A performance of uncharacteristic lameness - after a promising opening half hour - sees Swansea City dump the Tigers out of the League cup at the first stage after extra time.

Report by Steve Weatherill.

In which Swansea were denied victory in added time at the end of the 90 by a splendid Matt Duke save from a penalty, in which Swansea were granted and scored a second penalty in extra time, in which the home side thoroughly deserved their win and in which our woeful recent record in Cups continues. 'Recent' here, by the way, covers pretty much the last 20 years.

Yes, it's only the League Cup and I'm not too bothered. But Mr Brown sounded properly bothered in his post-match interviews. Articulate and well-chosen though his words as ever were, there was no disguising his dismay, even anger, at the tepid effort and ragged football served up by his chosen Tigers team. For he had, as expected, made sweeping changes from the team that performed with such excellent gusto at Blackburn only for his replacement fringe players to scorn this opportunity to make a solid case for a place in a Premiership starting line-up sooner rather than later. There were too many lazy and unfocussed men out there last night.

We name names.

Duke
Mendy Cooper Brown Doyle
Barmby France Hughes Halmosi
Folan Windass

Duke was splendid. Windass and Barmby, neither of whom lasted much beyond the hour, showed impressive determination and no little skill, and, Hull lads the pair of them, gave every indication that they regarded this as a game to be won, rather than merely an irritating interruption to a quiet week. The others? O dear. The 'honest and game but frankly limited, and on this evidence scarcely worth even considering as a Premiership player': step forward Brown, Doyle, France. The 'apparently uninterested in showing proper effort even though this is surely a massive opportunity to impress the manager': Hughes, Halmosi. The 'poor positional sense, can't even control a football, and why o why have we bought this clown'?: Mendy. 'Interesting for the future, but far from ready for the first team yet': Cooper. 'Plenty of pace but suddenly regressed six months and looked terrified in front of goal': Folan.

Ach, it's only the League Cup. But it should be better than this.

To the football. Liberty Stadium. No Walsall, Stoke or Northampton, but rather a superior example of the new-build football ground: tight and intimate. White Riot on the sound system. And it's largely empty. The crowd was given as 8000. But it looked smaller. The away crowd was officially announced (a nice touch) as 147, and what a grisly grimy crew of weirdos, oddballs, diehards and groundtickers they were too. Well, the other 146 were anyway (as I stiffen my shoulders and flick a speck of dust from my lapel, in the manner of Edward Fox). It's raining too. The sun vanished somewhere near Chepstow as we journeyed West and is long gone. Welcome to South Wales, and a big hello to the Heddlu too.

The game begins with some pleasing movement on and off the ball by both sides, but there is not a hint of intensity. The first flash of true skill brings us the opening goal. A Barmby ball into the edge of the box, Folan shows a neat touch, Deano is released on the left side and has plenty of time to strike a careful left foot shot low past goalkeeper De Vries.

Well, that was easy wasn't it. And for a while it looks as if we can pull off the footballing equivalent of the big lad standing with his palm firmly placed on small fry Swansea's forehead while they flail helplessly, unable to make any contact at all with their wild punches. Ha! Yes! We are Premiership. And you're not. And you've got a comedy goalkeeper whose distributional choices are two, one a smear into touch, two a gift to one of ours.

Barmby in particular is great and it's all relaxingly straightforward.

On 23 Bauza bursts past Wayne Brown into our box and is toppled by a despairing Duke. Penalty, red card. Except that a foul has already been given for a foul on Brown, so we escape. That was lucky. A soft call by referee Russell. But that's how it works. We are Premiership. You're not. Isn't it.

Swansea play plenty of attractive football. Their manager, sometime skilful if lightweight midfielder and genial telly pundit Roberto Martinez, has clearly instructed his players to get the ball down and pass, and I give him credit for doing things The Right Way. But pretty patterns won't hurt us. O no, we are in the Premiership, we are. Swansea are briefly the better side in the middle part of the half but we take over again as the break approaches, but there are few chances. There are, however, an awful lot of offsides awarded against us. This is all happening down the far end, so I can't be sure of my angles, but the quantity of offsides suggests either gross incompetence by Windass and Folan (especially) or, more likely, massive overflagging by the linesman.

No matter, half time and we're one up and making calm progress towards the next round.

And it stays calm for ten minutes as the second half begins. Whereupon madness and torment sweep in off Swansea Bay.

On 54 a horribly late tackle by Brown out by the touchline is temporarily ignored by a referee playing a well-chosen advantage and Swansea break dangerously. Man on ball races to by-line, man in space hares towards back of the box and receives the pass, man foolishly swipes his shot over the bar. The referee now books Brown, correctly so. A minute later and Duke thwarts floppy-haired frontman Bauza who is through in a one-on-one. 57, a corner, a vicious scissor-kick, a fine diving save by Duke. 60, another corner, a free header, and a scrambled block on the line by Doyle, stationed by the back post.

