A jittery Tigers side limps to a point against a well organised but limited Colchester side, who could have snatched all three points after Nicky Forster's first half strike gave the Tigers a flimsy ascendancy.

We like our little soundbites, we Tigerfans. Who amongst those of us who were there can forget the spluttering inanity of "Speculate to accumulate" during the unspeakable Needler/Fish/Dolan era? Or "We'll be there or thereabouts" in the initially more optimistic but eventually equally crisis-torn years that followed, usually uttered by some individual sat back, hands folded over his stomach in a gesture of complacency, after we had just dropped points at the Ark to leave us 13th in Division 4 at the end of February?

The one, more apt than either of the foregoing, that has been doing the rounds of late is "Will the real Hull City please stand up?", as our heroes have fluctuated between giving some of the Division's leading lights a comprehensive rogering and capitulating in the most aggravatingly supine fashion in matches which, on paper and on the ground, were there for the taking.

Well, the smart money may well now be on the conclusion that that the real Hull City has now stood up after what we had to endure at the Circle yesterday. For if ever a day dawned when the chips were well and truly down, and when every ounce of courage, determination and moral fibre had to be shown by every individual sporting a black and amber shirt, yesterday was it. But to say that we bottled it doesn't do things justice; nay, we positively Jeroboamed it. Granted, this was never going to be an easy fixture: Colchester are undoubtedly the Division's surprise package, albeit just like Luton were last season and I wouldn't mind a sov or two on the impressive Scunts being next season, and the recent second wind that they seemed to have found, garnering them four wins on the bounce and a spot in the table within spitting distance of the play-off slots, meant that this was no longer going to be the end-of-season jaunt for them that we had all expected two or three weeks ago.

But there's a huge difference between treating clearly-capable and dangerous opponents with the appropriate degree of professional respect and the approach that City took to this game yesterday. This was a day when we had to get into our opponents' faces, hustle, block, shove and shirt-pull when we didn't have the ball, and run off the ball, find space, create options, work for each other until we dropped and maybe even take the odd risk when we did have it. Instead, what we got was, for the most part, uninspiring and uninspired throughout.

The defence worked hard, as it had to do against our visitors' lethal strike force, but was far too error-prone. The midfield showed virtually nothing in the way of creative endeavour, preferring instead to sit tight in front of the back four and hoof the ball long when it came their way, the result of which abdication of responsibility was that the front three were largely starved of the service they needed. This was exacerbated by the warm conditions; Deano was never going to be able to run his socks off for 90 minutes in that heat, and it wasn't a day for Elliott to be doing that either given his respiratory problems, and the lack of service was all the more infuriating because to my eyes at any rate the Colchester defence looked none-too-comfortable and indeed likely to ship goals if given a hard time of it, as evidenced by the fact that, on one of the rare occasions when a genuinely dangerous ball found its way into the Essex men's box the leather was duly deposited into the onion bag with minimum fuss. That should have been our "Get out of Jail" card, but instead we seemed hell-bent on opting instead for a stroll down the Old Kent Road (in the direction of Millwall, presumably), as we failed to capitalise, failed to grasp the gravity of the situation once Cureton had been given one chance too many and in the end seemed criminally content with a point which by the final whistle we were decidedly fortunate to have hung onto.

And it pains me to say this, for I along with many others have tried to keep faith with him, but this time the blame has to be laid fairly and squarely at the feet of our manager. His proclamation before the game that this was a "must not lose" as opposed to a "must win" was complacency of the highest order. Does anyone seriously imagine that Wise will have been spouting such nonsense to the WS team before their game with Burnley? Did he not realise that anything but a win yesterday would probably result in it all depending on the final day's results, thereby cranking the tension and pressure up to unbearable levels (well, for those of us who care about the Club, at any rate) and leaving absolutely no margin for error? Does he still think that a point was enough yesterday, as he surveys the League table today? Could he genuinely not see what over 20 000 Tigerfans could all see perfectly well yesterday? And has it dawned on him that if we perform in the next and final three games as we have in the last three, at a time when the WS and Barnsley seem to be finding a bit of form, we shall without doubt be relegated? I genuinely wanted to avoid reaching this conclusion, but, to use the terminology adopted in recent contributions to this list, Pearson cannot be blamed if the chin-stroking has now come to an end, for even we avoid the drop it must all surely have been far to close a call for him to tolerate.

And another thing. Quite apart from the value that getting all three points would have borne in terms of preserving our League status, we were thoroughly humiliated at Layer Road earlier in the season, in addition to which a resounding victory for us yesterday would have meant a big smack in the mouth for Heard, the Colchester chairman, who, over the Parkinson saga, behaved appallingly by any standards even if he was perfectly within his legal rights to do so. Any team with an iota of pride, self-respect and feeling for the Club ought to have been consumed yesterday with the desire to go out and teach Colchester a lesson that they would not forget for many a campaign. Not us. We have too many players who seem to be in far too much of a comfort zone, and the time looks to have come to purge the Club of this and wield the axe in the close season regardless of which Division we are lining up in, even if that means consigning players who can't be sold to the stiffs, or even putting them on gardening leave. Whilst the Chairman must not interfere in playing personnel matters save in respect of budgetary considerations, it would not be a surprise to find him thinking along similar lines.

