A rather cagey City long ball performance sees League One minnows Doncaster finally score a win over the might Tigers.

Some games pass you by. Not a lot happens. We get a draw on a good day and, if not, we lose to opponents who don’t impress you much but are just about worth the points.

You move on, and you draw comfort from the fact that football’s normally a lot more fun than this.

Bad games happen.

But why do they happen ever time we go to grimy, scowling, dilapidated Doncaster?

Myhill
Hinds Cort Delaney Dawson
France Ashbee Keane Ellison
Barmby Facey

I’d like to say that noses were being thumbed at every know-all smart arse who was full of how Mr Taylor would play Junior just to show who’s boss, but it seemed to me that other bodily parts were being more assiduously adjusted as Doncaster sent out a most winsome troupe of young ladies, wearing few clothes and fewer signs of shame as they brandished what seemed to be a plasticine model of last year’s Fourth Division championship trophy. Undignfied stuff, I fear, but their legs were just as nice as I recall those of 17 year old girls to be, although, on a chill afternoon, distinctly bluer.

The game started, and the temperature sank precipitously. Oo, it was poor. Barmby showed a spark of vision here and there, but for the first time this season the firm impression was that Mr Taylor had sent us out to collect a point. The back four kept its shape, the midfield suffocated stubbornly. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t ambitious, but it was … umm, well, it was turgid.

Half an hour came and went, and Donny began to get visibly on top. On 34 Dawson carelessly missed the ball, which was deftly switched from their right to the back post where Roberts, arriving unmarked, should have done better than bundle his shot wide of the post and into the side netting. A few minutes later the first decent passing move of the game deposits Dawson on his backside and open us up through the centre but as Delaney hurtles in with a saving block we are saved by a frankly generous offside flag. Next up, a corner, a brave clearing header by France.

I haven’t mentioned our rippling attacking flashes, have I? Not sure we do them without Elliott in the side, not away from home anyway. We’ve scarcely got out of our half during the final fifteen minutes of the first period and we were ungainly and tepid before that. It’s poor fare and the consolation is that we’re not behind.

Better? Yes, and quickly. The second half opens with a rush as both sides take turns to scoot forwards, but no attempts on goal are generated, and, it gives me no pleasure to report, the game lapses back quickly into a passionless and largely aimless affair. Doncaster looked better than us at the Circle in December and they look better than us now, but the quality of the play has taken a nosedive in the intervening weeks.

Facey strays well offside and is rightly flagged as Barmby tries to beat the trap by flicking the ball forward and chasing it himself. Barmby’s frustrated and howls abuse at the referee, presumably arguing that Facey is not active and therefore shouldn’t count. But as Bill Shankly put it “if he’s not active, football’s not a matter of life and death”. Wise words, I’ve always felt. Referee Beeby agrees and books the aggrieved Barmby.

It’s a rotten game and it’s about to get worse. A messy passage of play in our box cries out for a good solid clearing hoof but before you can mutter “Whittle, Row Z” the ball is slipped wide to McIndoe and he crashes a left foot shot across the face of our goal and inside the far side netting. 1-0, fine finish, and on the balance of play well enough deserved.

No, I don't want Justin back. But I liked him and I admired him. And there are bits of his game that remain timeless. His versatility, for example. Sometimes it wasn't Row Z. He did Row Y too. Every one a winner.

Facey’s had an ineffective shocker and comes off for Alsop. Keane has stood small at the near post while Doncaster take corners but appears otherwise to have contrived to avoid influencing the afternoon’s football match even indirectly and he’s no loss: Green time.

Doncaster retain dominance. It’s no fun, this. Comedy bad guy Ryan, the left back, is trying to wind us up, but with a roofless away end and, on the terraces, opponents for whom this fixture obviously means ten times more than it does to us, there’s a sullen passivity among the City support. Some Saturdays, it just doesn’t happen. The third substitution sees Barmby pulled off in favour of Price but moments later we’re reduced to ten men. Ashbee hasn’t been particularly influential but at least he’s got stuck into as many tackles as his teammates combined. Ashbee’s rather ill-targeted style of lunge unfortunately means that a high tackle count generates a high foul count. He’s got one softish yellow already, so a blatant bodycheck right in front of the referee is really not the smartest move – especially given that the incident is close to the halfway line where Doncaster are not about to spring a serious threat on our goal. Still, handy for the tunnel, and Ashbee’s off down it sharpish.

Fifteen minutes left, ten men left, and mercifully we start to play some intelligent and attacking football. Just before the sending-off a Price cross has been flashed just over the bar by Green, and all three substitutes show a markedly higher degree of energy than had been on offer before their arrival. Myhill’s forced into action as he pushes a powerful shot round his right-hand post, but thereafter we shove the play right up into the home side’s half. And on 83 the opportunity to pinch a point greets us with a grin. Price does extremely well to beat his man wide on the right, surges into the box and calmly slides the ball back into Alssop’s path. He shoots first time and sees his effort beaten away by Warrington, but the loose ball bounces kindly straight into Ellison’s path, jumping eagerly on to the left foot of our naturally left footed acquisition. Keeper’s on the floor, defence is spreadeagled, he’s ten yards out at most and the goal is yawning.

He smears it horribly high over the bar.

Telling you that “Elliott would have buried it” helps no one at all.

He would have, though.

And yesterday Ellison looked well worth any of the digits in his transfer fee of £100,000 with the exception of the 1.

There are four minutes added on at the end of the 90 and, showing creditable if belated determination, we carve out another couple of decent chances. France chips the ball cleverly across the face of the box to where Green, steaming in on the shot, smashes his effort against a fortunate intervening defensive back. And then, in the final seconds, a shot is deflected into Green’s path, allowing him an unhindered attempt to volley an awkward dropping ball – he sets himself well but the shot sears a couple feet too high.

A bit of luck and, more pertinently, superior finishing late on would have given us a draw. A bit more ambition and some more combative or at least competent performances from (in particular) Dawson, Keane, Ellison and Facey might have given us more. But overall Doncaster deserved the points. I do remember the last time we played well at Doncaster – a snowy afternoon when we won 2-1 – but that’s twenty years ago now, and we’ve served up some pallid efforts since then. Yesterday? Another one to forget at the spectacularly ill-named Belle Vue.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Hinds, Cort, Delaney, Dawson; France, Ashbee, Keane, Ellison; Barmby, Facey.  Subs: Green (for Keane, 61), Allsopp (for Facey, 61), Price (for Barmby, 70), Duke, Lewis.

Goals: None

Booked: Ashbee, Barmby, Delaney, Keane

Sent Off: Ashbee

DONCASTER ROVERS: Warrington, Mulligan, Ryan, Foster, Beech, McSporran, Doolan, Green, McIndoe, Roberts, Blundell.  Subs: Johnson (for Blundell, 89), Cockerham, Priet, Rigoglioso, Coppinger.

Goals: McIndoe 59

Booked: Blundell, Doolan

Sent Off: None

REFEREE: R Beeby

ATTENDANCE: 9,633