Four weeks after a Cup defeat, City return to Plymouth's Home Park and grind out a valuable one-nil victory courtesy of Dean Windass's shin. 

Report by Mark Gretton.

Sometimes you get a reminder of how far we’ve come. As I opened up my notebook at Plymouth I realised that, rushing out of the house at about 6.30am that morning, I had grabbed an old book that had seen service some time ago and then had got shoved forgotten to the back of a drawer. Sufficiently old, in fact, that the first time I’d used it had been another tiger-era. Remember the season after the playoff defeat by Orient? An influx of players under a new owner promising and delivering investment, a manager who had been required to make bricks from straw the previous campaign now able to bring in the players he wanted and the team, accompanied by massive expectation from the terraces, expected to go onwards and upwards as we visited divisional rivals that were anticipated to be competent but not alarming. Yes, it was a September evening in 2001, Brian Little and Adam Pearson were in charge and on the terraces we really did feel we were going places. And then dear old homely Bloody Rubbish Mansfield battered us 4-2 at Field Mill, my notebook showing increasingly desperate scribbles recording such as ‘Mohan skinned again,’ ’Holt nowhere,’ and ‘Greeenace 1 on 1 with Glennon again, scrambled away.’ Yes, it was a startling stuffing after a blistering start and that season’s first reality check, a reality that ended with us tumbling down the league and having used 3 different managers by the end of the campaign as paradise was postponed once again.

Happily, the obvious parallels only go so far. Anyone wondering if recent talk of playoffs would be blown away by determined opponents can be reassured by Saturday. It wasn’t a thing of beauty, but this team increasingly looks as though it knows what it’s for and how it will do it. In contrast to Matt Glennon chucking his substantial frame heroically about – lest we forget, the chubby custodian had an outstanding night all those years ago and had he not Mansfield might have doubled their tally – Bo Myhill was well-protected throughout and was required to produce just one trademark save as we gradually squeezed the life out of the game. Very satisfying.

Making the 700 mile round trip well worthwhile were:

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Brown Pedersen
Garcia Ashbee Walton Hughes
Windass Campbell

So a few surprises straight away, Marney not even making the bench following his dismal showing on Tuesday, righteous preacher man Caleb Folan, despite his match-winning introduction against Coventry, still required to sit and wait and Pedersen getting an unexpected chance to show that he is part of our defensive cover.

And defend we did, pretty much from the outset, as Plymouth looked brisk and businesslike amongst the early scrappy exchanges and even had the ball in the net just in front of us following one of Halmosi’s wickedly whipped corners. The whistle went very early so there was no danger but, amusingly, the over-excitable announcer hit the button and we got the celebratory music blasted out for the requisite time as the home fans slumped and we guffawed.

But it woke us up and our midfield, the impressive Walton prominent, started to get the ball down and dictate terms. A throw in produced a spell of pressure that ended when the ball fell invitingly for Campbell who took too long to control it, allowing McCormick to save well. Then falsetto-voiced winger Garcia ran well and crossed even weller, but no-one could get into the business area. We had the control, but we weren’t creating too much, and when we did we lacked a bit of bite, Campbell again not making the most of a good position at the near post, surprisingly scuffing a chance where we have got used to see him do a lot better. But his pace and vision were in evidence a couple of minutes later as he dropped deep and laid off skilfully to Windass, Dean flashing a shot just the wrong side.

This had been a good spell, but Plymouth were involving themselves in the game too. Rory Fallon, presumably the only man in Plymouth to wear a merry smile at the recent departures of both Barry Hayles and Sylvan Ebanks-Blake was starting to enjoy himself at Wayne Brown’s expense, bouncing him around and linking well with newbie ex-Scunt and Sheff Wed striker Steve McClean. This produced a flurry of dangerous corners from Halmosi; he doesn’t seem to do variety, all are curled in wickedly under the crossbar at pace, so you know what you’re going to get but you still have to stop it. From a central position he showed he could hit a decent free kick too, though happily for us it was the sunny side of the post. But encouragingly, though we creaked a bit at times, we didn’t buckle and these days we have breakaway options, Campbell bombing upfield after one clearance and this time getting off a crisp shot that was beaten away.

Nevertheless, as half-time approached we were undoubtedly on the backfoot and grateful when another Plym attack broke down after a clumsy foul on Pedersen. Whilst the tiger faithful were still moaning about this, the players were doing something more constructive, Campbell sweeping it wide for Ricketts to overlap and cross well for Dean to score at the far post. If I ever look back at my notes for this game 7 years on I’ll read that Deano ‘bundled’ it in and I’ll remember that’s my catch all term for the ball entering the net at the far end without me or any of my immediate circle being entirely sure how it got there. At half-time, which followed immediately, when I tried to show to a number of younger tiger watchers what I thought had gone on they hooted with laughter and I realised my foot movements resembled those of a fat middle-aged man having stepped in dog shit trying to remove it by scraping one foot against the other as well as on the kerb whilst nearly wobbling over. In fairness, when I saw the goal on TV later, I hadn’t been too wide of the mark. Not a crisp finish, then, but it did the trick and, having been undoubtedly under the hammer, we were ahead.

