City never recover from a first minute goal and a powerful bullying performance from Stoke's array of six footers, losing 2-0.

So, three steps forward and one back, then.

I've always harboured a deep hatred for Stoke, ever since that fateful day in March 1971 when, in a Cup quarter-final with a semi against the Arse the prize, City beat the men from the land that time forgot 3-2 according to the laws of the game but lost it 3-2 according to the referee. Even after all this time I can't find it within me to forgive them, and indeed any reverse at the hands of the Potters - of which there have been many in the intervening years - only serves to exacerbate my silent fury, whilst the occasional victory - even one as hilariously delicious as last season's at the Britannia Mausoleum - never quite seems to assuage the torment to the same extent.

For all of that, though, I cannot find it within me to blame Stoke for yesterday's defeat, for it was in truth largely self-inflicted. Granted, the visitors were organised, unrelenting and physical, but these qualities have always been the mark of teams fielded by Tony Pulis and so the City players and management can, one would hope, hardly have failed to expect the type of game they got. More importantly, though, Stoke, for all their excellent recent form and their uncompromising attitude, were eminently beatable. But for a shortage of luck, some excellent goalkeeping from Simonsen and an inexplicable rush of blood to the head from Forster we might well have bagged at least three goals ourselves, while at the other end we demonstrated that our propensity to leak avoidable early goals has still not been eradicated. But generally, the overall performance was far from being the worst of the season; there was plenty of endeavour for much of the game, with City heads only dropping really in the last 10 minutes after Stoke's second went in.

No, the real problem, which defeated us even before we took to the field, was the formation. In other words, without the Beast, 4-5-1 just does not work, and especially not with Forster playing as the lone striker. Make no mistake, he worked hard, but not having Parkin's ability (through lack of bulk as opposed to skill, I hasten to add) to take long balls and hold them up in the face of some physical defending, he cut through no real fault of his own a forlorn and unavailing figure at times. To make matters worse, this was exactly what the smart money said would happen, and it is not to the credit of the City management that a little more imagination was not shown, especially as, as has already been pointed out in the comments on the game that have been posted on this list so far, Stoke will have been aware of the success of our much-trumpeted switch to 4-5-1 and will have been ready for it. Somewhat worryingly, unless it was a clever double-bluff on his part, Parky didn't seem to acknowledge, in his post-match comments on Humberside (who I think have now earned the right to cease to be called "Blunderside" as far as their football coverage goes, the appalling Peter Swan apart), that there was an alternative formation open to us, talking instead about the possibility of a loan signing coming in (though who on earth it would be heaven knows) to do the Beast's job. If this is what Parky genuinely thinks then it's a shame, as a 4-4-2 line up with say Ash and Jarrett in the centre of midfield (no Marney, admittedly, but that's not his fault), a role for Delaney somewhere in the back line (at the expense of Dawson who looks dreadfully out of his depth at present) and Bridges and Forster (or maybe even McPhee!) up front would make the best use of the available resources we have at present, would still give us a bit of solidity in the centre of the field and might even give the likes of Naaridge and Colchster a bit of a surprise. But he's the manager and he ultimately carries the can.

Right, sermon over and time for some match details. The only changes from the XI which started against Wolves were enforced ones and thus we lined up as follows:-

Myhill
Ricketts Coles Turner Dawson
Fagan Marney Jarrett Delaney Elliott
Forster

Barely had we had an opportunity to register the chill of the damp November afternoon, and reflect on the fact that both teams were playing in strips as original and traditional to their respective clubs as modern commercial demands will allow, when we were behind. There were about 80 seconds on the clock when a corner form the right was met by Higginbotham about 12 yards out, with not a City player within challenging distance, and headed firmly past Myhill's left hand. Two observations here: firstly, Coles said on the radio after the game that Higginbotham was Ricketts' man but that the City player was blocked as he tried to cover and the ref missed it, which, if that was true as opposed to an attempt by the City skipper at face-saving, begs the question of why there didn't seem to be much going on in the way of protesting; secondly, some old guy who I got chatting to as we waited to cross the road after the game said that Myhill was at fault as the header only passed a couple of feet to his left and he ought to have got a hand to it.

