The Tigers are initially lethargic after a two week break but are subsequently rampant as they claim a point at home to a well organised QPR side.

Report by Ian Thomson.

It's often said that a reliable sign of a team destined for success is the ability to pull results out of the bag late in the game. Remember our second promotion season under Taylor, when we finished runners-up to a Luton team who seemed to scrape late winners almost every week (including against us)? Or, for the TigChatters of more advancing years, the way in which the Liverpool of Bob Paisley and Joe Fagan dominated English and European football for years on the back of goals scored in the last five minutes of matches?

Well, maybe that's something we should think about as we reflect on City's late, late show at the Circle yesterday afternoon. We experienced it with Folan's lob against Coventry and his late winner at the Hawthorns which seems, looking back, to have been the catalyst for the run which has defined our season so far, Turner's equaliser against Stoke comes to mind too, and add in our defensive maestro's injury-time equaliser against the Hoops (plus a couple I've no doubt forgotten) and it all adds up to a fair number of points garnered for the Tiger tally this season, without which we'd be very much looking up at the point in the table where we now currently stand.

Clutching at straws? Happy-clappyism? An attempt to find something positive to say about an afternoon which was, to say the least, a bit of come-down after steamrollering the opposition in barnstorming style on no less than four consecutive occasions? I genuinely, despite being as cynical and hard-bitten as City fans come, do not think so. Let's face it, despite the rather silly pronouncements to the contrary of those who think football first came to Hull in 2003 and have crawled back out of the woodwork since about the Leicester game, we were never going to win all our remaining fixtures, and even in a good run there will always be the odd off-day or game when it just doesn't happen for us. And on those days, it's important to find the resilience and backbone to get something out of the game. We've had these games before, the best example being the home defeat by Northampton at a similar stage of the first promotion season under Taylor, and, as disappointing as they may be, they neither make us a bad side nor signal the kiss of death to our promotion aspirations.

Admittedly, it was on paper at least arguably the easiest of the five games we had left, but as we have seen in this Division the form book has meant diddly-squat this season. Certainly the West Londoners gave us the sternest test - in terms of their physical strength and organisation - that we have faced for a few weeks now. It seems to be coming together a bit for them under Jack de Manio and their shady crew of "investors", and one senses that if they have an untroubled close season and a bit more soiled cash is tossed into the Loftus Road coffers, they could be a force to be reckoned with next season, if perhaps not the prettiest team to watch.

All of that said, it really was shoot-yourself-in-the-foot day for us, the blame for which has to be laid fairly and squarely at the door of the midfield. Someone (can't remember who and can't be arsed to check back) said on here last night that if Ash plays well City play well. True enough, but from where I'm sitting even more true of Marney. A good deal of the credit for our recent surge up the table can be attributed to the sterling work of our midfield - and especially the central two - as the connective tissue between our rock-solid, parsimonious defence and our skilful, high-tempo attack, melding the whole XI into a formidable unit by any standards, but they both had an absolute stinker yesterday. Marney - for me the worst offender because, as usual, you couldn't fault Ash for his effort - simply went missing for long spells and was bloody lucky to stay on the pitch, in fact he probably wouldn't have but for an apparent injury to Garcia. QPR are a big outfit at the back (to the extent that young Damien at left back - no waster he - looked the slightest of the lot of them), and yet for much of the game - in fact until Hughesie came on for Garcia - there was no attempt to reproduce any of the slick passing and running that has traumatised opposition defences in recent weeks, and time and again balls were simply lumped up aimlessly towards Campbell and Deano (who didn't seem to fancy it at all much yesterday and had probably his least effectual game since re-donning the black and amber), invariably to be gobbled up by the hulking behooped defenders.

Add to that a number of below-par individual performances (Pedersen was less effective than of late, Daws played like the fourth division defender he used to be, Brown looked as though he was still feeling his recent calf injury) and we looked very much like a team that hadn't played for a fortnight, an observation borne out by the fact that there was certainly more cohesion (and, for that matter, effective football) in the later stages of the game, to the point where it wouldn't have been unreasonable to conclude that if the match could have continued for say a quarter of an hour after Turner's equaliser we would probably have notched a winner. Whether this was all down to having too much time to brood over the promotion race, or mere understandable rustiness from a squad shorter on recent match practice than its opponents is a question for debate, but either way Barnsley owe us a favour on Tuesday.

