City ring the changes and ease past League 2 Crewe in the Carling Cup.

Several conversations with friends since the weekend have forced me to realise with dismay that I have managed to convey quite the opposite impression to that which I intended in my survey of the defeat against Plymouth. Admittedly, I did remark of our esteemed manager that 'Mahogany Phil wouldn't recognise a tactical insight if it marched up to him on Ferensway and whacked him round the chops with a wet haddock', but this observation was designed merely to draw attention to the cruel decline of the fishing industry in our great port city since the Icelandic ocean heists of the early 1970s. In fact I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Mr Brown in failing to suffer any fresh-fish-related assaults on the streets of Hull in recent times. And - worse - I may have left you supposing that my comments about Mr Duffen's flash suits and murky loans revealed that I have in some way developed a negative estimate of our Chairman's aptitude for taking our club forward. Not a bit of it! This was merely a transcription error perpetrated by my typist Sonia, a twinkle-eyed minx of a 19-year old short-skirted Swede in need of shelter and lodging, and in fact the reference was to Vlac Zuits and Murrki Lohns, a skilful pair of Kosovar midfielders whom I understand we might well be signing soon (as long as they're injured and their agent is willing to do the deal the Duffen way, reportedly).

So allow me to put you straight. City are ace. What a season of promise unfolds before our rapt gaze!

Well, provided our remaining 45 League matches can follow last night's model, and be played on balmy summer evenings against teams specialising in pretty touches but no tackles, feints not bone-crunching, and, perhaps most crucial of all, involve opponents from a Division below us.

In the absence of those essential pre-conditions it's possible that last night's romp at Crewe will have precisely zero significance in gauging our fate on and off the pitch in the months to come. But do let me look on the bright side - there may be few opportunities to sight it as the winter beckons - and last night was a very enjoyable canter for the couple of hundred City fans there to witness it, and it may have jolted our manager to grasp some basics about out squad, such as the point that Danny Coles should at present be nowhere near the team-sheet.

Kicking off on an agreeable Cheshire evening was a line-up with very little in common with last Saturday's, in terms of both personnel and formation:

Duke
Doyle Turner Brown Delaney
Garcia Featherstone Livermore Elliott
McPhee Bridges

Mercy! A proper 4-4-2! Nothing fishy about that.

And, do you know, it worked. Rather well.

On 4, two neat touches in midfield, the ball's slipped to Featherstone, a shot, a comfortable save. That, my friends, looked uncommonly like proper football. Call me old-fashioned, but that’s the way I like it. Keep the ball on the ground, move it around.

Only a fussy and whistle-happy referee interferes with the pleasing flow of the game. Both teams are trying to play attractively. No ugly lumps forward and, in the style typical of the early stages of the League Cup, there's little physical aggression. On 16 Elliott beats his man and reaches the by-line, pulling the ball back to Bridges, who sidefoots wide. On 26 Elliott sends a longer cross to the far post where Bridges has space 8 or so yards out, but he tries to take a difficult chance just above the bounce and volleys ambitiously wide.

It's not all us. On 32 Miller bursts clear in pursuit of a clever through ball, but Duke stands firm and beats away the fierce shot. And ten minutes later we're ahead. Livermore strokes in a corner from the left and, bizarrely and stupidly, one of theirs raises an arm and concedes an obvious but wholly unnecessary penalty. Bridges takes it and follows the Windass model from Saturday by hitting a poor effort far too close to the goalkeeper, who is able to block the shot easily. But the ball bounces out directly to Bridges who gratefully punts it back over the line.

1-0 up, and deservedly so. It's not quite half-time, and on 44 a tricky Crewe turn deep inside our box allows Duke to shine again as he makes an alert save from a sharp shot. And a minute later he repels another though less dangerous effort. Which brings us to the break.

On 47 Crewe carve out their best chance of the evening. A free-kick 25 yards out is played down the right, behind our defence, squared and then blootered horribly over the bar by Pope. He should have tested Duke as a minimum and it was one of the very few occasions on which our defence looked at all inattentive.

Crewe weren't able to put us under any sort of sustained pressure, and the game slipped into scrappy mode for a short spell. That suited us well enough. What suited us even better was a startlingly excellent second goal. The ball was played up to Bridges near the half-way line. He spun briskly away from his marker and picked out a glorious cross-field pass to Garcia who was sprinting forward down the right. The defence was totally shredded, and Stuart Elliott, advancing in support, was as close to Garcia as any of the flailing Crewesters. Garcia could have slipped a pass to Elliott. No need. He approached the edge of the box and smacked a rising right-foot shot into the near top corner of the net past a helpless Williams. Marvellously decisive.

