An excellent performance against a subdued top of the table Derby side sees City claim a point with a late David Livermore strike, in a game that saw the debut of Ray Parlour and the re-emergence of Dean Windass as a line-leading threat.

"Teale on Target but Tigers Roar Back", screamed the front page of last night's Derby Sporting Green. And, you know, that might just be a headline which, apt as it was in the context of yesterday's proceedings at Pride Park, might, just maybe, be looked upon over the coming weeks as being equally appropriate in a wider and altogether more significant context. For after the general despondency quite reasonably hanging over the heads of the Tiger Nation after a couple of disappointing (for different reasons, but ultimately in each case because we lost) home performances, this was a day which again re-kindled the hope that our heroes might well have re-discovered the passion, resilience and above all the knack of finding the oppo's onion bag which might see us yet emerge victorious from an end-of-season relegation struggle that, after the weekend's results elsewhere, looks increasingly like a case of perming any three form six.

Maybe we never actually lost any of those important attributes: after all, you could easily argue that the WS débacle was just a blip and that the West Brom game was one which we were never realistically going to get anything from, such was the gulf in class in a contest rendered uneven before it had already begun thanks to the other side still having its snout in the Premiership trough. But certainly, after the disappointment of our lack of success in the transfer window (nothing personal, Doyley) had been assuaged to a considerable degree by the remarkable snaring of Ray Parlour (more of whom later), this was most assuredly a black-and-amber performance which belonged firmly within the sub-set of the more memorable (for the right reasons) ones of the Brown era. Not a game in which we will necessarily remembered for our flair, albeit that the first goal was perfectly executed and the second was a creation of sublime beauty, but certainly one that ought to leave us thinking that the general resurgence of effort and endeavour evident in the last couple of months has plenty of fuel in its boiler just yet.

The snow and sleet that had fallen over Derby having departed to leave behind a cold, and miserable but more or less dry day (but with a lot of residual dampness still lurking in the East Midlands air), the game attracted a splendid crowd of 28 140, effectively a full house apart from the no-man's land next to a City contingent of approaching 1 500 (which maybe sounds a touch disappointing, but, hey, some of us can remember the days when a four-figure following away from home would be talked about for years), which indicated a bit of an increase on the already-healthy Rams home contingent, proof perhaps that, in the same way that we have all encountered people in Hull who will regale you with tales of how, with Don Revie as manager and Chally and Wiggo spearheading the attack, City would regularly put crack European opponents to the sword in front of 65 000 at the Ark, there are inhabitants of the city (hmmm....) of Derby who still recall fondly the exploits of Fulton Mackay and Hector House. Anyway, whatever.

Suspensions, injuries and Doyle's unavailability meant a welcome return to the starting XI for the forgotten man Welshy and an unaccustomed role for Danny Coles (who at times early on seemed to drift into his more familiar centre-back position, as he sometimes does when given the right-back berth, to the point where it took me 20 mins to work out exactly what the formation was), and, with Browny ignoring calls to abandon (at least for selected games) a 4-3-3 line-up, we carded the following:-

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Delaney Dawson
Welsh Coles Livermore
Forster Parkin McPhee

The day had started well for your correspondent, but even an early meet-up for a fry-up with the gang, followed by three hours of uninterrupted riotous hilarity in an excellent nearby hostelry, left little stomach for the optimistic but, as it turned out, prescient observations of Tim Bentley on this very list on Friday. Not even the cowing of a menacing bunch of runny-nosed local chavs, doubtless high on Turkey Twizzlers, by a rousing and sonorous chorus of "Bring me Sunshine" on the walk from pub to ground (maybe we've unwittingly discovered the answer to anti-social behaviour in this country), could dent the foreboding that the forthcoming game would be just (or even easily) too much of a test for the Tigers.

Anyway, let's talk about the football, shall we?

The game started with City, their strip of black shirts and white shorts contrasting pleasingly with Derby's traditional colours, kicking away from the Tiger contingent amidst an early backdrop of boos for ex-Rams boss Browny, which makes the indignation of the Dorrbeh (as they are known locally) fans at the barracking Billy Davies got from the visiting Preston fans at Pride Park earlier in the season just a tad sanctimonious. We looked workmanlike if unflashy from the off, with Forster yet again looking likely to be the sharpest thorn in the home side's flesh (and indeed remaining so for much of the game - another fine performance, Nicky), but despite having a fair bit of the leather in the early stages didn't really trouble a well-marshalled and parsimonious (no goals conceded in the previous five games) home defence, while Dorrbeh themselves, playing with the sort of assurance you would expect from a side six points clear at the top, took few risks and broke quickly, a style which is the hallmark of the fine season they are having.

