A rampant Tigers disect Burnley with aplomb and score two first half goals to seal the points, before some mad bad reffing reduces the game to nine a side.

Report by Mark Gretton.

And so it continues, this season that promised so little, to deliver so much. Last night it gave us the best 45 minutes of football we’ve produced since we’ve been back in this division, a half in which we simply blew away a side with an away record second only to Watford’s in this league, a half in which we scored two, missed loads and wrapped up the game. Which was really just as well, as we then saw one of the oddest few minutes of refereeing we’ll see anytime, anywhere. The sendings off of Folan and Okocha may yet prove a further twist on our season, but more of that later. We were a treat to watch last night, we’re back in 8th place, remarkably a playoff place is still there for the taking. Warming some seriously chilled marrow on a very crisp evening were:

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Brown Dawson
Garcia Ashbee Okocha Pedersen
Folan Campbell

So no surprises there, Marney having stunk up Ashton Gate for an hour or so on Saturday got to sit down again, Jay-Jay getting a deserved start and Turner, despite bizarre rumours from the BBC website that really should know better, restored ahead of Clement. Of more concern was the fact that we no strikers on the bench, a situation that did not diminish in importance as the game progressed. We attacked the North Stand populated by maybe a 1000 grim Pennine folk who had made the pilgrimage, if not to seek a better life, at least to enviously press their noses up against the window and see how a better life is lived. And they were able to get excited early on when a Dawson blunder let them in down our right only for the Burnsters to screw a show wide. Then just prior to half time they got in a weak shot that Myhill pouched with no difficulty. That was Burnley’s first half in its entirety. The rest of the time their fans were treated, and I use the term advisedly as I would certainly have liked the vantage point of seeing wave after wave of tigerish attacking rolling towards me, to the best view of us ripping their team to bits. Sadly the Lancastrians seemed remarkably ungrateful considering the show we were putting on.

Campbell and Folan were terrifying them with their pace and brio and Garcia and Okocha were a joy, Garcia showing his downbeat Bristol effort was behind him as early as the second minute when he shimmied through their defence and shot just wide. Folan should have had a brace in the first 5 minutes, as first Campbell skipped free and set up his big strike partner and then moments later was fouled after a penetrating run, the freekick following this running away from the God-fearin’ Folan. The big lad doesn’t seem to have been able to locate his shooting boots over the past couple of games and you wonder if this is preying on him a bit and affecting his confidence. This is not, I can reveal, a problem afflicting Fraizer Campbell. Another run from the boy was halted by a desperate hack from the panicking Burnley central defenders and Okocha put the ball onto the roof of the net from the freekick. Young Fraizer was perhaps tiring of people cocking up his work so on 13 minutes he picked up the ball wide on the left, jinked, sidestepped and cut in thrillingly towards the goal before firing off a shot that was dangerous but not lethal. But step forward Brian Jensen, the keeper who is currently preferred to pantalooned buffoon Gabor Kiraly. Actually Jensen might have done better had he stepped forward, instead of diving lamely and allowing the ball to squirt under him and just ahead of the scrambling defence. Kiraly must have done something unspeakably dreadful recently to be second choice to that.

We didn’t mind, for we were now watching Jay-Jay show lesser footballers as well as 16000 onlookers what the game can be like if you have a sublime talent. He picked the ball up deep and dribbled, he laid it off well and ran for the return pass, he played succulent passes with instep or outstep at will, he fired in shots. He picked up one ball just in their half, twisted and turned away from three panting Burneys and lashed it into the path of Campbell forty yards away, an absolute honey of a pass, the sort of pass that doesn’t just make you think, ‘Phwooar, look at the work on that,’ more a sort of a ‘One day I’ll marry that, settle down, love and nurture it as it deserves’ sort of pass. If you see what I mean. Young Campbell lost no time in dealing with something so gorgeous dropping invitingly and spreading itself archly across his right thigh and immediately screwed it. Wide, unfortunately.

A second goal duly arrived, Garcia picked up the ball, ran forward a few yards as the defence retreated in panic looking for Okocha only to realise they’d been duped as the falsetto-voiced Aussie lashed it in from 25 yards, a fabulous strike. Jensen had no chance with this one and that was 2-0 and game over. Not that anyone had told our boys. Okocha put through Folan 1 on 1 but an over hefty first touch allowed Jensen to get to it. Then Ricketts put in Campbell who got a good flick to it but again Jensen did well. Okocha, beautifully supported by Ricketts, Garcia and Ashbee relishing the chance to go forward at back-pedalling defenders, continued to run the game. Our strikers should have made more of what was created notably when Garcia split the defence so Campbell was once more one on one and had so much time that he had the opportunity to try to line it up with first left foot then right before realising that he’s actually not struck it with either. No matter, it was half-time, we’d killed them and, in truth, we’d killed the game too. It was a shame the interval had to come.