Game's up for Crewe now. Even more so a quarter of an hour later when a long ball into their box is greeted by comedy defending. McPhee gleefully intervenes as the homesters dither, and the Scot edges a shot with the outside of his right-boot towards the goal. It's woefully under-hit and hardly has enough momentum to trickle over the line. But with the Crewe keeper hopelessly flat-footed and the defence fair puggled, it's enough. That's 3-0 and McPhee cavorts away in joy to celebrate his first goal for City. He's well received by his team-mates too, which speaks well of the spirit in the squad, about which recent rumours have not been positive.

Subfest. Garcia off, Marney on. The doughty Brown goes off too, replaced at left-sided centre-back by Delaney while Ricketts trots on and takes up the left-back station. It's lots of fun now. This is Hull City passing the ball around neatly, our support jubilantly hurls 'Ole' after 'ole' into the evening air. With no sense of irony. We're doing things properly. Calmly crafted ten-man passing moves, across the pitch, up and down the pitch. It's delightful to watch.

Bridges goes off, Ashbee comes on and he promptly blunders a thudding pass which neatly bisects the space between two of his waiting team-mates and smacks hard into the advertising hoardings.

It's almost over and, after McPhee heads an inviting cross firmly wide on 90, it is over. And we can ask one of football's more tasty questions: 'When's the draw for the next round then?' (When is it, by the way?).

Good performances all over the pitch. In particular? Duke was first-class. He truly commanded his area, soaring to grasp every cross lobbed into it with impressive confidence. Sure, Crewe offered little physical threat so this was hardly the most testing work-out Duke will ever be asked to confront, but he did everything right last night. Turner was outstandingly good, and looked every inch the composed centre-back he looked for most of the second half of last season. Quite how he didn't get a start against Plymouth I can't say. Wayne Brown is our Matt Prior. Always chirping, always organising, always encouraging. I suspect that, unlike England's current gloveman, Brown can probably pouch tricky deliveries down the leg-side, whereas I doubt Prior can turn in a stint as an uncompromising centre-back. Featherstone was terrific. A proper ballplayer. He didn't waste possession, he didn't hoof, he made himself available. Quite how he's avoided all that getting beaten out of him the way that Hull City normally ruins its juniors I don't know, but last night young Featherstone looked rich in promise. Add in a sprightly display from Elliott, skilful moments from Bridges and plenty of combative target-man grinding by McPhee and, with the sole exception of the tentative Doyle at right-back, there was a lot to like about Hull City last night.

And this tells us what? That Crewe were much less demanding opposition than Plymouth. And we also know from experience that there could be no less appropriate preparation for taking on an ugly bruising Ian Dowie side than facing delicate but lightweight Crewe. On Saturday I think Coventry will get in a few unsettlingly early meaty challenges, quite possibly as our players are trooping off the team bus at one o'clock. But even so, two (very differently paced) games into new season, the evidence strongly suggests that Turner and Brown should be our centre-back pairing; that we're always a better side with Livermore in the starting eleven, rather than out of it, and that the reverse is true of Ashbee; that we've got an interesting mix of strikers but may yet also need a six-foot-plus ogre as an extra option; and that 4-4-2 is preferable to 4-3-3.

A 3-0 away win. We don't do that often. A most agreeable evening at Gresty Road.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Duke; Doyle, Turner, Brown, Delaney; Garcia, Livermore, Featherstone, Elliott; Bridges, McPhee.  Subs: Ricketts (for Brown, 75), Marney (for Garcia, 76), Ashbee (for Bridges, 84), Windass, Myhill.

Goals: Bridges 44; Garcia 55; McPhee 70

Booked: Doyle

Sent Off: None

CREWE ALEXANDRA: Williams, Woodards, McCready, Baudet, Jones, Moore, Rix, Roberts, Schumacher, Miller, Pope.  Subs: Bopp (for Schumacher, 71), Carrington (for Moore, 75), Tomlinson, Cox, O'Donnell.

Goals: None

Booked: Roberts

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:  P Miller

ATTENDANCE: 2,862