After a spirited start of the kind that City fans are accustomed to at the Big 4 grounds, Fernando Torres gives new signing Ibrahima Sonko a fearful roasting and, as the interest levels of the team waned in the second half, the Tigers are thumped 6-1.

Report by Matthew Rudd.

There's no way Hull City, at present or in the nearest of futures, can compete with Liverpool in the business of football. But in a 90 minute period, it is expected that they should be able to compete on a football pitch.

There was no competition here for one whole depressing, dishevelling half. Only a late flurry from the joyless home team made the scoreline look ultra-conclusive. But there is a nagging doubt remaining, an unscratchable itch, about whether the Tigers have it in them to compete at any level this season.

There was a weariness about City through the second half, trumped by Fernando Torres' second goal of the game which had restored Liverpool's lead and sent City into the tunnel losing and undoubtedly feeling a little hard done by. But then that second half contained none of the bite and resourcefulness of the first.

Liverpool soon made it three, then fluked a fourth, then took off their two scorers and main focal points and still managed to slip home a fifth and sixth while missing out on a seventh, eighth ... take it up to a fifteenth, by my notes. City, meanwhile, didn't get into the Liverpool penalty area once.

While the cumulative effect of another defeat will maintain the pressure on the coaching set-up, nobody should make wild alterations to a club's infrastructure as a consequence of losing to Liverpool at tranquil, quaint Anfield. But a performance was needed as one glances furtively at the forthcoming fixtures which really will, or at least should, make or break the future of the present hierarchy.

Not treating the occasion as a write-off in the slightest were:

Myhill
McShane Cooper Sonko Dawson
Ghilas Boateng Kilbane Hunt
Geovanni
Vennegoor of Hesselink

A Premier League debut for Liam Cooper. Never would I dare argue with giving a youngster from the ranks a chance, and certainly the central defender has earned it after two Carling Cup displays of promise, even though it's hard to undertake a genuine assessment of a kid's suitability from a cakewalk against Southend and a trampling from Everton, and were he to be spun on the little finger of Fernando Torres like a basketball, it wouldn't be held against him (except by a brand of especially despicable, pathetic supporter, maybe - does anyone know if we have any of those?). The absence of Tom Cairney, evidently impressive and proactive in the same games as Cooper, was a little disappointing, however, though selecting two untried kids at once to play in an unwinnable game may have been taking it a tad too far. Still would have been a better option than Kevin Kilbane, like.

Away we go then. Instantly, Steven Gerrard fed Torres with a tidy pass (we had a lot of this) but Boaz Myhill fell on the ball with apt timing as the ludicrously gifted Spaniard gave chase. He didn't play in this fixture last year, and Gerrard didn't play in the corresponding game at the Circle, so the prospect of the two of them together in our current situation didn't exactly make the mouth water.

It didn't take long before the first Torres chance of note was crafted, courtesy of a run down the left from Albert Riera. Torres took one touch to evade Ibrahima Sonko's overcommitted stance, and then drove a precise shot beyond Myhill for the opening goal.

It was so, so easy. It was Torres, so it looks so, so easy. He could easily be the most natural finisher English football has ever seen. The best goalscorer in the world, too. But it isn't a consolation of any sort. He may be good, but the space afforded to Riera previously suggested we should have done better.

So, settle down and prepare to be entertained through gritted teeth and with two fingers towards the chairman. And make sure you do settle down too, as even getting to one's feet to shuffle through the static legs with the lavatory in mind would have had you earmarked by some extremely tossy steward as a troublemaker who deserves to be removed from spectatordom, branded with a red hot iron, relieved of your DNA via a gob swab and then, weirdly, allowed back to your seat again. What a cretinous bunch of individuals the Liverpool stewardhood was.

Still, we all stood up, jumped up, flew into the air when, joyously, crazily, berserkly, City equalised. Paul McShane, who spent most of the game spoiling for a scrap, crossed well from his flank for Jan Vennegoor of Hesselink to nod back. Kilbane tried to connect but, being Kilbane, failed entirely, but the freshly-contracted Geovanni was approaching fast, having initially fed McShane to start the move, and he duly spanked a super left foot volley low past Jose Reina and into the net. I would say it silenced the Kop, but they were already silent, to be honest. At prayer, perhaps.