Team-wise, the availability of Livermore (albeit that in hindsight he looked well below par) and the summons of Vaz Te back to the Reebok to spearhead Big Sam's charge into Europe gave the line-up the look of an XI that ought to have been capable of doing the business:-

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Delaney Dawson
Parlour Ashbee Livermore
Forster Windass Elliott

The day was warm and sunny, more akin to June than April, to the point where a couple of hours' alfresco drinking before the game meant that your correspondent's unprotected pate had a stinging sensation to it when placed under the hot shower this morning, and Colchester, wearing what looked like an all-white strip that had been washed many times, kicked off away from a franky pitiful gathering of 350 or so of their followers. First incident of note was a proper contested bounce-ball (there was even another in the second half) following a clash of heads involving Deano, but the game itself was hard to read early on. Colchester win the game's first corner - easily cleared - on 6 although we get one two minutes later, which Delaney gets his head to but is pulled up for a foul. As the game settles down, though, it isn't coming together for us: there are too many aimless and inaccurate balls being fired out of defence and midfield, and the several unavailing attempts to get a chorus of the Great Escape theme going around the ground seem pointedly symbolic of this.

But our visitors do look edgy at the back, and perhaps sensing this we start to look a bit more up for it. It still takes a further ten minutes for this to blossom into anything worth writing about here, mind, which is rectified on 18 when Ricketts - along with Forster the only Tigers to have had a genuinely good game throughout - makes space intelligently and fires in a cross which Gerken plucks off Elliott's head. We step up a bit now and look good value, winning a couple of corners without going close, until the 23rd minute that is, when a Ricketts throw, sent in long for Delaney on the near post, causes havoc in the visitors' box before one of their defenders has to concede another corner.

A minute later though, we lead and are good value for it at this stage. Dawson takes a short throw on the left to Ash who, with the only genuinely incisive ball he played all afternoon, curls it briskly into the inside left channel. Deano leaves (or misses!) it and the visiting defence stand like rabbits caught in the headlights, leaving Forster to sidefoot the leather low past the wrong-footed Gerken from seven or eight yards out.

The Circle explodes with relief as much as anything else. Surely now this is the platform from which to go on and secure a genuine lifeline?

Well, it doesn't look that way at first, as Colyoo (as their gobby fans insist on calling them) press forward, win a free kick on the right and Ricketts has to head it to safety. From the resultant corner the ball is flicked by Iwelumo onto Cureton on the edge of the six-yard box but he doesn't get enough power on his header to trouble Boaz.

We fight back, though, and on 27 a raking Elliott cross is volleyed first time by Deano. Sadly there is no repeat of his third goal against Southend, but the ball whizzes across the face of the goal, evading the inrushing Forster by maybe a foot with Gerken glued to his line.

At this point though, we start to get generous, and experienced observers of all things black and amber start to suspect that this is going to end in tears. The first scare comes on the half-hour when Turner allows the lanky Iwelumo too much space to send Cureton clean through, only for the normally-lethal marksman to rush his effort and ping it weakly wide. But it's not one-way traffic, and after a corner comes across the goal to Delaney he must shoot, but can't get it onto his favoured left foot. The resulting lob back into the mixer again causes as much panic in the Colchester box as if it were a primed hand grenade, nevertheless, and the danger is only averted when the ball strikes the back of Elliott's heels; a second City goal would almost certainly have ensued if he had been able to get the leather under control. The Ulsterman then heads a corner into the side-netting.

Windass then goes down, but Colchester play on. A minute later, Ephraim goes down, and Turner promptly kicks the ball into touch. Sigh.

After Ephraim goes down (a little too easily, it has to be said, but who can blame him?) the resultant free is taken quickly while City are still buggering about with their wall, but Ricketts gets across to cover. Parlour, who to be honest lacked vision and drive all afternoon, clatters Ephraim and sees yellow. Ricketts then reacts well to clear a dangerous Cureton cross, and suddenly the pendulum has swung away from us again, and remains so for pretty much the rest of the game. A minute before half-time Duguid, generally unavailing and out of his depth in a strikingly similar way to Ash, is given far too much room on the right to get in a low cross, but luckily Turner manages to deny Iwelumo what should have been an easy tap-in from all of a yard out. The City number 6 then saves Delaney's blushes as normal time draws to a close, covering back to deny Cureton after poor control had allowed the Colchester number 8 a free run on goal. The only incident of note in the two minutes' added time is that Colchester's John Jackson (didn't he play in goal for Palace?) is booked for a challenge on Forster so late that it would even have shown up as late on Virgin Trains' punctuality figures.