We had a real scare on 14 when, from the second of a couple of corners forced in quick succession, Howard, so often the scourge of City in the past (TigChat match reports passim), ought to have done better in glancing his header just wide. This put us under the cosh for a spell, apart from a little bit of respite when we win a corner that comes to naught) and a better effort from the Derby centre forward's head four minutes later forced Boaz into a fine diving save. We respond with spirit, though, and a beautiful ball from midfield (not sure who) allows Forster to force home netman Bywater into a save from a narrow angle. Forster then just fails to connect with another astute ball and suddenly it's City who are back in the ascendancy.

Indeed, we then come the nearest to scoring when, after a Livermore corner on 27 which is headed back into the box by the Beast (who incidentally was to my eyes a bit less leaden yesterday than of late, but is still pale a shadow of the agile, deft monster who was traumatising Championship defenders this time last year) first Coles and then Delaney had seemingly-goalbound efforts blocked in an almighty scramble. But Derby are noted for their menace on the break and their intelligent use of the width of the sward (this wasn't a ploy yesterday to exploit the defensive shortcomings of our full-backs; it's how they usually play), and they immediately combined both these attributes with the result that, within 20 seconds of the ball coming agonisingly close to finding the back of Bywater's net, Boaz was fishing it out of his. And so it was that the ball came out wide to the speedy Pearson, who delivered a square ball into the City box for Teale to despatch powerfully past Myhill's right hand.

"Tom Hark" boomed out from the Pride Park speakers (groan) and suddenly mouths in the City end went a bit dry, the more so because Derby don't, on the whole, go in front this early, preferring to garner their points in the last ten minutes of the game (not a criticism, by the way; after all Liverpool once dominated English and European football for many years by doing exactly that). Would this be the day they cut loose and give some hapless bunch of sods a real caning?

Well, they certainly pressed forward with every intention (and if I'm honest, appearance) of fulfilling that particular anxiety, only for the wind to be taken summarily out of their sails. For on 32, when City finally got upfield, the Beast was fouled some 25 yards out and, in fine acknowledgement of the Tigerfans chanting his name, Dawson stepped up and delivered an absolutely exquisite free-kick over the Dorrbeh wall and just inside Bywater's left-hand post. This was every bit as good as Thompson's effort for the WS against us, and indeed was a virtually identical strike except that it went into the opposite corner. The silence around three and a half sides of the ground was palpable as the remaining half a side made enough noise to compensate. But there's a serious point here: after over 40 years of watching City I have at home half a dozen Silvine notebooks full of things that irritate me immensely about City, one of the most prominent entries in which is our propensity to squander free-kicks in dangerous positions. Daws can clearly take a mean free-kick; he's shown it before, and indeed found the net from one only three games ago. Can we please therefore stop fannying about and, whenever the position of the free-kick justifies it, play what is clearly a strong suit and let Daws have a dig, maybe even make him practise them for a couple of hours every week as well.

But whatever, we've snuffed out the early reverse. The game settles down a bit now, with Welshy being shown the yellow on 37 after upending Edworthy, and Dawson then curling in a delightful free-kick which might well have heralded another City goal if any of ours had managed to get a touch on it. We then had another big scare on 41 though, when home debutant McEveley whipped in a cross onto the head of the unmarked Pearson only for Boaz to make a fine reflex save and block the leather with his left foot.

Referee Russell, a homer if ever there was one (as witness his constantly allowing the Rams to take corners from outside the quadrant despite protests from the City players (and even Deano, who was warming up nearby, on one occasion), then allowed 2 mins' injury time and played 3 min 40 secs, on no other apparent basis that Derby were pressing and might score. And so, after 3 min 38 secs of the added time, his apparent hopes were fulfilled. And it wasn't a goal of which City can feel proud. After Welshy had hooked one just wide, Derby attacked and won a corner on the right. This was whipped in and, although met none-too-powerfully by Moore, the ball bobbled languidly just inside Boaz's left-hand post (some say with the help of a deflection, but I personally didn't see that). Why did nobody get in the way of it? Why was nobody on the post?

Anyway, half-time, and a couple of observations. I'm not particularly proud, but by no means am I ashamed, of being a smoker, and how refreshing that Derby allow fans to stand outside the stand, under the far-from intimidatory eye of the constabulary (all dressed like proper bobbies instead of the paramilitary stormtroopers we get at the Circle) to enjoy a half-time drag without pissing off people who quite reasonably dislike tobacco smoke? Everyone's happy, and it ain't rocket science. The h'officer in charge of policing at the Circle (Supt White?) would be well advised to take in a game at Pride Park one Saturday, view this particular spectacle and the generally-impeccable manner of the policing as a whole, and take note of how it should be done (and I don't just mean the female PCs fingering their handcuffs while licking their lips, as a couple of my friends claimed to have spotted).

The second half-time observation will bring a smile to the lips of experienced Derby-watchers. One of the time-honoured attributes of your typical Derby fan is the perverse over-estimation of their club's away followings. Thus it was that I read with amusement that even the Derby manager has got in on the act, his programme notes praising the 3 000 fans who went to Southampton. Yeah, right.

