CCFC 1 v 1 STOKE

The weather this afternoon was as indecisive and unresolved as our immediate future. Our collars were turned up against the harsh winds of doubt as we queued at the turnstiles but by the time we'd taken our seats in the cocooned comfort of the CCS three layers of apprehension has been cast aside as the springtime sun warmed our spirits and steadied our troubled hearts.

On the back of an unlikely win at Southampton last time out Ole chose to stick with the same starting eleven, which might indicate - a tad late in the day - that he not only has a plan but also the personnel to put it into effect. Well it's a start.

With a hammering for Fulham in the early game, Sunderland facing Chelsea in the late game and Norwich up against champions-elect Liverpool tomorrow, suddenly the race for survival looks wide open albeit with a narrowing field.

Stoke set up in their charcoal blue tops and irradiated fluorescent yellow hooped socks looking like the product of an industrial design student focus group in search of a rave. In the early exchanges it was the boys in red who appeared super-charged, producing waves of belief and hope to settle the home crowd which, blessed by the absence today of Vincent Tan, was transmitting 27,686 particles of radiant energy from the terraces.

Within minutes the busy Daehli had put Mutch through but with just the keeper to beat he scuffed his shot tamely into the grateful arms of Bosnian international Begovic. Stoke looked unsettled and surprisingly disorganised as we continued to seek an early advantage. Fabio was driving forward and linking well with Daehli whose quick feet were throwing the Stoke defence off balance.

The away team, safe from harm but some distance from challenging for a European slot, have nothing to spur them on at this point of the campaign other than the chance of a best ever Premier League finish. Under Mark Hughes they've evolved from dowdy utilitarians into plodding also-rans, progressing from route one specialists to keep-ball obsessives. It's not pretty, it's hardly revolutionary, but it is effective.

It will keep the Stokies happy for now but it's not going to thrill the faithful for long. It's more than the unpleasant Potters with their less than empathic pro-Tan mocking chants deserve. A hateful bunch. The worst visitors this season. May they rot in mid-table purgatory.

Anyway, back to the game. There were two potential game-changers as the half progressed, both teams frustrated by some excellent work from two of the best shot-stoppers around. Marshall denied Odemwingie with an excellent acrobatic parry, and soon after Begovic propelled himself through the air to get an unlikely touch on Whittingham's precise free kick.

I think I may have bemoaned our luck once or twice this season and occasionally berated one or two of the officials, having made the artless assumption that the world's best league would be blessed with some top-notch refereeing. I've been shocked and disappointed at how the most furtive forwards have been able to 'buy' a decision by cynically and instinctively manipulating a situation to hoodwink the man in charge. Surely today's ref with a World Cup Final on his CV would be immune to such blatant trickery? Nah.

As the half neared to a close Odemwingie collected the ball on the edge of the box with his back to goal, directly in our line of vision. Minimal pressure from Kim saw the recent Cardiff reject theatrically lunge forward as Howard Webb, blindsided through a melee of players, hesitated for a moment's consideration before pointing to the spot for the first penalty to be awarded at the CCS all season. It looked a particularly poor decision and one that surely wouldn't have concentrated the ref's mind if it had taken place anywhere else on the field. Arntoutavic stepped up to send Marshall the wrong way and the half closed to the justifiably indignant chorus of '1-0 to the referee'.

There have been many fancy assumptions about the 'psychological importance' of a goal just before the interval but on this occasion it was the piqued victims who used the injustice of the situation to their advantage. We returned to the fray as if on a mission to right all wrongs.

In a crazy, intense 10 minutes (the precise details of which you'll have to rely on TV highlights to make sense of) we forced four consecutive corners, claimed our penalty - the first of the season, coolly dispatched by Whittingham - and had a second disallowed, Cala's header being ruled out for offside. We were rampant, showing a spirit and a belief beyond imagination. The crowd loved it.

The disallowed goal was cruel, the celebrating players slowly disentangling from their celebratory smother to turn towards the linesman's wretched raised flag. The goal would have been a just reward for our supremacy but the heat was suddenly taken out of the game. Stoke eased their way slowly back into the game and had chances themselves later on as City pushed for a winner.

  

We exerted plenty of midfield authority but again lacked the killer pass or the guile to outwit a solid Stoke defence. Turning quality possession into threats on goal has ultimately has been our downfall this season and despite Ole mixing things up towards the end by bringing on big Kenwynne to outmuscle his former colleagues we rarely threatened.

One point instead of three has failed to calm the nerves as we approach the final three games of our tempestuous season, and after Sunderland's shock win at Chelsea, next week's game at the Stadium of Light may well see the sun setting on our Premier League campaign.

'It's not dark yet (but it's getting there)' - Bob Dylan