CCFC 0 v 3 HULL
I don’t know if the adopted
Rastafarians in the Canton End had been
passing round the ganja all evening to
alleviate the pain but after 94 minutes they were still cheering themselves up
with a looped ‘Three Little Birds’ (by this time there were so few of us left
in the ground that ‘Exodus’ would have been a better choice). While there is
plenty to worry about and it’s far clear that ‘every little ting gonna be alright’ this was not the by now
traditional end of season 0-3 capitulation a la Ipswich, Portsmouth &
Reading.
We’ve all squirmed at the sight
of a red-faced under pressure manager in his post match interview excusing his
team and defending his tactics, laying the blame for a crushing defeat at the
door of the officials, but on this occasion Malky’s contention that they need
to ‘take a long hard look at themselves’, although it might be seen to be
glossing over a dispiriting and unexpected defeat, is not unreasonable.
Hull came out firing on all
cylinders, a young team fleet of foot and with a clear game plan. Within 5
minutes they had a reward for their pressure when the unfortunate McNaughton,
misjudging the flight of a corner and obscured by Mason’s mistimed leap,
stooped to conquer placing an ankle-high header past the bewildered daisies and
beyond Marshall’s grasp.
The remainder of the first half
was keenly fought. It was clear that Gunnarsson and Cowie had been instructed
to provide closer support for Miller who seemed to have more freedom to make
runs through the middle and out wide in the knowledge that an advanced midfield
would be around to help out. Hull’s defence is the meanest in the league away
from home so it was gratifying to see Malky trying something different. The
downside was that it was left to Whittingham to sit back just ahead of the back
four to mop up. A waste of his talents and a gift to the opposition.
As the first half was drawing to
a close Turner met a swinging corner which had evaded their keeper. The net
bulged; the crowd rose as one to celebrate a deserved equaliser. The referee
was standing within 10 yards of the action with a clear unobstructed view. His
assistant standing some 30 yards away from the action flagged for a foul on the
goalie. Now as I understand it the role of the chap running the line is to
‘assist’. Not to overrule. The ref however accepted his assistant’s version of
events, ruled out the goal and we went in 0-1 down and mightily aggrieved.
Marley’s Ghost might have penned a protest song on the spot: ‘Old Tigers yes they rob I etc...’ But
would we get Redemption in the second half? Would we ‘forward in this generation, triumphantly’? Not quite.
Within a minute of the restart
Hull were two up. Again they started the brighter and forced the pace. The ball
was fed through to (I dunno, some anonymous forward) who saw off the advancing
Marshall. Worse was to come. On 55 minutes McClean raced onto a through ball as
our back line stepped forward. There was daylight between him and Taylor as he
made his run but the same dozy assistant who had ruled out our goal kept his
flag by his side. C’mon ref ‘You can fool
some people sometimes but you can’t fool all the people all of the time’.
McClean was allowed to continue. Marshall came out, narrowed the angle and
saved but the striker scored from the rebound. 0-3.
With half an hour left to play
there was still hope, however small. Hull continued to defend efficiently and
were dangerous on the break. It was a war of attrition as we came forward in
waves occupying enemy territory for long spells but despite hitting the
woodwork twice it was all to no avail. Malky made a couple of changes to try to
freshen things up but the substitutions just served to highlight the paucity of
options on the bench. Bringing on Conway for Cowie and Earnie for Miller
changed nothing. It was as effective as cashing in your peseta for drachma.
Despite all our earnest endeavours we are predictable and easy to defend
against, and on a day when our top scorer was sitting back out of position and
out of sorts a compact and well organised defence was rarely troubled. 0-3 did
not reflect the balance of play but if we are to put in a realistic play-off
challenge we needed a return from this first in a run of three home games.
So we left contemplating the
likelihood of yet another disappointing end to a season once so full of promise.
In the words of the great Rastafarian bard ‘Men
see their dreams and aspiration a-crumble in front of their face.’
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