Anyway, we come roaring out of the blocks at the start of the second half and force a couple of early corners, but they come to nothing and Derby break quickly again, and try to stamp their authority on the game which now enters a phase which might fairly be described as largely formless, broken by the maiden appearance of Parlour in the City number 14 shirt, along with Deano. Who'd have thought it a month ago, eh? Parlour and Windass coming on for City as subs. And particularly refreshing that Parlour has reportedly said that he only wants to be paid for the games in which he actually plays: it has been suggested that he has taken this stance purely to frustrate his rapacious ex-wife, an attitude with which I can from experience heartily sympathise. Anyway, whilst he put some good touches in and will no doubt be a fine addition to our playing strength, our very own Charlie Dimmock lookalike does, I think it can be fairly said, does look as though he needs to get used to our style of playing and get a game or two under his belt, both of which objectives there is no reason to believe will not be achieved. Deano for his part turned in a performance closer to that at Selhurst Park than to his two at the Circle; could this be in any way due to the absence from the proceedings of the Beast, we idly ponder?

On 62 Deano is clearly pushed on the edge (or maybe just inside?) the box by a defending Ram, but referee Russell, needless to say, is unmoved. Parlour then feeds a delicious ball into Deano in the inside-right channel but the home defence is as ever alert to the danger. But then we have a real chance on 67, when the indefatigable Forster (is he really 33?) wins a 50-50 with McEveley and crosses for McPhee, who gets a bit over-excited and balloons the leather into Row P or thereabouts. Another foul on McPhee on 72 then goes unpunished before the inevitable dodgy free is awarded immediately afterwards to the home side, which Jones whips in and it probably only needs a touch to put the result beyond doubt.

So, we live to fight on. And why the hell not? We are really standing up to the runaway League leaders at this point, challenging for every ball, winning possibly more than our share of them, but not ever quite having the ingenuity to break down a defence not noted for its generosity (indeed, Dawson's equaliser was the first they had conceded in 512 minutes of football, apparently).

It's absorbing stuff now as the game enters the last quarter of an hour and St Stuart takes the field in place of McPhee who had generally tried hard. Parlour has a shot blocked when he tries to catch out Bywater who looked slightly out of position, but then we survive another scare on 83 when Myhill is rounded wide out and the cross comes in, only for Howard not to get his way (geddit?) and see his header nodded off the line by Coles.

And that intervention by our emergency midfielder proves to be crucial in determining the share-out of the points. Derby, as we know, are highly adept at scoring late goals which determine the outcome of the game. But yesterday the tables were well and truly turned and a taste of the Derby medicine was administered to the home side in fine style, with just a couple of minutes of normal time on the clock. Parlour fed Ricketts out wide on the right, and the Welshman played the ball inside to Forster who, under pressure, delivered a one-two back to him. The hitherto well-drilled home defence for once neither cut out the resultant cross nor the run of Livermore, who coolly volleyed the leather with the side of his foot and on the full into the net from twelve yards out.

If the finish from Livermore was cool, so was his reaction to the goal. For as the Tiger Nation, to a man, woman and child, rose to its feet, fists clenched, eyes bulging, veins standing out on necks, bellowing with delight in a manner fit to burst the lungs, embracing complete strangers, our Doug calmly sauntered towards the corner, a single index finger protruding from his half-extended left arm - truly the calmest man, certainly of Tigerish persuasion, in the place, before being submerged under a tidal wave of exultant team mates.

And that was it. No last-ditch winner from Derby this time. Their fans, streaming for the exits, seemed to know that the game was up, while "That's why we're staying up" thundered from the stand and indeed could be heard into the Derby twilight well after the game. Even the ref realised it wasn't worth putting more than three minutes on, during which nothing of note happened, and the applause at the end for a fine battling performance was well earned. Best of all (well OK, not really) , we were spared an airing of that awful Derby record which they normally trot out when they win.

Phew! Well, let's have more of the same at Barnsley now, fellows.

HULL CITY (4-3-3): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Delaney, Dawson; Coles, Welsh, Livermore; Forster, Parkin, McPhee.  Subs: Windass (for Parkin, 62), Parlour (for Welsh, 62), Elliott (for McPhee, 77), Duffy, Duke.

Goals: Dawson 33; Livermore 88

Booked: Welsh, Delaney

Sent Off: None

DERBY COUNTY: Bywater, Edworthy, Leacock, Moore, McEveley, Oakley, Pearson, Jones, Teale, Howard, Barnes.  Subs: Macken (for Teale, 74), Bisgaard (for Oakley, 84), Lupoli (for Barnes, 90), Johnson, Mears.

Goals: Teale 29, Moore 45

Booked: Oakley

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:  M Russell

ATTENDANCE: 28,140