And so, there was a game on, we hoped. The inevitability that goes with being of a despicable disposition dictates that the belief garnered by Geovanni's strike will be brief and misplaced. But, though luck was ridden, for a while City looked equal to their hyped hosts, at least through their rearguard action. Riera had a shot blocked and then the resultant corner was diligently defended, then Lucas skidded a low one almost right at Myhill after City marked more obvious targets for the pullback out of the equation.

Torres then mazed his way twixt and tween many an amber shirt but his final ball was anticipated and intercepted by Andy Dawson before Dirk Kuyt could swing a foot at it. The corner was delivered by Gerrard and Martin Skrtel battered a volley for goal but Sonko unflinchingly got in the way.

So it was all Liverpool. This is not an unexpected phenomenon when visiting Anfield, even though this Liverpool side is blatantly still not good enough to win the Premier League, but when the home team is sending in every reinforcement it possesses, the away team needs to remain strong, united and courageous. Bundles of these traits were indeed on show, at this stage. Young Cooper was having, for a little while, the time of his life.

Then Torres got the ball wide in the box, zigged one way, zagged another and even had time to dump Myhill on his backside with a swish of the hips before poking the ball with nonchalance aforethought into a net devoid of covering defenders.

It was a fine individual goal. It showcased a glorious talent for creating chances from nothing. It epitomised the Torres confidence of knowing how and where a good goal is made. And it should have been prevented. A foul, maybe. Give away a penalty, go on, you'll get a yellow card but the kick might go into the stands and hit a mouthy steward as he chucks out a City fan for picking his nose. But don't concede a goal. Not as easily, as readily, as straightforwardly as this.

I could say it made City look fools, but I suspect the stable door has been wearing out its hinges for some time on that one.

City had another go at prompting some mild murmurs from the half-arsed Anfield crowd, and McShane was unlucky to see a decent chance deflected wide after a Geovanni free kick was flicked across in his direction. Stephen Hunt tried an overhead kick which had Reina scrambling a tad. Kamel Ghilas hit a volley from a Sonko long throw which was blocked. Geovanni tried one from distance which arced its way just wide at the last moment.

The whistle sounds at 2-1. Correct as far as possession and opportunities are concerned, but a 1-1 half time score would have been tailor-made for something big to occur on the back of the wise words from the dressing room.

And heaven only knows what actually was said, irrespective of the scoreline. City had done well, it was an approachable brand of football from the Tigers on the not endless occasions they were afforded a hold of the ball. The second half was utterly objectionable.

Afterwards, Brown would claim the defending was not up to standard. This will not do Cooper the world of good, clearly. Engaging brain before issuing blame is not something important folk within Hull City seem to have a working grasp of right now. For Cooper's sake (and also because it's the truth), he did a fine job for a kid playing against the most feared goalscorer in world football, and certainly outshone Sonko, a man whose limits in the mobility stakes would have a giant redwood laughing its trunk off. And if Brown thinks the defending has gone doolalley, then might we suggest, in our pathetic and despicable way, that he needs a tall, commanding, brave centre back with impeccable timing in the tackle and a knack of reading the game. There's one at Sunderland.

City created nothing in attack whatsoever, so it's with a heavy heart that we describe every spot of action from the wrong end. Fewer than two minutes had elapsed after resumption when Torres was permitted to cut in from a wing and sweep a delightful but annoyingly preventable shot past Myhill to complete the most untroubled threesome he may ever notch in his career.

Bookings were traded, with Skrtel a little fortunate to only see yellow for elbowing Vennegoor of Hesselink square in the nose, while Hunt was cautioned for a foul on Glen Johnson, which in a just world would actually be rewarded with the Victoria Cross. Geovanni whapped the free kick from Skrtel's misdemeanour rankly over the bar and that was City's contribution almost complete, really.

Torres headed on to the roof from a Skrtel centre before Gerrard, receiving the ball back from his own cleared corner, swerved in a high cross that, lo and behold, turned into a shot, or at least it did so once it nestled into the far side of Myhill's net with nobody choosing to jump at it. A soft, embarrassing goal, which even Gerrard's muted celebrations seemed to accept. 4-1 down. Any more?