Anyway, whatever the reason, the end result was an affair very light on excitement and thrills compared with recent games, but once again the results were, thankfully, kind to us. There's a point of view that says that it woild have suited us better if Stoke had been held or had lost at Cov and West Brom had beaten Watford, but it could have been a lot worse. The current good run from Palace is no bad thing either in my book, as firstly they ought not to be a threat us unless we really blow up (in fact a point a game should see us safe from them), and their late tilt at the play-offs will certainly ring-fence far more than its fair share of the media coverage of the Championship, thereby reducing the intrusions of the press and TV into our own efforts and letting us get on with the job in peace.

So all in all, a point gained in all the circumstances, and no real harm done by our not winning. Shall we talk about the game?

The weather was on the nippy side but fine (in fact the sun on my face through the train window on the journey up was actually a bit much if truth be told, and I'm pleased I put my photocromic specs on even if they do make me look a bit sinister) apart from one cloudy spell in the second half , and the rain kept off during the game. We kicked off playing as usual towards the towards the North Stand, one half of which was occupied by not many more than half the 1,300 fans that the Londoners had boasted they were bringing (in an overall healthy crowd of 22,468), and we lined up as we had started against Watford:-

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Brown Dawson
Garcia Ashbee Marney Pedersen
Windass Campbell

The opening ten minutes or so were tentative, no real openings being created at either end, and the tenseness of the game spread palpably to the crowd, my notes telling me that a chant of "Come on, City" - often a sign of apprehension or impatience - was raised a mere eight minutes in. A minute on and in our first proper attack Deano turns and hits one after Ash and Ricketts had combined, but the flag's up for Pedersen. Our visitors seem happy to restart the game after each interruption in a somewhat leisurely manner, and continue to do so throughout the afternoon, but then unexpectedly find themselves in front on 13. As Delaney goes to ground in attempt to block a Ricketts ball he appears to handle the leather, but referee Laws is unimpressed, the ball ricochets forward, Sam is caught out of position and QPR break. Now, the QPR team, when announced before the game, contained the names of a few individuals who have been a thorn in the side of the Tiger in days of yore, and two of them, Ephraim and Blackstock, cemented their places on the list, as Ephraim, in yards of space due to Ricketts being caught out, crosses low, Brown lunges a tad rashly and diverts the leather at speed towards Boaz, who blocks the ball but can't collect, Blackstock gets a stab at it from almost point-blank range, Daws shovels it away....but the West Stand linesman signals a goal. Now I sit in the centre of the East Stand and haven't a bloody clue as to whether the ball crossed the line or not, and it seems clear from reading around this morning that opinions are divided, but, whether it was or wasn't over the line, a dreadfully unlucky goal to concede, a spell of twelve seconds or in which about six things went wrong for us.

Worse still, we show no sign of taking the game by the scruff of the neck, and there's little to report on until 21 minutes, when Myhill makes a brave and decisive punch to clear our lines after a Hoops corner had been headed dangerously on. There's a flicker of hope though three minutes later, when Deano wins a free in a dangerous position just outside the D. Daws steps up and delivers a shot which looks good, but the diving Camp - known in the QPR dressing room as "Nudist", and sporting a bizarre-looking pair of black thigh-socks - at full stretch tips the leather over the bar. Fine save.

If we thought that that would spur the Tigs into life, though, we were very wrong. Perhaps I can convey the general picture by simply reproducing verbatim my notes from this spell of the game: "We are dreadful . Not contesting anything.....Every ball shinned, skied, sliced or spannered. Not attempting to play on the floor." Add to that the fact that the piece of paper on which I was writing was by now, I suddenly realised, sporting teeth-marks and you will hopefully understand what an exasperating spell of the game this was.

Again, a brief glimmer of hope on 32. Campbell, doing his best but starved of proper service, is pulled down as he attempts to turn in the box, but instead of going down (an omission which, if performed before his Club manager, would doubtless have earned him the hairdryer treatment), gets his shot in only for it to be deflected away. This isn't a sign of better things to come either, though, and to the point where the leading name on the Prozone stats is probably the ball-boy who sprays a beautiful 35-yarder to Pedersen after 36 minutes. My notes now tell me this is Dolan stuff.

