A jog in the sun ended with a thorough dismantling for the already promoted Tigers, the rather tidy looking Julian Joachim bagging himself a hattrick for relegation avoiding Walsall.  Shame to see a few City fringe players blow their chance to impress though.

In which we gradually fell apart. And didn’t look like we felt it mattered that much.

And it didn’t.

Myhill
Joseph Cort Delaney Dawson
Walters Junior Ashbee Elliott
Barmby Fagan

Andy Oakes keeps goal for Walsall nowadays and received a handsome round of applause from the City support. He appreciated it too. I like that sort of thing. A football club is nothing without the marble foundations of its past, although in our case it may be more mahogany-look chipboard than genuine marble. Jon Whitney wields the sponge for them – a key man in our history for two reasons, first, in his capacity as sturdy left-back stalwart (it sounds a bit 1950s! Younger readers should be advised that Jon Whitney was very 1950s) in our improbable Warren Joyce-led rescue mission and, second, in that, like the aforementioned Warren Joyce, he supplies an important ingredient of the answer to the question “name a Hull City team made up of players whose surname is a girl’s first name”. Whitney too was greeted with respect by the City support, and rightly so. I will always love you.

It was a pleasantly lively opening stretch, with the pattern of play balanced but the Promoted Tigs responsible for the only two efforts on target, a facile low shot from Ashbee readily pouched by Oakes and a much finer effort from a vicious Elliott left-foot toe-poke following excellent preparatory work by Barmby, well saved by Oakes. Walsall came even closer on 15 when Surman blatted a monster of a left-foot volley which Boaz did well to tip over. Even-stevens now, energetic play, both sides using width.

Coming up to the half-hour Walsall assume a modest superiority, but even so it’s a surprise when on 33 a move that is much sharper than anything we’ve witnessed all game sends them into the lead. The ball is whisked down their left, crossed low into the centre and Joachim has eluded the marking and is able to slide a shot low past Boaz from just outside the six-yard box.

If you felt pessimistically inclined you might have moped about how decent upper Division strikers are going to be able to exploit our fresh-faced centre-backs come next August. Your pessimism is misplaced, sir. Take no notice of what happens by the M6 in the soft April sunshine. We’re up, we’ve no need to keep an iron grip on downwardly mobile bantamweights like Joachim. I think the former Villa man knew this, and he abused it too. Still, the ease with which Marc Joseph was evaded earlier on in the attack gave no succour to the band of fans who view him as a worthwhile component of next season’s squad.

A band whose numbers have since November been comprised solely of people named Joseph, though even so its numbers have dwindled sharply as the season has progressed.

It gets a bit messy now. Joachim releases Standing into space who should do better than shoot straight into the Myhill gut. Then Joachim turns Dawson, feeds Surman … the Walsall man misses horribly but (as you have spotted) Julian Joachim is playing better than most have against us this season.

We’re not giving up. On 39 a Barmby free-kick from the left lands on Junior’s head but he wafts at the ball unconvincingly and diverts it well wide of the far post. But by this stage the play has got unusually fractious, largely as a result of an incendiarily daft series of decisions by snottily arrogant whistler Messias, and petty squabbles are breaking out all over the pitch. Fagan has caught the evil eye of the referee and has a right to feel aggrieved by his tawdry treatment. But – bottom line – the ref’s in charge and he can hurt you more than you can hurt him. Fagan has been a model of composed good sense since he joined us but now he’s lost his concentration. He gets booked, he doesn’t shut his gob and then he promptly gets hauled off by Mr Taylor, who throws on Kevin Ellison.

On the way home I mused that Mr Taylor would doubtless slide a comforting arm round the Fagan shoulder and tell him not to worry, calm down and set his sights on August, but I am no more than a tyro, and avuncular Martin Batchelor, who remembers more Doctors Who than me and still displays astonishment that you can get colour tellies, wisely noted that he’s not sure that’s how Mr Taylor goes about his business. “You’re a bloody idiot Craig, and I won’t stand for it. Think on about how I dealt with Keane and shape up or else you’re off back to Colchester” might be closer to the message delivered to the errant Brummie.

On 45 Walters slams a volley straight at the safe hands of Oakes, and then, a minute into the added, Ellison cuts in confidently from the left and tumbles to the turf as he collides with a defender – penalty claimed, penalty denied. Ref gets it right.