McShane's fiery temperament had already taunted ref Peter Walton a few times, but an altercation on the touchline with Jamie Carragher was that step too far and the Irish coppernob took City's latest yellow card. It at least embodied a fighting spirit in McShane that was absent from most of his team-mates, but he had begun to channel his aggression negatively, and it did nobody any good at all. Giving Carragher any sort of moral highground is a sign of how low you really are sinking.

Brown makes changes, with Dean Marney coming on for the clueless Kilbane and, shock horror drama, Daniel Cousin replacing Vennegoor of Hesselink and proceeding to win every single header aimed his way. Cousin has uses, as well as an attitude and a disposition sponsored by CoziSleep. But find a way of making his uses benefit the team and we still have a good player. Otherwise he'll just be added to the list of gifted footballers who are removed from the picture because of the manager's personality shortcomings.

Liverpool also make a change, giving Torres a breather for Ryan Babel. That'll be okay then. Comedic steps are taken to give City a chance of a goal when Reina fluffs a clearance when chasing out of his area, allowing Ghilas a chance to lob the keeper from Hunt's quick throw-in. This being Hull City, the goal nor its keeper are not exactly threatened by this effort at spontaneity. Ghilas shoots - and concedes a throw.

Javier Mascherano replaces Gerrard as Liverpool pile it on with an eye on the goal difference. Johnson swishes a fine left-footer inches wide, Babel's goalbound piledriver is blocked stingingly by Dawson, sub Andriy Voronin strikes a shot too high from Babel's knockdown. Riera shoots wide from distance. As chance after chance peppers its way towards our goal, the thought of escaping with a 4-1 defeat becomes almost attractive.

Marney is booked for a dive and George Boateng clears another Liverpool cross from under his own bar. Relentless and merciless, this is. Jozy Altidore comes on for Geovanni for, presumably, a postcard-writing reason ("Hi Mom! I'm in Liverpool, home of the Beatles!") and no other.

Babel releases Kuyt and then cutely flicks in the low return ball for 5-1, with a second goal for the sub following soon afterwards via a fortuitous deflection on Riera's shot which spooned over the helpless Myhill. It ended here at 6-1. A day out at Liverpool had proved to be as bad as, well, a day out *in* Liverpool.

It is all very bleak. It's hard to know where to start, as we are reminded constantly by the thought police in amber ties that we have The Best Squad In Our History. But the squad of 12 months ago was doing far better in a Premier League that hasn't improved by such a great margin that lil'old Hull City has been left asunder. What we actually have is a squad of good players who simply do not seem to believe in their manager. We have a defence that is missing a defender of stature and reliability who is, be it with a loanee from Stoke or a wide-eyed kid with stars in his eyes, simply irreplaceable. Our captain is crocked and nobody wants to take on his role as lead vocalist on the park, our creative outlet, new contract or nay, is having to do too much on his own and we cannot create chances for any centre forward we happen to pick.

Yes, it was Liverpool, and defeat here does not open an avenue for widespread criticism. Beaten by one of the best teams. But right now, irrespective of who we face, Hull City has no heart at all, and whatever the ability of the squad, no heart equals no hope. How we get it back is up to those who make the decisions, while the rest of us go on our pathetic, despicable way.

HULL CITY (4-4-1-1): Myhill; McShane, Cooper, Sonko, Dawson; Ghilas, Boateng, Kilbane, Hunt; Geovanni; Vennegoor of Hesselink.  Subs: Marney (for Kilbane, 64), Cousin (for Vennegoor of Hesselink, 64), Altidore (for Geovanni, 83), Barmby, Olofinjana, Zayatte, Warner.

Goals: Geovanni 15

Booked: Hunt, Kilbane, Marney, McShane

Sent Off: None

LIVERPOOL: Reina, Carragher, Skrtel, Insua, Johnson, Benayoun, Gerrard, Lucas, Riera, Torres, Kuyt.  Subs: Babel (for Torres, 68), Mascherano (for Gerrard, 74), Voronin (for Benayoun, 77), Kyrgiakos, Aurelio, Ngog, Cavalieri.

Goals: Torres 12, 28, 47; Gerrard 61; Babel 88, 90

Booked: Skrtel

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:    P Walton

ATTENDANCE: 44,392