After the Wolves disappointment, a resurgent Tigers led by a powerful Jozy Altidore and prompted by youngster Tom Cairney in midfield claim a well deserved point against a world class but under-performing Chelsea side.

Report by Mark Gretton.

4 days, 2 home game, 2 draws, 2 points. That adds up to a lot of er, stuff, but not enough points. George Boateng admitted after the game that the players had been targeting these 2 games for 4 points - refreshingly, no echo of the manager's bogus and silly remarks after the Wolves game about another point gained in our premiership journey - so presumably we have done only half as well as the players had hoped. And had we managed to defend with even moderate competence against Wolves we would have garnered a win, so even a thrashing last night would have left us in a better position than we are now, with the Man City AllStars due to visit on Saturday.

Happily, football isn't always about sensible reasoning. We were excellent last night, there were good performances up and down the pitch and, though I don't go along with the view that we should have won - Chelsea had more good chances and forced more good saves - we were well-worth, as they say, the point. And it's possible, just possible, that the confidence engendered by a point against the league leaders will prove a place from which we can move forward.

By and large embodying both heart and brain were:

Myhill
McShane Mouyokolo Gardner Dawson
Fagan Boateng Cairney Hunt
Vennegoor of Hesselink Altidore

So huge - and to these old eyes, at any rate - unexpected credit to the manager for sticking with the 2 strikers who had got amongst the Wolves. The fact that we are pleased when the manager does something blindingly obvious shows how low expectations are, but I fully expected him to play Fagan upfront as a single striker in the tried and trusted manner of attempting to lock down the 3-0 defeat at the start of the game. But having stumbled on a partnership that works - as detailed at length in the Wolves report, Fagan was injured in the warm up or he would have played on Saturday - the manager ran with it. Less welcome was Fagan in for Mendy. Bonkers Bernard is not everyone's cup of latte, but he does have the advantage of doing the unexpected and he does have the priceless ability to take men on and beat them, which makes him so unlike Fagan it's quite spooky.

On a chilly night that got steadily colder, we set off attacking the southernmost stand. And attack it we did, surprisingly enough, winning a number of early corners characterised by a timidity to attack the goal on our part and a reluctance to mark on theirs. As the night progressed, we overcome our phobia better than they. Also prominent early on was Tom Cairney, one perceptive pass setting up a chance for Altidore that he was bundled out of was noteworthy. Also having a good first half was Hunt, pestering the life out of Ivanovic in both attack and defence and Boateng, gluing it all together and getting his hoof in everywhere it was needed. Cracking stuff.

Not that we were creating very much, and Chelsea, though lack-lustre, were the ones getting the chances on goal. A typically well hit Lampard effort was parried by Myhill towards Anelka who, with too much of an eye on Dawson, spannered the follow up. Soft get. Then Ivanovic for once evaded the clutches of Hunt and curled over a succulent cross inviting Ballack to d-r-o-p elegantly into a dive and carefully direct a header straight at Bo. The Angie Watts-haired Teuton stared fixedly at the turf for a while after this, as an alternative to meeting the accusing eyes of his team mates.

And on 29 minutes we went ahead. Altidore, who had begun diffidently was gaining in confidence and an excellent turn and charging run were illegally thwarted, the cross going for a corner. Hunt's delivery was good, Chelsea's defending was negligible, Mouyokolo's move was swooping and he put a fine header past risibly millinered netman Petr Cech. 1-0, hot diggetty!

Predictably, this roused the soft, southern shite into greater activity and we didn't see much of the ball for a while. Girl's blouse extraordinaire Anelka got off a good shot that Myhill pouched comfortably, and then it was ditto for Deco as the irritating but gifted Portuguese homunculus tried his luck. Drogba was bearing down flinty-eyed and waiting for the ball to drop for him when Gardner coolly nodded it back to Bo, and then a bewildering passing move resulted in a free kick just outside our area. I've no idea why. Chelsea thought they should have had a penalty for a later infringement, but the referee initially seemed to signal an indirect free kick. Well, sort of. Referees don't have the many fun hand signals that cricket umpires do, so they normally make the most of what they've got, indirect freekicks marked by them striding around porkily and self-importantly with one arm ostentatiously aloft like a banker attempting to attract a taxi after a 4 hour lunch in the City. Referee Clattenberg initially seemed to signal this but in a pretty half-arsed way, his arm flopping about in front of him and then dropping limply, like a middle-aged man getting a semi at the thought of the tramp stamp he glimpsed on the au-pair when she was bent over changing their youngest, which shrivels when he surprises his wife in the bathroom resting her belly on her cellulite-spattered thigh as she shaves her leg illicitly with his Pro-curve Panasonic.

Unravelling this image may have hindered our defence from doing all it should have done and it was with a wall noticeably fraying at the edges that we attempted to defend the predatory Drogba. His strike was low and firm but probably shouldn't have been lethal, but it found its way betwixt Hunt and Boateng and inside Bo's left post. 1-1. This was the signal, for the final minutes of the half, for Chelsea to rather bewilderingly drop the pace again, so much so that we really should have been ahead. Cairney plonked a free-kick right on to the head of Gardner, Chelsea again persisting with a no-marking policy and the ball shouldn't have gone wide. But half-time and we had done far better than I had feared.

