At the business end of the season it is points ground out against limited but full blooded opposition that count in the promotion chase.  Mark Gretton reports on a decent point won in just such circumstances.

Close enough to smell it, if not quite close enough to taste it, we really are nearly there. Yesterday was not very pretty. In fact, we often struggled against a poor side who, following the current revivals at Carlisle and Macclesfield, will be looking over their shoulders for a few weeks yet at the yawning drop below. But we got a point, just the one, but I really think that that's all we need to do from here on in. Torky and Hudders are running out of games and I don't think they're both going to come past us. From this point on we can get 'em in singles. George Hirst and Wilfred Rhodes, Kirkheaton men and so, no doubt, Huddersfield Town fans, would nod in wry acknowledgment of this. Were they not long dead, of course.

But gritting their teeth and, for the most part, working hard with the just the occasional pinch of inspiration and more than a late smidgen of luck were:

Myhill
Marshall Hinds Delaney Thelwell
France Green Lewis Elliott
Allsop Burgess

It didn't last long like that. Kiddy had made the more purposeful start, but Greeny was just starting to get going and had whipped in a cross to the near post which netman Danby had been grateful to grasp in front of his face. From the clearance Marshall went in to challenge slightly half- heartedly and stayed down with a look of grimacing recognition that his afternoon was over. I don't think it was a bad challenge, certainly there were no recriminations from our players and indeed Marshall looked to be the one getting there late, but it did for him. We were subsequently told that he had fractured his 'fibia and tibia,' but this was obviously not the case, as there is no such bone as the fibia. (A nurse writes, 'As a nurse, I am often irritated when people refer to the fibia when they mean the fibULA, the smaller outer bone below the knee adjacent to the larger tibIA. I can best advise them to leave anatomy well alone unless they know what they are doing with it and feel sure that the orthopaedic surgeon charged with pinning and plating Marshall's leg would agree with that sentiment.')

If Marshall's injury is a serious as reported then it is a desperate blow for him but not, in all honesty, for us. He hasn't seemed to give us anything substantially better than we already have and it gave us a look at former Malet Lambert pupil Scott Wiseman, 18 years old and strutting proudly on to the field wearing the coveted Hull City number 31 shirt. Young Scott had an excellent afternoon, fulfilling the Taylorian virtues of a player being comfortable on the ball wherever he plays and the Grettonian virtues of being a right back who actually marks their left-sided wide man, covers his central defender when needed and makes tackles when necessary before getting rid of the ball without fannying about. You hardly have to be Viv Anderson to do that, but it's consistently been beyond anyone else who has played right back for us since Mike Edwards left. A very promising start and a day to remember for the lad.

Which was not the case for most of the fans. We were amusing ourselves with girth-related mirth at Jan Molby's expense and at saluting the great Kevin Francis, benign and gracious as ever, presumably in attendance in some form of expert summariser capacity but always willing to acknowledge the tiger faithful. Gotta love that man. There wasn't much happening on the pitch. Kiddy keeper Danby was having awful trouble with a strong breeze at his back, either hoofing it past Myhill at the far end or adjusting by failing to get it beyond the backline of his defence, to the amusement of the 1200 or so tigerfolk behind him. On one occasion a particularly desperate Danby clearance struck Allsop on the back, spun back high over the frantically back-pedalling keeper's head but held up in the breeze well enough for him to get back and clutch on to it.

And then we were behind. Green and Delaney seemed to leave a speculative ball to each other, no one reacted quickly enough to close down Brown who took one good touch and produced an even better left-footed finish from around the edge of the area with Boaz well beaten.

In truth, poor though Kiddy were, we were scarcely more convincing. But we roused ourselves slightly, although our efforts generated more heat than light, notably when after 30 minutes Allsop went down in their box. Right in front of us it looked like a case of the bumping and barging that strikers and defenders do in these circumstances, but Allsop thought he should have had a pen and their defence thought he'd dived, so much playground pushing resulted before the ref booked three seemingly at random, one of theirs and Allsop and France for us. A few minutes later we won a free kick on the edge of the area and Green curled one sweetly over and past the wall but sadly on to and then over the bar. Burgess then latched on to a loose ball but could only lash it with his less trusted right just over and then France found a good shot that Danby saved well after good Elliott and Burgess work.