The second half started predictably, Burnley out very quickly as though to escape Manager Coyle’s tirade, or just possibly because his team talk had been brief and on the lines of ‘fuck off back out there and don’t let them keep doing that to you.” If so they looked like they’d taken notice, they trundled forwards and got a corner and we suddenly remembered that they had two noteworthy predators upfront in Andrew Cole and Ade Akinbiyi. Fortunately both were reminding fans of a certain age that they have had times when they were a little bit pants, Cole playing like he did at ManU when he only ever scored if Sheringham or Cantona set him up 2 feet out from an open goal, Akinbiyi reprising his Leicester role as Peter Taylor’s Worst Ever Signing, a crown he kept until Taylor one day decided that Steve Melton was the answer to our midfield problem. Not that they were the worst on show, Kyle ‘Laughable’ Lafferty had been particularly appalling and he was the one to get the hook when Robbie Blake made his inevitable introduction.

Not that it made much difference, as were about to see the Mike Riley show. Riley has presumably heard the idea that if the referee has not been noticed then he’s had a good game but clearly has no truck with it. I thought he’d done well up to this point, keeping play moving and letting the crowd watch the players not the officials. He’d undoubtedly let stuff go, both Folan and Campbell had been kicked by Steven Caldwell and elderly fat-arsed git David Unsworth on the few occasions they had got near them. It’s hard not to think that this bothered the miss-firing Folan more than Campbell and the big man perhaps sought his own retribution. But Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and bible-totin’ Caleb should remember that you don’t fuck with the Lord on that sort of thing. Anyway, following more good Garcia work that resulted in a corner we all saw Caldwell lying down in the area. I had no idea how he had got there but the referee was in no doubt and Folan was given the gate. Caldwell was then given a yellow, I couldn’t say why.

Given that we are always told how difficult it is to play against 10 men, I watched hopeful that we might hit double figures but sadly Riley evened it up almost immediately. Campbell high-stepped across the half-way line and brushed faintly against Caldwell before falling over. There didn’t seem to be a lot in it but Caldwell knew the way of the wind and was already wandering off as Riley ran towards him brandishing a second yellow.

The man in the middle was only just playing himself in. In Burnley’s only real chance of the night Cole headed against the bar and the ball was scrambled away for a corner. As everyone jostled for position we saw a Turf-ite lying prone. Okocha was stood over him and Riley presumably had not seen it as he rushed over to his linesman for advice, said linesman, given that he had not flagged, having presumably not seen it either. So, predictably, following their hurried conversation, Okocha got our second straight red. The fun still wasn’t over as Joey Gudjonsson got a second yellow, perhaps for moaning that they should have a penalty – as the ball was out for a corner I think the referee was right not to give that, but I may be wrong about that - perhaps for laughing out loud at the fun of it all. I didn’t think Gudjonsson had been the player fouled, who undoubtedly and mystifyingly had received a yellow, but again I may be wrong about this as it was getting a little hard to keep up. But 9 v 9 it now was, rare enough anyway, but four sendings off in four separate incidents is new to me. Perhaps Riley got them all right. But to referee one half as though you’re going to let the game flow and then one half as though you’re going to jump on every transgression you spy is unfair and incompetent. And stupid. There was not a bad tackle in the game. It’s remarkable to think that Folan and Okocha will get the same punishment as Martin Taylor for a tackle that could not only have ended Eduardo’s career, it could also have ended his time as a man with a foot attached to the end of each leg.

We reorganised and Pederson had a spell upfront before getting a nasty looking knock that caused him to limp off and then remarkably had Walton upfront for a few minutes, something that clearly encouraged Wayne Brown who enjoyed one merry gallop forwards, exchanging passes with some of the few remaining players still representing us. In truth the game was over, ended by four sendings off in about 7 minutes and neither side really looked like they new what to do with it as it limped to a close.

Despite the referee’s Premiership preening this was a good night when we chewed up and spat out a good side, registering another double. And I think we’ll be alright for Saturday, too. Assuming Deano is fit, he and Marney will come in and make up the pair that caused the Scunts to gibber with fear a few months ago and if Pederson recovers from his knock then I can’t see us coming to harm. I’m aware there’s a few ifs there, none more iffy than Marney’s form pretty much since his Scunthorpe mid-field masterclass. And we’ve suddenly got a lot of games and very few available strikers.

But that’s for another day. This was great stuff. You’d not want to miss any of it at the moment. I’ll see you there for more of the same on Saturday.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Dawson; Garcia, Ashbee, Okocha, Pedersen; Campbell, Folan.  Subs: France (for Campbell, 79), Marney (for Garcia, 81), Walton (for Pedersen, 89), Clement, Tyler.

Goals: Campbell 14; Garcia 28

Booked: Ashbee, Garcia

Sent Off: Folan, Okocha

BURNLEY: Jensen, Alexander, Carlisle, Caldwell, Unsworth, Elliott, O'connor, McCann, Lafferty, Akinbiyi, Cole.  Subs: Gudjonsson (for McCann, 33), Blake (for Lafferty, 54), Randall (for O'Connor, 71), Kiraly, Varga.

Goals: None

Booked: Caldwell, Carlisle, Gudjonsson

Sent Off: Caldwell, Gudjonsson

REFEREE:   M Riley

ATTENDANCE: 15,838