The second half offered more of the same as commendably we took the game to them. Altidore turned and saw off Terry who was forced to foul him. From the freekick Jozy got the header (free, again) but straight at Cech. Then Jozy beasted and bested Terry once more in a fine passing move that ended with Cairney driving hard but high. Altidore seemed to be non-plussing the visitors and another combination of bullocking charge and hitherto unseen quick feet saw him past Ivanovic who, at least to the eyes of the East Stand, clipped him over as he motored goalwards. Clattenberg saw a touch on the ball that we all missed. Apparently. Chelsea were letting us play, but they were still doing a bit themselves. Myhill saved one drive competently and then added to his recent portfolio of double saves in keeping out a Drogba header and then seconds later a follow up effort from Terry. Hard to say whether Terry was upset by the booing every time the ball came near him. He didn't have his best night, but neither did he hide from the ball. I wonder if the attention is upsetting others? Lampard was wretched for the most part, no pressing allowed Cairney plenty of room and no passing meant their strikers never got on a roll. He wasn't as dreadful as he generally is for England, but he was nonetheless surprisingly poor

We hadn't given up and we were buoyed by another rarity, a sensible substitution. Big Jan, hard-working and unwieldy as a heavy-goods vehicle was with drawn for Zaki. 'Egyptian magic' murmured a large and alarming looking man behind me, waggling his fingers as though seasoning a dish of fuul, or attempting to stimulate a very small penis, which was ironic as the fan in question doesn't have much to do with cooking. But Zaki created a decent impression again, a good touch and impressive pace from a standing start were on show. Once he lost his man decisively ("Like the lost Temple of Karnak" bellowed an excitable and be-Fezzed fan behind me, puzzling the rest of the East Stand who were aware that the Temple of Karnak covers an area of more than half a square kilometre and doesn't get mislaid like car keys down the sofa) but spoilt it all by passing to Fagan. As Zaki becomes more attuned to his team mates, he'll no doubt learn that the reason Fagan and Kilbane (brought on later for Altidore in a reversion to the manager's favoured policy of head-shaking substitutions) are in space is because there's no point in anyone marking them. Four times Zaki found Fagan, four times our 'winger' wasted the ball. At least he moved; Kilbane merely stood in wonder, too surprised even to point as the ball rolled past him. As the game drew on we were visibly tiring, but hung on with reasonable comfort, one excellent Myhill full stretch save from a beautiful shot on the drop from substitute Daniel Sturridge apart.

A very good point and we showed much to be admired. The defence was excellent, Mouyokolo increasingly looking the part and Gardner putting his uncharacteristic blunder-ridden afternoon (painstakingly described in the Wolves report) behind him. Cairney was genuinely impressive; after Saturday I had sided with those who thought his pretty but low-risk passing didn't make up for his lack of bite. Tonight he did much better, even putting in a tackle at one point, but always keeping the defensive shape of the team when he didn't have the ball and playing a number of perceptive and effective passes forward when he did. Hunt had a fine first half and looked very tired in the second, giving the ball away far too often. Altidore looks as though, just maybe, he's finding himself. If he could ever get a goal, he might really blossom. Fagan was everywhere and gave his usual consistent performance, all of which was a real shame. I thought I had said the final word on him in a larky aside in the Wolves report, but perhaps as I set it in the form of an acrostic poem in the section where I was describing the effect on the fans of the unscheduled appearance of The Balloon Dancers as the half time entertainment, it's possible some of you missed it. Suffice it to say, near the end of last night when a ball running to him after a foul was waved as play on by the referee, all over the ground you could hear voices raised followed by laughter as everywhere people got one off on the lines of "How can it be our advantage if it's with Fagan, eh? Eh?". This tells you all you need to know about the quality of his evening. Anyone who thinks his selection is justified because he got in the way of Ivanovic when Mouyokolo scored is far more tolerant than I.

Man of the match was George Boateng, as he was on Saturday. Rejuvenated, though clearly knackered by the end, prominent going forward, protective of both his defence and young Tom, he had a fine game and this was reflected in his exuberant Blunderside interview after the match. Worth reflecting that if Adam Pearson hadn't returned, the Boat would no doubt have been floating off into the sunset. As he said, it was up to him (George), not the manager or chairman, to say whether or not he should retire. What a curious way our club was run and managed last year.

But there was evidence last night that there is still as much waving as drowning in our team. Whether three days off can restore a hard working outfit that is likely to have to charge and chase just as much on Saturday, I suppose we'll see. But it was great last night, really it was, our best home performance of the season and our joint best overall of this stuttering campaign with the one at Eastlands. More on Saturday, if you would be so kind.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; McShane, Mouyokolo, Gardner, Dawson; Fagan, Boateng, Cairney, Hunt; Vennegoor of Hesselink, Altidore.  Subs: Zaki (for Vennegoor of Hesselink, 66), Kilbane (for Altidore, 86), Zayatte (for McShane, 89), Mendy, Barmby, Geovanni, Duke.

Goals: Mouyokolo 30

Booked: McShane

Sent Off: None

CHELSEA: Cech, Carvalho, Terry, Ivanovic, Malouda, Deco, Zhirkov, Lampard, Ballack, Drogba, Anelka.  Subs: J Cole (for Ballack, 72), A Cole (for Zhirkov, 81), Sturridge (for Anelka, 82), Ferreira, Turnbull, Alex, Kalou.

Goals: Drogba 42

Booked: Drogba, Ivanovic, Terry

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:    M Clattenburg

ATTENDANCE: 24,957