And so the half peters forlornly out. A sizeable minority of fans boo the team at half time, which is fuckwittery on a grand scale, but it was nevertheless the worst 45 minutes - by a country mile - that we have had to endure this side of Christmas.

Talking of fuckwittery, why were some freaks signing the moronic "Ingerlund, Ingerlund" song sporadically throughout the game?

Into the second half, and you sense that there's more effort from City although still very much of the thud and blunder variety: frustrating, as you sense that the Hoops, timewasting and feigning injury with increasing audacity, might struggle if we can crank it up a bit.

Garcia is replaced by Hughes, and then we have a chance of sorts on 58 following a foul on Ricketts. Campbell heads the resultant free-kick back into the middle, only for it to fall to the hapless Marney, who with tiresome predictability launches the leather into Row T.

Folan comes on for the ineffective Pedersen (goodness knows how it wasn't Marney) and we appear to go 4-3-3. Whether this is a symptom of genius or desperation is a moot point, but Hughes is doing a good job by moving around, looking for openings and actually playing the ball to feet, and at least by now the game is being played mostly in the away half. On 64 Camp has to react quickly to keep a Hughes header away from the marauding Campbell, and then the Scouse midfielder makes space well and crosses for Fraizer to head but there's little power behind it and Camp saves. We then win another free on the edge of the box on 73, Deano's effort being accurately struck but straight at Camp. Another minute on, and we go really close when following a Windass challenge the ball falls to Campbell, who looks as though he has miscontrolled it at first, but recovers well and fires a shot into the side-netting so convincingly that it confuses the less observant into heralding a goal.

It's all us now, but we seem to be lacking that vital shot of penetration. Still, the attacks keep coming thick and fast. On 77 Folan and Ash combine to set up Ricketts, who skies the ball wastefully and so inaccurately that it's difficult to tell just exactly what he was trying to do. There are appeals for a penalty on 79 as Campbell goes down, rightly waved aside by Mr Laws, and then two minutes later Folan - whose presence has made a measurable difference - heads a Ricketts cross towards Campbell, whose goal-bound header unluckily strikes Cam on the arm. The QPR custodian then deservedly incurs the ire of the Circle faithful by going down as if poleaxed after coming out of his box to challenge Campbell (who is visibly furious at this blatant play-acting) but immediately makes a miraculous recovery.

The 90 minutes are up, Campbell is inevitably voted KCFM man-of-the-match by the people who never attend City games but can tell you exactly and in full detail where City are going wrong by virtue of quickly snatching a glimpse of the scores on Teletext while shopping for a kettle in Comet, and there are five minutes' injury time. But before the first of those is up, parity reigns. Turner - along with Myhill and Maybe Ricketts and Campbell the only members of the starting to be exempted from any real criticism yesterday - finds Folan on the right. Our million-pound man cleverly draws Delaney out wide, then steers a low cross behind him and also behind most men in the box, leaving Turner, astutely following up unmarked, to sidefoot the ball almost nonchalantly just inside the far post.

Not only that, but it could have been all three points, as a Fagan (whose comparative ineffectuality shows just how far City have come in a short time) cross is headed by Folan into the path of the unmarked Campbell, who miscues his volley slightly and allows Camp to collect.

So there we are. Not a good day at the races, but not a disaster either. We're as much in hunt as we were at 2.55 yesterday, so there's still every reason to be cheerful. But maybe not as cheerful as the rowdily-jubilant throng of Villa fans who were waiting at Derby to board the Birmingham-bound train from which we were alighting on our way home.

Wonder what Adam's thinking now?

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Dawson; Garcia, Ashbee, Marney, Pedersen; Campbell, Windass.  Subs: Hughes (for Garcia, 54), Folan (for Pedersen, 61), Fagan (for Windass, 75), France, Duke.

Goals: Turner 90

Booked: Fagan

Sent Off: None

QUEENS PARK RANGERS: Camp, Mancienne, Stewart, Hall, Delaney, Ephraim, Ainsworth, Mahon, Rowlands, Blackstock, Agyemang.  Subs: Leigertwood (for Blackstock, 55), Balanta (for Agyemang, 80), Connolly (for Ainsworth, 89), Pickens, Lee.

Goals: Blackstock 14

Booked: Camp, Leigertwood, Rowlands

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:   G Laws

ATTENDANCE: 22,468