The season's opener finds the Tigers in good form after a shaky first twenty minutes against slick ex-Prem opposition.  In the end the brute strength of John Hartson and some really crassly poor decisions by the homer referee saw the Baggies claim a deserved victory.

Losing a game of football to a team managed by Bryan Robson is like being slogged for six by a Number Eleven batsman, getting hammered by Stevie Wonder at darts or being told you write "almost like a proper journalist". It grievously wounds the self-respect. And yet we shouldn't be downcast. The woolly-brained Mr Robson had little to do with this victory - the recognisable shape of the Premiership side he got relegated coupled to the disgraceful partisan performance of referee Probert were enough to allow West Brom to collect all three points. We deserved one. On this evidence we'll do just fine this season under our new manager.

Mr Parkinson selected a sturdy-looking 4-4-2:

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Delaney Dawson
Fagan Marney Welsh Elliott
Duffy Parkin

And the first ten or so minutes were utterly terrifying. West Brom opened their season with pace, direct running and generous enthusiasm and our astonished team tottered as tidal waves of attacking broke over it. Greening blazed his way down the right mercilessly; on 10, on a swift move allowed the home side to isolate Ricketts on the back post confronted by two opponents, and a header was pushed acrobatically on to a post by the valiant Myhill; then Turner was exposed and a cross from the left wing reached Zoltan Gera in space near the penalty box, but he side-footed the ball carelessly high into the stand. You can never have too many players named Zoltan in a football team, in my estimation. Our best hope of containing this relentless assault lay in the person of John Hartson, portly has-been whose poor touch and general flabbiness slowed down the velocity of West Brom's attacking whenever the ball came near him, but even Fatman Hartson joined in the mayhem on 19 as he outjumped and outmuscled Jon Parkin to head a cross just over the bar. More about our own overweight frontman follows, and it won't be pretty.

We were showing them too much respect! Don't sit back City! Thankfully such platitudes were not on the lips of the giant and boisterous travelling support, at least not in the section in which I was (occasionally) seated. Truth is, we were getting caned by a powerful side, and as far as I can see everyone was realistic about what we could legitimately expect from a visit to a team like West Brom, floating on a financial parachute far more lucrative than the resources on which Mr Pearson can currently call. Nigel Quashie, Curtis Davies, Ronnie Wallwork, Nathan Ellington, the above-mentioned Greening and Gera: these are all experienced players who would not be out of place in the lower reaches of the top Division and such a squad should certainly be strong enough to finish top 6 at this lower level, although Captain Marvel's management will likely undermine that aspiration unless they boot him out sooner rather than later.

Twenty minutes in, and we're gasping for air.

But we're not losing. And we start to bring the game into balance. In fact, we almost manage better than that. On 25 Marney, a hard-running and very promising type, breaks into the box but screws a disappointing effort well wide of the post. We've got a team too, though it wasn't easy to spot it during the oppression of the opening minutes.

On 28, Mr Parkinson, an admirably agitated figure on the touchline, decides he's seen enough of Gera and Greening's ability to make use of space down our left flank, and hauls off Stuart Elliott in favour of Ryan France. It's a dramatic moment, and must count as a severe reprimand to Elliott's unwillingness or inability to drop deeper and make life more awkward for the rampaging Baggie widemen, but, for sure, it reveals Mr Parkinson as a manager unafraid to take decisive action if things are not shaping up to his taste.

We're in the game now. The inclusion of France's solidity has helped but generally West Brom are in need of a breather after their tornado start. And we take advantage. I am already enjoying both Welsh and Marney in midfield: they make a good pairing and while it may be premature to begin to think of comparisons with the finest City central midfield duo of the last couple of generations, Paul Moss and Mick Tait (umm, or possibly Garry Parker and Billy Askew), there's plenty to look forward to in the development of these two young and highly skilled performers. A free-kick leads to a Delaney shot - a couple of minutes later Marney shoots too - both on target, both securely pouched by Swiss World Cup Torhueter Pascal Zuberbuhler (who, I trust, has a brother named Zoltan). This game is shaping up nicely for us now. A melee in our box on 38, West Brom shoot wide; a sweet move on 43 and Marney's shot is well held by Zubi and it's half-time, and, wonder of wonders, the scoreboard's blank.

We've squirreled away a fair few slices of fortune in that first half, but we've also shown a commendable degree of resilience. More than that, we've taken the game to West Brom as the half has progressed, with Marney most prominent in that combative role. Well done, City.