Into the second half. It starts quietly. Wright blasts over our bar after we are opened up down the middle, but this looks more like an isolated flamboyance than a sign that the home side are ready to talk control. But they are, and they do. Ellison wins the ball and then tries to move the ball out of defence down the left, but loses possession. That’s poor, but the ball is then moved square across the pitch without any of our team getting close enough to make a challenge. Now, that is really poor. A shot, a big deflection, the loose ball runs kindly for Joachim, and he thrashes a low shot through Myhill’s legs. Our keeper looks a shade humble, as well he might for the shot, though firmly struck, was right at him and could have been stopped, but blame should be shared. We looked tentative in the tackle across the whole pitch and this was a rotten goal to concede.

The manager’s response is immediate. Ashbee off, Hessenthaler on. Well, all fine and dandy, we needed a change., but Walters looks desperately lightweight, Ellison is playing wide left while Elliott is playing up front (wrong way round surely?) and Junior looks ordinary (at best), so not for a moment did I believe this alteration could save the afternoon. Nor did it. On 63 Junior misses a tackle criminally in the box and the ball is stroked into the path of Surman, who blazes wastefully over the bar. More surgery. Walters off, Wilbraham on. Elliott goes left-side, Ellison up front. It’s not helping. Joachim outstrips Cort – I’ll run through that moment again, it’s months since we’ve seen the like: Cort really is left looking second best – but the pass to Standing is helpfully hoisted miles over the bar by the wasteful Wall.

We’re playing badly, and we’re entitled to, a week after securing a second straight promotion. I shall excuse Myhill his grotesque fresh-air shot, as he spectactularly misses a through ball and allows Joachim to produce a superbly crafted finish from a very narrow angle to complete an impressive hat-trick. I shall not excuse the tens of Hull City “fans” who took this, fully twenty-five minutes from the final whistle, as their cue to flounce out. Ungrateful repulsive scum. Our team has earned the right to respect this season (and last). But one beating, a mere week after promotion back up to the serious reaches of English football has been secured, and these soft-minded fools and knaves are away home, “footie” cast aside in favour of a chance to pick up the shopping and watch the snooker. I hate you people, you do not deserve to share our current glory. Please, Mr Pearson, stick an extra twenty quid on the price of a pass and employ a sentry to take photographic evidence of these slack-jawed idiots. And ban ‘em all. They shame our club every bit as much as the pitch-invader and the coin-thrower.

Joachim is subbed and is warmly applauded by the City support is a very “well done son, but we’re up and we’re not bothered really” sort of a way. As for the Tigs, well, we’re soundly gubbed. It could be worse than 3-0. Myhill saves, Joseph blocks, Myhill saves again – all in the space of ten seconds. We’re shapeless, we’re leaderless, and we could have shipped four or five goals in this rank second half

Enough. We lacked authority in midfield, played with little flair or conviction up front where supply was anyway woefully wanting and defended like a bunch of tarts, with only Delaney even remotely close to his normal level of performance. It doesn’t matter! Well, it doesn’t – not to me anyway. The title’s gone – don’t care, though Mr Pearson will reflect with some rue on the lost extra prize money. Jon Walters is unlikely to play again in a City shirt after this failure to grab his chance to impress – I can live with that. Games left over after promotion is confirmed are always a bit of an anti-climax, certainly in the Hull City history book. I hope we get stuck in next Saturday and roast Wednesday’s promotion ambitions, but it’s no big deal. The first 43 games of this season are what count. We did everything we could sensibly have hoped for, and a great deal more.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Joseph, Cort, Delaney, Dawson; Walters, Ashbee, Lewis, Elliott; Fagan, Barmby.  Subs: Ellison (for Fagan, 40), Hessenthaler (for Ashbee, 56), Wilbraham (for Walters, 64), Stockdale, Duke.

Goals: None

Booked: Dawson

Sent Off: None

WALSALL: Oakes, Pead, Gerrard, Roper, Perpetuini, Wright, Standing, Osborn, Surman, Wrack, Joachim.  Subs: Fryatt (for Joachim, 81), Emblen, Leitao, Taylor, Murphy.

Goals: Joachim 34, 53, 68

Booked: None

Sent Off: None

REFEREE: M Messias

ATTENDANCE: 7,958