything Hull tried came through Bullard, and our young’uns quietly (well, not that quietly) shepherded Ugly Jim into positions from which he could do the least damage.

A well worked win, albeit against a really awful side (who even though they could run with the ball from a free kick), but the three points will do. The home fans stayed with their ragbag bunch of shite to the bitter end, letting us know that “this is the best/worst trip they’d ever been on” and credit to them. Results mean that it’s almost certain to be Boleyn rather than KC next season, and that’s our wallets that will be tested with the longer trip. I’ll miss Hull, because today I had the benefit of a seat right in front of a pillar, meaning that I could stand without hassle to myself or anyone behind me for the full 90 minutes, and because of the great pubs in Beverley. Oh, and the new lucky hat.

Man of the Match? Close thing, but our engine room showed class and restraint in the face of refereeing of the highest ineptitude, so I’ll give it to Meyler.

Keep the Faith

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