Anyway, we respond with a will and within a minute Forster smites a crisp half-volley straight at Simonsen. But the big Stoke front two of Sidibe and Pericard look a handful, abetted by a referee (Hegley, according to the prog) who seemed anxious to engender a physical mood (and, as has also already been pointed out, how the Beast would have relished that) but paradoxically showed himself willing at the same time to reward diving, as Pericard discovered to his advantage; as an experiment, there should be a presumption of diving against, and a yellow card for, any player who throws his hands up theatrically as he goes to ground. What made things worse was that we almost went two down from the resultant free-kick, which was dinked quickly into the box and headed towards goal, but Boaz at full stretch did well to tip it away.

Up the other end and on 8 it was Simonsen's turn to be at full stretch, as Jarrett, who had a generally solid day, picked up a bouncing ball in the middle of the field, scythed through the middle of the field like a hot knife through butter and hammered a low effort towards the left-hand corner which the Stoke custodian just managed to reach. But as if to mark the ding-dong nature of the proceedings at this stage, we then suffer another scare on 11 as Coles fails to check Pericard's progress and the resultant square ball into our box, just aching for a tap-in, is scrambled away by Dawson.

Talking of the devil, we win our first corner on 15 and the City number 3 bounces the leather five times before despatching it with unerring accuracy onto the head of the Stoke defender at the near post. We win our second corner on 20 and this time the ball is tossed up in the air twice (one high, one low), before being overhit to no-one in particular. Sigh.

Marney then embarks on a good run from midfield as quarter-time approaches, beating a couple of men and shooting in fiercely from the edge of the box, Simonsen being forced to push the ball up in the air and collect it from more or less under the crossbar, a situation crying out for a Nat Lofthouse if ever there was one.

On 24, our third corner. Two short bounces, then scuffed. Yuck. After that, Marney takes the corners. And from his first, a Turner header which looks goalbound seems to strike a Stoke hand. Mr Hegley is unimpressed.

Although still pushing, pulling and niggling away with gay abandon under the indulgent eye of the referee, a bit of the sting seems to have gone out the Potters' attack, and at this stage they still look ripe for the taking despite their goal advantage. But the game starts to drift a bit now, allowing fellow T-chatter Chris Douglas and myself to take time out to reflect on how the "On-Trent" bit of the name of the "city" of Stoke is a touch pretentious, as by the time it gets to that godforsaken spot the Trent is only about half the width of Barmston Drain, and how the Trent reduces in width by about half after the Tame (which incidentally is the watercourse that runs underneath the elevated bit of the M6 in Brum) leaves it near Alrewas in Staffordshire.

Geography lesson over, and the Stoke 20, Griffin, is yellow-carded on 31 for going through the back of Fagan, who then unfortunately spends much of the remainder of the half trying to get Griffin sent off as opposed to putting the ball in the visitors' net. And indeed it is nearly the City net which is the next to bulge as Coles and Pericard get into a bizarre wrestling match, completely oblivious to the leather trundling unattended slowly towards the City goal until Dawson finally wakes up and hoofs it to safety. The Stoke 15 ought to have done even better on 36 but dithers in the City box when in plenty of space and Turner is able to tidy up.

We perk up a bit as the half closes, and first Elliott on 40 then Jarrett three minutes later both fire in powerful efforts with which Simonsen has to deal. The final incident of note of the first period though concerns our occasional defensive uncertainty, as Boaz fails to come for a ball that's clearly his, forcing Turner to concede an unnecessary corner.

So, half time. We have battled well but are lacking incision through having a lone, not-awfully-physical striker, and have only really tested the Stoke keeper from distance. Surely Parky will make the switch to 4-4-2 that will surely allow us to retrieve a game that's far from lost?

Yeah, right. Same 4-5-1, same players from our change-averse manager in the second half. D'you reckon Parky still eats rusks?