Plymouth don’t seem to be completely at ease with themselves at the moment. They are established at this level but, not unlike ourselves, remote from all but minnow neighbours (for Torquay and Exeter read Scunthorpe and York) and they seem unsure whether to settle for what they have or to press on for Premiership fool’s gold. The slightly desperate signs are there; the aforementioned music after goals real or imagined; the crowd designated officially as the squad’s number 12, so important are ‘Green Army’ to the club, apparently; the programme full of teeth-achingly chummy references to manager ‘Luggy’ Sturrock and trumpeting the new signings (and in fairness McClean, assuming he has put his Cardiff injury problems behind him, should be a good one) whilst, Pravda-like, ignoring the stream of talent that has run out of the club this month past. ‘Green Army’ didn’t seem to be buying it; long before the end some of it had seen enough and was moseying off not bothering to join in with other bits singing ‘what a load of rubbish.’ And they have the usual hysterical announcer, screaming at us at the start of the second half to welcome ‘The Best in the West!!!!.’ We ignored that, and sat down to watch the Beast from the East draw its lips back into a snarl and defend what it had gained.

For this is now our sort of game, the opposition required to come on to us so we can sit back and exploit the spaces that develop. They hit a shot wide, then we found Windass who produced a beautiful layoff for Campbell who unaccountably cocked it up again. Then Dean himself hesitated, perhaps waiting for an offside flag that never came and again our striker got more of the ground than the ball. Ricketts once again overlapped energetically and crossed beautifully, Campbell’s header was blocked and broke for Walton who slammed a shot that had us all airborne but just went past the upright. Deano and Campbell were enjoying the room and our defence was a mite comfier too as Fallon was unexpectedly withdrawn, an expression of dismay completely failing to cross Wayne Brown’s face at this point. Plymouth were getting the ball but couldn’t work out what to do with it; as we compressed the game one short pass wide was hit with the force of a goal kick into the stands to the sound of yokellish grumbles.

Campbell got free again, one on one and again produced an uncharacteristically banging touch before controlling and regrouping to feed Garcia only after the defence had scuttled back. That was enough for the manager who withdrew Campbell for Folan who also seemingly had been injected with the clumsy drug, taking an age to line up a fine Hughes through ball and allowing the Plyms to clear. Dean’s afternoon came to an end too, but not until he had won a wrestling match with Kouo-Doumbe, pulling the poor chap’s ear mercilessly in full view of the amused away support but on the blind side of the ref. Nicky came on too and buzzed about with characteristic intelligence, finding time at one point to get Kouo-Doumbe in another headlock. Quite an afternoon for the Frenchman, getting a playground roughing up from two separate Hull City legends, although he didn’t look pleased about it at the time. And thus we survived to the end without too much difficulty, although Myhill once had to show his great virtue of being able to concentrate enough through quieter periods to produce a very good save low to his left near the end. Custodian of the leather.

A thoroughly satisfactory result then, and a solid performance that might, had the strikers brought their shooting boots, have been more eye-catching. We’re hardly a masterful team but, as we survey the division from 8th place, we don’t look falsely placed. Walton was strong in midfield and impressive getting forward in support and Pedersen I thought looked completely at home in a first left back start, never causing the defence to lose it’s shape. Whether we are good enough to push on, we’ll see, but there doesn’t seem any reason why we should suffer a season 2001-02 meltdown. Partly of course because we no longer have the truly terrifying left-sided defensive partnership of Andy Holt and Nicky Mohan, but also because the entire team looks organised and purposeful. All still to play for.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Pedersen; Garcia, Walton, Ashbee, Hughes; Campbell, Windass.  Subs: Folan (for Windass, 78), Barmby (for Campbell, 84), France (for Garcia, 89), Okocha, Tyler.

Goals: Windass 45

Booked: Walton

Sent Off: None

PLYMOUTH ARGYLE: McCormick, Connolly, Timar, Doumbe, Sawyer, Clark, Summerfield, Nalis, Halmosi, MacLean, Fallon.  Subs: Abdou (for Summerfield, 56), Easter (for Fallon, 56), Jutkiewicz (for Clark, 79), Hodges, Mackie.

Goals: None

Booked: Timar

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:  P Armstrong

ATTENDANCE: 11,011