A dreadful spectacle as two teams attempt damage-limitation in a League Cup that extends to penalties.  The Tigers triumph in a shoot-out for the first time ever and progress to the potentially lucrative Third Round.

A penalty shoot-out and a Mexican wave provide the only sources of entertainment or intrigue as City stodgily hobbled into the third round of the Carling Cup.

A Mexican wave? Blimey, have we sunk so low?

It began in extra time as the 6,000+ KC hardcore somehow stumbled upon a way of keeping warm and occupied as long ball after long ball failed to find its target.

Not everyone joined in. Me included. My belief is that anyone involved in a Mexican wave, as instigator or follower, should not complain if they receive deportation notices for Mexico the next day. A slightly extreme standpoint, perhaps.

But remarkably, even the West Stand managed to get involved. And the nine or so Hartlepool fans who had braved the zig-zaggier bits of the A19 even partook. But if the plan was to inspire the players, it didn't work.

What did was the shoot-out. Each keeper made two saves but a further Poolie stuck one into the South Stand, where hardly anyone was present to catch it. We can be grateful Stuart Green wasn't around to be on the roll call.

Praying for an injury-free cakewalk prior to a colossal bottom-of-the-table clash near Television Centre at the weekend were:-

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Collins Dawson
France Marney Welsh Yeates
Barmby Fagan

The return of Barmby, Welsh, Collins and Marney and debut of Yeates were purely out of Phil Parkinson's sense of necessity, having finally popped the live TV bubble on Friday against Sheffield Wednesday, Ashbee and Livermore were removed from the midfield; Bridges was cup-tied; Manchester City (and possibly Blackburn) asked Mills not to be so; Parkin was rested, and was the only one of the extricated group to be put on the bench. Dawson wore the armband.

The only remarkable thing about Hartlepool, an industrious but refreshingly clean side for League Two, was the complete inability for folk like me to see their shirt numbers. Optimistically kitted this season in halved Blackburn-esque cast offs, the red digits on the back may well have been random splodges from a four year old at kindergarten for all they told about the players.

The visitors settle quickest. Tidy forward Porter breaks a feeble, unrehearsed City offside trap and gets a dangerous low one in, which bruising strike partner Daly steers wide. An early let-off. City aren't composed, with Pools deploying the traditional two banks of four which, even at the earliest of stages, has "playing for extra time" written through it like rock.

City mount an attack at last as Barmby releases Fagan who, having almost stopped and walked over to the linesman to check on his onsideness or otherwise, chased the ball unfazed, launched it low for Barmby's return run, but our rapidly declining homeboy places the ball too close to a Konstantopoulous glove.

Although chances were being created at either end, there was something distinctly underwhelming about the whole occasion. The dreadfully low numbers were undoubtedly a contributory factor (especially in the South Stand, which had sparseness more befitting of a stiffs match, and the absentees should be roundly whipped) but also the obvious knowledge that while defeat would be disappointing, it would also be unsurprising and therefore easier to bear. City don't do cups. Ever.

Still, the odd peppering at goal was being administered. Nelson, the Pools defender who was flavour of the year for a bit but never quite got his move, found himself freed from a set-piece but, being a centre back, had no finishing instinct and swatted his shot right at Myhill. Daly then re-enacts Nat Lofthouse with little of the aplomb or lawfulness as his shoulders take both keeper and ball into the net, with the whistle shrilling in his Irish ears.

Two pals in the East Stand with me demonstrate their mutual boredom - one by asking for endorsement of his shiny blue jacket, the other by commenting upon the impending arrival of Hull Fair. Both of these discussions went uninterrupted despite France hitting a bouncing ball straight at the Pools stopper (whose surname I won't bother with again until writing out the line-ups) and then a smart six-man move almost got Barmby through before a blue stocking managed to trap the last ball.

Half time, goalless and largely guileless.

