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The Tigers wobble in South Wales as Cardiff score early and defend a lead, City having a collective off-day. Report by Steve Weatherill. |
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It was always likely that a midweek slog to Ninian Park would attract our smallest travelling support of the season, and so it proved last night. A smattering of 250 or so intrepid souls made their way to blustery South Wales hoping to witness a repeat of last season's unforgettable finale. But didn't. It says something (deeply unappealing and elitist) about my personality that I always hope that the longer, less well-attended treks will throw up games or at least incidents that will lie basking in the memory for years to come, thereby to punish the flaky stop-at-homes, but last night those who preferred their sofas, duvets and alehouses had the better of the bargain. This was a disappointing game, and probably our worst performance of calendar year 2008. We weren't exactly poor - in fact we had the better of the possession overall and shared the (few) goalscoring chances - but we never played with fluency and from start to finish there wasn't a single incisive attacking move of the type we've been serving up with regularity lately. And so the home side, having taken the lead in the first minute, were able to challenge us to break them open. A challenge unmet. Not quite getting it right under the gaze of Brains beer and Brace's bread, and to the sound of Clarks pies being munched: Myhill As last Saturday, then, with Okocha and Folan both serving game 2 of a 3 match ban and Windass still unavailable because of injury. Off we go, a mild evening of gusting wind, though with nothing so severe as the buffeting that had doomed the afternoon's racing at Cheltenham, and a boisterous atmosphere to greet two teams both whose seasons could climax at Wembley, though not in the same match. And Cardiff score. Ball into the box from their left, a deft first touch, McPhail swivels and cracks a powerful left-foot volley up and over the stranded Myhill and in off the underside of the crossbar. This was that ol' familiar 'up the other end so don't trust me on this', but my immediate reaction was that this was a brilliantly executed strike. The defending could helpfully have been more aggressive, but the finish was very high class. The view expressed around me on the Ninian Park terraces was rather different, I should confess. 'Lucky', was the curmudgeonly verdict. Though not mine. A minute gone, we're one down. We have, however, recovered from deficit often enough lately. But if an equaliser is on its way, it'll take its time. The game steadies, the Tigs come back into it and begin to enjoy the better of the possession, but shooting opportunities are confined to long and frankly over-ambitious punts of a type that could usefully have been binned underneath the Cheltenham debris. And, on 12, a ghastly mix-up between Myhill and Wayne Brown almost gifts Cardiff a second goal. We escape at the expense of a corner. Our midfield is panting, second best most of the time. Possession, when acquired, is lost, too often as a result of an aimless hoof forward. Campbell, starved of service, was right to feel and look exasperated. Meanwhile, Craig 'the Cobra' Fagan strutted about with little intent and less menace. He was wearing orange boots. Bright, shiny, fresh out of the box orange boots. If you're going to tart yourself up to stand out from the crowd, you really need to make sure your talent soars above that of the herd too. Fagan's dress and demeanour last night spoke of a man secure in his self-belief that he is, after all, a Premiership footballer, one of pace, verve, glittering ability and sporadic genius. The statistics suggest otherwise, as do his persistent inability to beat a man, provide a decent cross or slip his marker inside the box. Dress out of the ordinary and you're going to look a bit daft if you are, after all, merely ordinary. Craig Fagan is football's Billy Idol. Brown off - injured, I suppose - Clement on. Not good, we thought. Yet we embarked on a spell of dominating possession which, again, lacked shots on target apt to trouble Enckelman. On 36 Campbell sets up Garcia, whose left foot shot is defected wide. On 38 Dawson advances in support, but, fed an astute pass, fires wide from the edge of the box. Then on 43, Ricketts, taunted all evening for his Swansea connections, ripped in from the right, slicing the home defence open, but his low shot is straight at Enckelman and easily pouched, while Campbell in space near the penalty spot and desperate for a square ball wheels away in disgust. Two added minutes conclude the half, and at the very end a horrible error by Turner offers an inviting shooting chance to a Card, but, surprised, the homester sweeps his shot over the top of the goal. At half-time the feeling matched that at Norwich last month, when we were similarly one down and dismayed after a largely tepid display. We needed to treat the ball with more care, we needed to pass our way back into the game. At Carrow Road, we had Okocha, and we did clamber our way back to a deserved point. Last night it didn't happen. Though we did make a change at half-time. Fagan changed his boots. Less brash, the new ones. My, the things they teach them in the Premiership. 15 seconds into the second half, and a sweeping move by us involving Campbell, Fagan, Pedersen and Dawson culminates in Ashbee smearing an inviting volleying opportunity well wide of the post. That's a pity, but it is quickly evident that the right things have been said in the dressing-room at half-time. We are trying to pass to feet, and to get the midfield to support the frontmen better. Admittedly 45 minutes late, but better late than ... We are in control of the possession for a while, but, as in the first period, there is little creativity. It's a while since we have looked so far adrift of incisive, and there is negligible penalty area action. Cardiff, backed by the faintly menacing Men of Harlech and other 'Welsh team back in the Cup semifinals for the first time in 80 years' buoyancy, are impressively sturdy in defence. It'll take better than we're able to offer to break them down. Campbell, denied by a defensive toe-end as he bursts into the box on 55, is straining hard, Fagan isn't really, but the midfield generally is disappointing. Marney's inconsistency is as baffling as it is frustrating. There was little to like about his minimal impact last night. And Garcia hasn't looked fully fit, and certainly not as forceful going forward as he was over Christmas and New Year, since he returned from his family duties in Australia. Ashbee did as much as he could last night but when it is our sainted but limited skipper who is charged with primary responsibility for trying to pick out the defence-splitting chipped through ball, you know we're toiling. Andrea Pirlo he is not. Campbell off, fit-again Hughes on. Pedersen joins the Cobra up front. A shade reluctantly, I felt. Trevor Sinclair, good against us for Blackpool once and joint-winner with Danny Mills at the 2002 World Cup of the 'how come that thudding blunderer actually looks quite good?' award (previous winners Paul Parker and Mark Wright in 1990), forces his way into our box but boots the ball high over the bar. On 75 we defend sloppily and it takes a fingertip intervention by Myhill to push a shot by Stevie Thomson round the far post. We might have more of the ball but although a second goal in the game looks unlikely it's Cardiff who are coming closer to grabbing it. We are just not creative enough. Last night, I mean. Not generally. It's been a season rich in creativity. Just not last night. 90 are up, 3 are added. And then it is time to go home. Never fear. We are better than this. Though last night suggested that the Play Offs will be reached only if we get everyone back rarin' to go from suspension and injury. |
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HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Dawson; Garcia, Ashbee, Marney, Pedersen; Campbell, Fagan. Subs: Clement (for Brown, 24), Hughes (for Campbell, 68), Walton, France, Tyler. Goals: None Booked: Turner Sent Off: None
CARDIFF CITY: Enckelman, McNaughton, Loovens, Johnson, Capaldi, Whittingham, McPhail, Scimeca, Sinclair, Parry, Thompson. Subs: Ledley (for McNaughton, 42), Rae (for Scimeca, 62), Feeney (for Parry, 90), Oakes, Purse. Goals: McPhail 2 Booked: Capaldi, Loovens, Scimeca Sent Off: None
REFEREE: L Probert ATTENDANCE: 17,555 |
Last revised: March 21, 2008