The much-anticipated wobble finally arrives and inevitably it is Bramall Lane that witnesses the Tigers capitulating meekly against the ten men of Sheffield United and damaging their chance of automatic promotion.  Nevertheless results elsewhere guarantee a ticket to the play-off party.

Report by Mark Gretton.

Oooh, dear. This was hard to take. Another defeat at nasty old Sheffield United. Those who witnessed it can talk about the Battle of Bramall Lane as much as they like, but it hardly serves to camouflage the fact that this has been a tremendously unhappy hunting ground for us subsequently. And so it proved again, with the added gloom factor that this was easily our poorest performance of the year. And that we collapsed pretty ignominiously against a side that played the entire second half a man short. Put this with all the typical routine unpleasantness of a Yorkshire derby – tedious posturing from the hard of thinking tendencies of both groups of fans, overly officious and aggressive policing, routine abuse on the crowded train back to Hull of people of Asian origin and women of any origin – and this was easily as joyless experience as I’ve had following Hull City this season. Oh yes, and the little matter of this almost certainly ending our chances of automatic promotion.

Never getting going and ultimately thrashing about rather horribly were:

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Livermore Dawson
Fagan Marney Ashbee Hughes
Campbell Folan

So David Livermore back, in terms of both the building and the defence. If you think that shows that ultimately our squad has become over stretched over the last few weeks, then I think you are absolutely right. The home side started as though they were the fresher, and perhaps they were. Cotterill skinned Dawson down the right, not for the last time but, not for the last time either, the cross didn’t match the run. This was just as well as Sharp and Beattie look a pretty formidable attacking partnership, Beattie looking to bounce and bully, Sharp to scrap and scurry. Turner and Livermore gritted their teeth and did battle and initially did well, sufficiently so that for all the Sheff possession they achieved little early on.

Mind you, we were achieving nothing at all. Ashbee and Marney were getting no control in the middle, Fagan, resplendent in his orange boots that he wore for half of the Cardiff game was having his usual ineffective outing and only Hughes looked to have the craft and the nous to move us forward. All this added up to no supply to Folan and Campbell who both ran and spun gamely but were subsisting on the thinnest of footballing gruel.

On 17 minutes Craig Fagan imposed himself on the game, giving the ball away crassly to break up a rare Tiger foray that led to a Sheffish attack with a shot that flashed just wide after being deflected. From the resultant corner Beattie got there first but his flick flashed over. We were still misfiring hopelessly, but Sheffield were clearly going to take no chances and their captain, Morgan, picked up a yellow card for a rum sort of foul on Campbell. Following this we had our one good footballing moment of the half, as Hughes cleverly put Rickets away for a trade-marked run and cross that Folan won and controlled for Marney to spanner wastefully when he should have done a lot better.

The game ambled to half time with the home side in control until a game-defining moment a minute before half time. For the only time in the game we gave Campbell the sort of ball he’s thrived on all season, he spun sweetly and scorched thrillingly but briefly as Morgan, having none of it, pulled and leaned on the boy. The linesman spotted it and, after a fairly prolonged chat with the referee, presumably encompassing whether the offence was inside or outside the area and whether it was a clear goalscoring opportunity, gave a free kick and a second yellow to Morgan. This was at the far end so my account is impressionistic, but it seemed fair enough. Dawson wasted the kick but we spent the half-time interval buoyant; we’d got away with a sub-standard first half and we had every opportunity to control the second.

And so of course the roof duly fell in. The nasty South Yorkshire folk roared straight at us clearly not going to allow us any sort of stride, manager Blackwell sensibly leaving both strikers to harass us. They charged down the right, got over the cross and Billy Sharp had so much room that he was able to do one of those flash headers for the cameras with the exaggerated body flex and swivel, the sort of thing another ex-Scunt Kevin Keegan did in ’82 against Spain instead of just nodding it in and getting England through to the next round and so letting down his country again – git. Sharp did better than the bubble-permed ridiculously over-praised pillock of a player and comedy serial managerial failure, getting power and position into his effort and then watching aghast as Myhill sprung and clawed it away as a Tiger keeper should. Custodian of the leather! It was a thrilling save and we wondered, just possibly, if that were a turning point.