If that makes it sound as though we subjected them to some pretty relentless pressure them you're being misled. It was all stuttering stuff against a poor side who nevertheless worried us every time they advanced. Lewis was tarting about in midfield, pouting and pointing whilst failing to do anything of merit. Judging by the grumbles of the faithful, it sounded as though Junior's honeymoon period is just about over. France was tidy but generally ineffective and Thelwell was as utterly unconvincing as ever. Kiddy ended the half swinging in two dangerous looking corners and we were grateful to get to the break just the one down.

Second half and it seemed that we were immediately more purposeful. Elliott flashed a free kick across goal and wide. Then Allsop got in a strong tackle, Elliott picked up the ball and crossed and Big Ben's presence at the far post was akin to a shark's fin amongst swimmers as he closed hungrily, only to be robbed by a very fine interception at the expense of a corner. But salvation was at hand, appropriately enough from the increasingly hard-working Elliott. We cleared a corner and the persevering God-botherer was first to harass their man in possession, putting in a sufficiently uncharitable challenge to rob the Kidster of the ball. He then hared off goalwards, outpacing most of their defence and all of our forwards as he charged at a slight diagonal to the right edge of their area. Just as it was looking as though he would have to do it all on his own he had the presence to look up, check inside and see that some one else WAS with him after all. It was Jesus! Well, no, it wasn't, although, you know, in a very real way, it was. But it was also Ben Burgess, who gratefully received Elliott's pass placed as neatly in front of him as glass of communion wine. Big Ben applied a suitably calm finish with his trusty staff, I mean left foot, and great was the rejoicing amongs the Lord's chosen people.

There was still around 25 minutes left, but we seemed to feel that our work was done. Lewis and France combined to set up Walters, on for Allsop, but Jon-boy's finishing is still not what it was and he put a fairly presentable chance over. Kiddy gradually gained more of the possession but seemed to have little idea of how to use it until one heart-stopping moment near the end. Another Thelwell missed challenge let in Williams who had time to look up, steady himself, produce a vanity mirror to check that this was looking as good to everyone else as it obviously was to him, lick his lips and place a precise curling shot past the despairing Boaz and....... on to the bar. 1200 people exhaled suddenly as the ball spun away to safety and we were away home and a point to the good.

As I said, we really are nearly there. Whether we will get there with our current manager seems a little bit more doubtful today than it has done. I haven't given the 'Taylor to Spurs' stories much credence, but suddenly yesterday we have Spurs fans wondering why their board has suddenly gone very quiet on who they are to appoint in the wake of a week when their two preferred targets, Trappatoni and Ranieri, are against expectations not going anywhere. And now we are told that Taylor may be part of a joint set up with veteran kerb-crawler David Pleat and the normally garrulous Taylor is suddenly not for talking.

If it's true, good luck to him. I doubt he'll get a better chance at the fools' gold of the premiership than the perpetual failures of White Hart Lane and he'd be daft not to take it. But I will, I confess, for the first time be sorry at the thought of his going. Over the last few games he's shuffled his depleted pack with some skill and coaxed the best performances of the season from the mercurial Green who has added industry to artistry. I think Taylor deserves some credit there. It may be that his role, like Moses with the Israelites, was to lead us to the promised land but then not to be here when we attained it. Captain Phil'll tell you more, I'm sure. But whether he stays or goes, I think we are going up. And there's always a bright side. He might very well take Lewis and Thelwell with him. And not even Moses did that.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Marshall, Hinds, Delaney, Thelwell; France, Green, Lewis, Elliott; Burgess, Allsopp.  Subs: Wiseman (for Marshall, 12), Walters (for Allsopp, 65), Forrester, Holt, Musselwhite.

Goals: Burgess 68

Booked: Allsopp, France, Green

Sent Off: None

KIDDERMINSTER HARRIERS: Danby, Hinton, Hatswell, Viveash, Stamps, Murray, Yates, Bennett, Brown, Williams, Clarke.  Subs: gadsby (for Bennett, 54), Foster (for Clarke, 82), Christiansen (for Brown, 85), Brock, Parrish.

Goals: Brown 22

Booked: Brown, Murray, Viveash, Yates

Sent Off: None

REFEREE: T Kettle

ATTENDANCE: 3,853