Deano comes off, King comes on, but the problems are defensive. Swansea are now fully aware that they have our measure at set-pieces. Brown and Cooper aren't getting close enough to their men, though our line-up is in general short on height, a weakness finally exploited to decisive effect on 62. Long ball, glancing header under no pressure, Duke is left helpless. 1-1. Small crowd, but now noisy crowd. It is Swansea, after all.

We are getting outpassed. We are second best in the air. We are getting outplayed.

Ach, it's only the League Cup. Swansea were inspired by the prospect of playing a Premier League club. Our main focus is also securing inspiration from playing a Premier League club, but for us that arrives only on Saturday, not on a grey wet night in South Wales. Even so ... it should be better than this.

We haven't been clueless as the Swansea storm breaks. On 56 Folan contrives to allow a defender to intercept when he should at least have managed a shot. On 59 Halmosi offers a decent low shot which is however easily saved. And on 66 King eludes the last man but can get no power on his shot and though it rolls past the keeper a defender is able to race back and clear the ball. All very well, but we should be imposing sustained pressure on Swansea, and that's not happening. We're adjuged offside a million times to boot.

Barmby off, Featherstone on. Young Nicky is eager enough, but he runs with his head down, no vision, can't pick a pass. The closest he'll ever get to matching Old Nicky is by appearing on the same substitution display board.

Last 5. One of theirs runs straight through the gaping middle of our defence with Cooper chasing in vain. And a thumping shot bounces back off the post. Ugh. On 88 Duke rescues Brown after a sloppy error. There are three added minutes and in the first of them the game seems to be settled. King loses possession upfield and the ball is transferred rapidly towards our penalty area. It's a slick move. And it's a blatant trip. Cooper the culprit, I think, though it was up the other end, in the drizzle and murk, so I can't be sure. Anyway, a penalty, and then we can set off on the long journey home. Except that Duke makes an excellent stop to his left, and we have - undeservedly - survived. In fact, we promptly threaten to win the game, as France, with a saved header and then a shot powered too high, bursts into life as the 3 added minutes are completed. But it's extra time. And still that long drive home afterwards.

Turner is introduced for the luckless Cooper. Mr Brown delivers an animated teamtalk, the vigour of which suggests that getting turfed out of the League Cup this early was not at all the plan, and switches his formation - France to right back, Mendy to left back, Doyle to join Hughes in central midfield. All those four players had poor nights. Nor for want of trying in France's case. Very much for want of trying in the case of Hughes, whose simple but effective passing game was a huge asset to us last season but who last night seemed content to stroll around and confess he'll never be anything more than a Championship player at best. Ditto Halmosi, who so far can't beat a man, is a moderately capable crosser but no more, and has no physical presence. Decent at dead balls, but we're not short of those skills in the squad. The Hungarian at the moment looks like the summer signing that went wrong.

O, I forgot about Mendy.

I will try to keep it that way.

Michael Turner is good enough to play international football but even he is infected by the feckless malaise. It is his clumsy foul that earns Swansea a second penalty. This time Duke goes left but the ball goes right.

We have one gorgeous opportunity to equalise. It arrives on 109, as a chipped free kick to the back post is headed back across the face of goal by one of their errant defenders, allowing Folan a chance to head home from close range. It's hard to miss, it's almost impossible to fail to hit the target.

He heads over the bar.

The closing minutes are pure farce, as Swansea players collapse all over the pitch as if massacred by landmines. It's trivial cramp if it's anything at all, but the referee stops play over and over again, instead of simply letting the game continue. On more than one occasion a writhing Swan is miraculously cured by the wonder remedy known as 'our team has gained possession, so I'll join in now'. But these circus antics are not the reason we lost the tie. We didn't play well enough.

And it's still a long drive home.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Duke; Mendy, Brown, Cooper, Doyle; Barmby, France, Hughes, Halmosi; Windass, Folan.  Subs: King (for Windass, 62), Featherstone (for Barmby, 72), Turner (for Cooper, 91), Atkinson, Garcia, Welsh, Warner.

Goals: Windass 11

Booked: Brown, Halmosi, Mendy

Sent Off: None

SWANSEA CITY: DeVries, Painter, Monk, Collins, Serran, Orlandi, Gomez, Tudur-Jones, MacDonald, Allen, Bauza.  Subs: Pintado (for Allen, 54), Rangel (for Collins, 55), Brandy (for Bauza, 81), O'Leary, Tate, Gower, Lawrence.

Goals: Pintado 63; Gomez 105 (pen)

Booked: Bauza

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:   M Russell

ATTENDANCE: 8,622