Anyway, the scene for the second period is soon set as Stoke, in the finest traditions of Pulis, are intent from the off in slowing things down and not taking any risks which might jeopardise their lead, whilst their maybe 1000 fans keep up their tedious repetition of "Delilah" and that awful 1972 League Cup Final song (penned by Tony Hatch, apparently - for the younger ones among you he also wrote the theme tunes for Neighbours and Emmerdale, among many, many others), virtually the only two songs they sing all afternoon.

But on 49 we have a golden chance to get back on terms, as a City break finds Forster haring through the inside-right channel with the unmarked Elliott - probably the Tiger most likely to find the net - to his left. A simple ball to the Ulsterman would almost certainly have brought an equaliser, but Forster inexplicably went right and was swiftly crowded out.

Two minutes after that, and you start to realise that this isn't going to be our day, when we win a free kick on the right and Elliott, from a fairly tight angle, flashes in a magnificent curling drive which looks destined for the top far corner all the way until the diving Simonsen somehow gets across to it and fists it over the bar. A tremendous effort and equally fine goalkeeping.

We have the best of the third quarter of the game generally but our visitors have largely retreated and pulled up the drawbridge now, and we are seldom get the space to create real chances. On 59 Turner chests a Fagan cross down for Delaney but the Irishman - who you have to say looks somewhat under-utilised in his midfield role - spoons it over. We are actually relying almost solely on Fagan during this spell for creative input, and whilst he does his best to be fair it's a tall order. The injection of Barmby instills a bit of urgency and incisiveness into things, though, and a couple of minutes after coming on he chests a ball down into the path of the unfortunate Elliott, whose stinging effort is yet again parried away by the keeper.

It's looking bleak for us now, though, as Stoke remain well-marshalled and not likely to risk their lead in an endeavour to increase it (Ha!), and the double substitution on 74 doesn't seem to add any kind of new dimension to our play, whilst at the same time depriving us of the one player looking most likely to breach the Stoke goal-line (one can only assume that Elliott had taken a knock or something, otherwise his subbing defies explanation).

And then, the sucker punch. Some sloppy midfield work gives the Stoke attack a rare chance to stretch its legs, and the ball is eventually worked to the left side of the D by the wussily-begloved Russell, whose fairly feeble shot takes a deflection and enters the centre of the goal (allegedly through Myhill's legs, although the number of onlooking City defenders in the way prevents me from confirming that), and the "Footie" fans are heading for the exits even before the restart.

Our heads visibly drop, and Stoke are now in complete control without really very much happening at either end. The only two things of note that happened in the last ten are that Griffin again went through on Fagan, and should have received his second yellow for the privilege (and had that been his first offence he would without doubt have picked up a yellow for it: bloody poor refereeing), and that a mere 3 minutes' injury time was allowed, despite five substitutions, which meant that effectively no time was added on for Stoke's constant timewasting. But maybe Mr Hegley had simply decided to spare us any more of it.

The comment was made after the game that other results went for us, but is that really true? Admittedly, none of the other members of the bottom four won, but the gap between them and the rest of the pack must not be allowed to get any wider at this stage, especially as Papa Smurf will surely do whatever it takes to ensure that the White Shite pull away to safety, and their relegation will realistically have to remain a delightful fantasy.

As for us, we definitely need points from the next two away games. But we said that after the Sunderland game, too.

HULL CITY (4-5-1): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Coles, Dawson; Fagan, Jarrett, Marney, Delaney, Elliott; Forster.  Subs: Barmby (for Dawson, 63), Yeates (for Elliott, 75), Bridges (for Forster, 75), Livermore, Duke.

Goals: None

Booked: None

Sent Off: None

STOKE CITY: Simonsen, Hoefkens, Duberry, Higginbotham, Griffin, Lawrence, Hendrie, Diao, Russell, Sidibe, Pericard.  Subs: Brammer (for Pericard, 61), Bangoura (for Lawrence, 72), Hill (for Griffin, 86), Paterson, Pulis.

Goals: Higginbotham 2, Russell 80

Booked: Bangoura, Griffin

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:  G Hegley

ATTENDANCE: 16,940