City upped the pressure a little in the second half, and Marney - quickly emerging as a waste of money to large sections of support - began to show a little of what he learned at the fabled Tottenham academy with a selection of high, accurate, long-range balls, mainly on to Fagan's chest. Sadly, they were largely pointless, either through lack of close control or Hartlepool's defensive outlook disallowing Fagan from doing anything other than playing the ball backwards.

Still, one or two scraps came City's way. Barmby hit a stinging volley goalwards until the head of Gibb, an out-and-out winger who once (briefly) interested Peter Taylor, got in the way. Yeates, another natural winger and an impressive but still unfit performer, nutmegs two Pool people in succession and forces the Greek goalie into a good stretching save.

Parkinson summons Parkin. Hey, maybe that's why the frivolous sector of City's support don't get a wave. Maybe the manager thinks 'Parky' is actually 'Parkin' and looks to the Beast for acknowledgement.

Or maybe he has better things to do on a match day.

The Beast's entry for France lifts the crowd temporarily, but after immediately putting Fagan through for a regulation Fagan shot straight at the keeper, he has little further effect. Parkinson calls upon his forgotten men. Duffy - whom I still like, and can see being a success if paired with Bridges - and last resort Elliott are thrown on for Barmby and Yeates. Immediately Duffy manages to take his alienation that bit further when he heads awfully wide from a Fagan centre. Parkin then heads at the keeper, and extra-time is the verdict.

This was when the Mexican wave was getting underway. I've never seen such activity at City before. Ashamed or amused? Maybe a bit of both. But I didn't join in. Oh no.

The extra-time period was outlandishly forgettable. There was a yellow card for the first time, and a Marney free kick into the wall. Elliott skied an overhead kick. Marney hit a venomous drive which Gibb, thanklessly, used his head to block for a second time, while Marney tried ludicrously to claim handball.

Pools had two late goes, with Gibb breaching Dawson's cover and getting a dangerous low cross in which Collins blocked; then sub Foley turning sweetly away from the over-committed Dawson and hitting a powerful drive which Myhill's palms managed to divert.

Penalties then. And, having broken a TV hoodoo, suddenly there was a chance to break another. City's total lack of success in previous competitive shoot-outs could now be bedded forever. And, for all the blandness of the occasion, we could garner a mite of thrillseeking from the climax.

The South Stand end was elected for the pens, and Pools went first. Liddle placed to Myhill's left but it was the much-quoted "good height" and Bo fisted it away. Hurrah. Parkin then sent the Athenian the wrong way for 1-0.

Ooch, careful. Excitement and a scent of another unusual Cup victory, especially when Clark slices his kick haphazardly over. A pen and a kick up. Then Elliott and Duffy's kicks are saved in identical manner, either side of Brackstone scoring off the post. Foley then fires past Myhill and Pools lead. Suddenly, we feel bothered. Fagan, despite suffering from cramp, steers his kick confidently home. Then Pools sub Brown is beaten out by Myhill, allowing Dawson to clinch the win.

None of that rushing to the final kicker to celebrate. A few brisk handshakes and a slow stroll to the supporters, already thinking about Saturday's trip to a shocking QPR team and an excellent chance of three more points.

As for the Carling Cup, City are through to the third round and could get any top team now, or an even an away tie with MK Dons. Hold on tight.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Collins, Dawson; France, Welsh, Marney, Yeates; Barmby, Fagan.  Subs: Parkin (for France, 61), Elliott (for Yeates, 73), Duffy (for Barmby, 73), Thelwell, Duke.

Goals: None

Booked: Elliott

Sent Off: None

HARTLEPOOL UNITED: Konstantopoulos, Williams, Nelson, Clark, Brackstone, Gibb, Sweeney, Liddle, Robson, Porter, Daly.  Subs: Foley (for Porter, 86), Bullock (for Sweeney, 89), Brown (for Robson, 109), Provett, Barron.

Goals: None

Booked: None

Sent Off: None

REFEREE: P Merlin

ATTENDANCE: 6,392