But this is Bramall Lane, where Tigerish dreams fade and die. Again they attacked from the right. We allowed the cross over. It floated to the back post. We allowed them to get the header back in. It went into the middle. We allowed them to nod it down for Stephen Quinn to volley powerfully past Myhill. 1-0 and the heads of several defenders were rightly hung low.

We were all given a lift a few minutes later as Folan found Fagan wide on the right, Fagan using his pace and control to dither uselessly on the ball before being dispossessed. This had the desired effect as Brown gave him the hook and replaced him with the very welcome sight of Henrik Pedersen. We were now in a better position to play with three up front. In truth, we were probably in better position to play bar billiards, old maid or anything else, without our non-crossing winger cum non-scoring striker.

In truth, though Pedersen was immediately busy, we created nothing and spent much time giving the ball away and then back-pedalling in panic before Beattie and Sharp. The last throw of the dice was the people’s Deano, coming on for Andy Dawson who had toiled in vain throughout, Pederson dropping to left back. Pederson still kept coming forward and his cross found Campbell, whose flick was deflected upwards towards the predatorily closing Folan. As he moved to head it, the defender flicked it away with his hand. It was one of those odd ones that looked very clear to the fans – it was just in front of us - but not to the officials or even to the players who made little fuss at the award of the corner.

We soon learned that the referee was not averse to pointing to the spot. Livermore got the wrong side of Sharp, tugged, pushed and eventually bellyflopped on him. The decision elicited little protest, Beattie banged the penalty confidently past Bo and it was 2-0 and we were stuffed. Understandably Sheffield decided to draw in their horns after this and beckon us onto them, but we remained too laboured to hurt them. Hughes crossed, Windass shimmied and Marney had time to control and pick his spot well wide. Wicked waste. We had one more effort, a Windass free kick that Kenny saved very comfortably. Their netman had received a very warm reception from City fans as he trotted between the posts at the start of the second half, presumably due to his antics of two seasons ago. It must have been the only time he was warm all afternoon, so little he had to do.

This was a very poor performance and despite not having the best of the decisions we thoroughly deserved to lose. This wasn’t a case of it being difficult to break down a defensive 10 man formation, we were overwhelmed by them. Whilst we never completely imploded, too often we looked decidedly clueless. It could be argued that we would have conceded neither goal had Wayne Brown been playing, but if you are hoping to get through a season with ever present central defenders then you are pushing optimism beyond the limits of reason. In fairness the manager recognised this but has been thwarted in his attempts to strengthen first by injury and then by West Brom suddenly realising that they had loaned one of their rivals a very good player. Marney has looked too often like a flat track bully, unable to do it when actually needed and Fagan is not good enough at kicking a football to play at this level. Dawson, Turner, and Ashbee all look as though the season has suddenly caught up with them.

It’s not yet all over, though. I can’t see us doing it automatically; we will need to win our final 2 which you wouldn’t bet to happen and Stoke would have to slip up against both Leicester and Colchester or, assuming they win one of those games, must lose the other. I don’t think that will happen. But suddenly the playoffs look intriguing, the Wolves-Ipswich draw meaning there is daylight between the top 6 and the rest. So suddenly we have potential playoff opponents who haven’t played well for weeks (Bristol) or months (Watford) if we can avoid the hot Crystal, at least after next week. I don’t think we’d mind either of the other 2 in the semi-final and then anyone might win the final, as Derby proved in beating a far superior West Brom last time. Yesterday was rubbish, but this season has contained threads of pure spun gold and it may still glitter for a while yet.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Livermore, Dawson; Fagan, Ashbee, Marney, Hughes; Campbell, Folan.  Subs: Pedersen (for Fagan, 56), Windass (for Dawson, 64), France (for Livermore, 75), Walton, Duke.

Goals: None

Booked: Fagan, Livermore, Windass

Sent Off: None

SHEFFIELD UNITED: Kenny, Halls, Kilgallon, Morgan, Naysmith, Cotterill, Speed, Tonge, Quinn, Beattie, Sharp.  Subs: Ehiogu (for Cotterill, 46), Hulse (for Sharp, 77), Stead, Gillespie, Martin.

Goals: Quinn 51; Beattie 72 (pen)

Booked: Morgan

Sent Off: Morgan

REFEREE:   P Dowd

ATTENDANCE: 28,188