So, after a pretty solid 15/20 minute spell, when we might well have put the game beyond reach, we reach half-time (during which incidentally the Juniors were presented with their League trophy and winners' medals) lucky to have our slender lead still intact, and discussion turns to the second half. Will we cut out the defensive errors? Will we get in their faces more? Will Colchester, having done us two favours by beating Sarfend and the WS, do us a third by contriving to lose this one?

Erm, no, no and thrice no. There's only one team up for it, that much is palpable. Ephraim is booked a couple of minutes in for a late challenge on Ricketts, and a minute or so later, Cureton again goes close when given too much space (was it to do with that mole on his face, I wonder?) and hits over a cross from Duguid. The crowd is now anxious but the chants of "Fuck 'em up, get into 'em" emanating from the East Stand go unheeded, and we remain content to let our guests dictate the game and offer frankly nothing in return that's going to trouble them.

The evident mood of anxiety is not helped by the fact that from this point until the end of the game City seem to be on the receiving end of a succession of at times unlucky and at others downright poor decisions from referee Milner, of which the award of a goal kick when their number 5 heads over on 53 is a classic example.

On 54 Myhill makes a fine diving save from a Jackson drive, but then the next two incidents occur, somewhat implausibly, in front of the South Stand. On 56 Elliott wins a header from an Ash cross but nobody (and it has to be said that Deano is the main culprit here) attempts to get on the end of it, and then on 62 Forster chases a poor Deano ball, skins his man no fewer than three times on the right side of the box and then crosses, but guess what? No City player in sight.

This profligacy or lack of endeavour, call it what you will, finally gets its just deserts a minute later, by dint of yet more hesitant defending. For the 374th time Iwelumo is allowed too much room. Dawson, trying to clear falls on his posterior and so does Cureton, but the man in blue and white regains his feet and plants the leather firmly past Myhill's right hand from the edge of the box amidst much contemplation of fingernails in the City defence.

The small muster of Essex folk huddled in the furthermost recesses of the North Stand suddenly find their voices and spend the rest of the game taunting the City fans (well, actually delivering some realistic analysis of our survival prospects) in their whingeing Estuary English monotone. But we rally briefly, or at least the indefatigable Forster does, cutting inside from a Ricketts ball and hitting a low effort inches wide: if only more of the team had the same energy and guts. The unavailing Peltier comes on for the willing but ailing Livermore to no discernible positive effect, and Boaz comes to the rescue again on 77 with another fine diving save to his right from a long-distance effort.

Curiously, especially given that a single point was probably even less good to them than it was to City, Colchester seem to content themselves with what they've got, or at least don't break their necks in the quest for an extra two points which look there for the taking, although Cureton (who else?) comes close to sealing it with a wonder strike on 83, when Delaney yet again doesn't get close enough to him (you know, I'm sure it's all to do with that mole; there's no other explanation) and the Colchester striker fires the ball just over the far angle from a narrow angle with Boaz looking beaten.

The substitutions of Mc Phee for Deano, and a (relatively) lithe-looking Beast for St Stuart do nothing (because they didn't address the basic problem that the front line was getting no service; if Colchester's front two had been similarly badly looked after we would have won without a doubt), and the Beast in particular looks every bit as devoid of creativity and vigour as when he left for the land that time forgot, but to be fair he wasn't brought on in the most propitious of circumstances. It all gets a bit formless towards the close, although both Parlour and then Peltier are pulled up for nothing apparent when in dangerous positions as we move into the four minutes' added time, and our final chance to pull something out of the fire is blown right at the death when a deep cross finds the Beast, who chests down and shoots but his effort is blocked. But it's all too little, too late, and the boos from the majority of the 20 887 crowd at the end say it all - not just for the manner of the performance yesterday, but for the games which preceded it. One senses that the goodwill shown by the Club towards the players may be eroding; another negative factor as things enter the critical phase.

So, we're now really faced, given the unlikelihood of any sort of reward from the next two games, on Barnsley or the WS messing up, and then having to get a win on the last day of the season, to have any hope of survival. Truly a vexation to the spirit, especially as it's been caused by a run of one point and three performances which might just have been understandable if we had been about six places further up the table.

The last word today must go to the lady preacher who at my local Church this morning gave a sermon which included the observation that "doubts need not be the enemy of faith". I managed to resist the temptation to ask her on the way out if she had watched City this season.

HULL CITY (4-3-3): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Delaney, Dawson; Parlour, Ashbee, Livermore; Forster, Windass, Elliott.  Subs: Peltier (for Livermore, 68), Parkin (for Elliott, 79), McPhee (for Windass, 85), Coles, Duke.

Goals: Forster 24

Booked: Parlour

Sent Off: None

COLCHESTER UNITED: Gerken, Duguid, Brown, Baldwin, Barker, Garcia, Izzet, Ephraim, Jackson, Cureton, Iwelumo.  Subs: McLeod (for Ephraim, 66), Guy (for Cureton, 90), White, Elokobi, Davison. 

Goals: Cureton 63

Booked: Ephraim, Jackson

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:  N Miller

ATTENDANCE: 20,887