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I think it was Tulsa (occasionally of this parish) who said on Canary Call that there’s nothing sweeter than an ugly, hard-fought, ground-out win, and who are we to argue? He’d nailed it. Sweeter still because, as City fans, those are not the type of wins of which we’ve become accustomed. Ground-out wins when we’re not playing at our best are definitely not our forte. No siree. But last night was (sorry) one of those. City weren’t at their fluent best, aided and assisted by Philippe Clement’s well-explained and logical squad rotation, but still they resisted when they needed to and, crucially, always looked as if they had a goal or two in them. That’s not to say that, as City fans, the first 28 were particularly comfortable, because they weren’t. Sphincter-twitching, yes. Comfortable, no. But it all changed with that ping-ping-ping involving Pelle Mattsson, Papa Diallo, and Mathias Kvistgaarden, which freed up Oscar Schwartau in a couple of yards of space. Until then, Oscar’s main involvement had been giving the ball away too cheaply and being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but one wondrous swish of his right boot from 25 yards and everything changed. He suddenly looked a different player, and so too the team. For the rest of the first half, they fizzed and buzzed, and the horrors of the first 28 minutes were quickly erased from the memory. One-touch, two-touch, with Kenny and Pelle finally getting a grip of the centre of the pitch. And when that happens, opponents need to look out. With Kvistagaarden continuing to do the world’s best Flecky impersonation (it’s a compliment, young’uns, ask your parents) and Andre Brooks bobbing and weaving to his heart’s content, everything started to click. His cross to Diallo for number two owed as much to the scorer being on the move as it did to Brum’s leaden-footed defending, but it was the type of cross that so often gets blocked at the near post, only this time his clever cut back found its target. To some, 2-0 may have felt comfortable, but to us grizzled veterans it’s a dangerous lead when supporting Norwich City. Birmingham were always more likely to return after the break, akin to the team that dominated the first 28 minutes as opposed to the bedraggled bunch that sloped off at halftime, and so it came to pass. Chris Davies’ clear message was to put it up ’em, go longer, go further, go higher, and go harder and, to be fair, they did. Rarely have I watched a Carrow Road game where the ball spent so much time in the air, although it all became much clearer afterwards in Big Phil’s Radio Norfolk debrief. Apparently, Davies’ men are top of the charts for aerial duels won and the number of aerial duels, so I guess it’s part of their MO that the ball stays in the air at least 75 per cent of the time. And it did. But it was a route of attack that City were ready for and were able to match. Even more so when the 6’5 frame of Jovon Makama was joyously permitted some time on the grass – a futile ‘material’ when Brum are in town – and who took all of his six months of injury frustration out on Birmingham’s two delicate little centre-backs. Quite happy were they to try and bully Flecky 2.0 – who, in fairness, gave as good as he got – but they were soon to discover they’d met their match in big Jov. The playground bullies became the bullied, and they couldn’t take it. Makama’s impact, not just on those two priceless little flowers but on the whole game, was outstanding for someone whose fitness levels must be at something like 25 per cent. He was a colossus when we needed one and was key in swinging the pendulum back City’s way when Birmingham were threatening to add to their equaliser. He and the equally hungry and impressive Ante Crnac were immense in those closing minutes when extraordinary levels of sh1thousing were called for and delivered. While it was a bit un-Norwich-like, seeing the ball kept in that corner in front of the travelling fans for the final two minutes was just a little bit brilliant. So, yeah, a good one under the lights and accompanied by a crackling atmosphere. I’m not going to delve into the officialdom as they were equally inept for both sides, but it’s never good to see a trio who have clearly lost control of the game and are trigger-happy with whistle, flag and card. But, hey, Davies can moan all he likes. His bruisers lost for the first time this season, and we appear to be on a mini-roll. Let’s enjoy it. UTFC.