Into the second half. Tasty start. Ricketts powers down the right and, with Zuberbuhler bewildered, his swerving firmly-struck cross strikes the near post and crashes out into the path of Marney, but as he closes in for the kill West Brom scramble the ball away from danger. A couple of minutes later Duffy is involved in a smooth and incisive build-up, Turner rises at the back-post to head the ball square back across the face of goal, and Duffy heads over the top.

We're playing impressively, and then we lose a goal.

Hartson turns, fouls his man (Delaney, I think), is allowed to bungle his way forward into space by fool of a referee Probert and then he (admittedly deftly) lifts the ball up and over Myhill and into the vacant net.

There's tangible sense of relief around The Hawthorns. West Brom traditionally possess a loud and supportive crowd, but they've not impressed us at all this afternoon. Sated on Premiership cream, they've sat back and expected their team to demolish these threadbare visitors. Who are Hull anyway? Hartson fed their arrogance further with this frustratingly illegal and profoundly undeserved goal. Still, credit to West Brom for offering a chance of rehabilitation to a man spurned by the game he loves. Ron Atkinson, for it is he, has been allowed a column in the programme, and a stirring tribute to Hull's favourite son William Wilberforce it is not.

We almost equalise straight away. A long ball forward, West Brom's defence still mentally slapping palms to celebrate Hartson's larceny, Duffy is clear. His control is superb but his shot isn't. It flies wide. It's the sort of chance top-class strikers devour with relish, but don't give up on Darryl Duffy, a pacy eager player of great promise.

Burgess replaces Parkin, and then Andrews comes on for Duffy, cramping and writhing in pain, so Fagan goes up front to accompany Burgess, while Marney moves to the right. We're the better side - comfortably. But West Brom pull the majority of their players grimly back behind the ball, and making chances against a well-organised uncompromising side like this is another thing again. And we're not quite up to it. A free-kick on 80, just outside the box, is wasted, before, on 89, the key moment of the whole game arrives.

It all happens in front of the baying City support. We attack down the right. Welsh makes an excellent alert run to the back post. The ball reaches him. He's about to turn it into the net. He's crudely hauled to the turf by Inamoto. It's a blatant penalty. It's not given.

What can you say? Welsh says plenty, enough to earn him an entry in referee Probert's fussy notebook. A solo City fan tumbles unhelpfully on to the pitch and, restrained by Fagan, is then quelled by a pack of stewards, dragged away wriggling like a landed deepwater cod. And the rest of us fume, wail, gnash - that horribly familiar football feeling of being royally cheated.

That's it, sad to say - our chance gone. West Brom are awarded a generous free-kick in midfield and with our players scattered out of position the ball is moved swiftly from right to left and Hartson slides home a second goal past the defenceless Myhill. We didn't deserve to lose by two: we didn't deserve to lose at all.

Positives? Well, plenty, though let me get the one big negative out of the way. Jon Parkin. The negative is precisely that - he is too big. The Beast ran out of petrol some time in the middle of last April and we assumed that he'd found the step up from Division 4 to Division 2 to be more physically demanding than expected. A stern pre-season and he'll be fit and ready to lead our attack for the new season. Well, he isn't. He's overweight, he's lumbering around and he's not mobile. He scarcely troubled West Brom's defence yesterday and poor Duffy had to do the running of two men to compensate - no wonder the Scot limped off, tortured by cramp. A fit Parkin is a diamond, right now he's a lump of clay. Positives. Plenty, as I promised. We've coped with a terrifyingly destructive opening from our opponents, who, after all, are warm among the favourites to win this Division, and we've looked their equal for the majority of the match. Of the new men, I enjoyed Ricketts, Turner and Marney, all of whom seem obvious first-choices from now on. Delaney was a lion. Welsh was significantly more heavily involved in the game than most in which he drifted a shade aimlessly through the second half of last season - this was probably his best display since Coventry away last September. We need to show greater ability to hurt teams down the flanks and we need to find some goals. But, for all the irritation at losing to opponents who were generously assisted by a limp referee, this was not a discouraging start to the season.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Delaney, Dawson; Fagan, Welsh, Marney, Elliott; Parkin, Duffy.  Subs: France (for Elliott, 28), Burgess (for Parkin, 68), Andrews (for Duffy, 76), Thelwell, Duke.

Goals: None

Booked: Marney, Welsh

Sent Off: None

WEST BROMWICH ALBION: Zuberbuhler, Robinson, Perry, Davies, Watson, Greening, Quashie, Wallwork, Gera, Hartson, Ellington.  Subs: Carter (for Gera, 78), Inamoto (for Wallwork, 87), Albrechtsen (for Greening, 89), Kuszczak, Chaplow.

Goals: Hartson 57, 90

Booked: Greening

Sent Off: None

REFEREE: L Probert

ATTENDANCE: 20,682