First rule of business: the customer is always right...

... Except, of course, when he isn't: and that certainly seemed to be Peter Grant's opinion in the aftermath of Hull City's late equaliser against his side on Saturday. Admirably honest when publicly criticising his players in his first few weeks in the job, the Norwich City manager went a stage further last weekend in lambasting his own supporters - whose unease during the final quarter of an hour against Hull manifested itself in, at least in the view of the combative Glaswegian, an eerie quiet. And when these nerves apparently transmitted themselves to the team, who promptly threw away two points against a struggling side for the third time this season, it was too much for the manager: who labelled the fans a 'disgrace'.

The initial reaction on messageboards and among fans I spoke to was one of fury at Grant's outburst: in his recklessness, there was a great danger he had lost the faith of the supporters. All of which made Tuesday night's match against Leicester a pivotal moment in the Scot's fledgling managerial career. Had Norwich played as poorly as in their previous two fixtures against Hull and Ipswich, there seemed every chance of the frustration felt by Canaries fans at their side's decline in little more than two years from runaway league champions to an at times desperately average bunch of cloggers boiling over, with Grant bearing the brunt: mercifully, though, City responded to going a goal down with a highly encouraging fightback, three goals, and the maintenance of their position on the fringes of the play-off race. A potential crisis had been averted, and the fans can look ahead to a crucial four games prior to Christmas with optimism, rather than apprehension.

So, was Grant right? Certainly, his choice of words - and in particular, the 'D' word - left a lot to be desired, but could surely be put down to his deep frustration in Saturday's immediate aftermath at two priceless points being lost. But nevertheless, in the view of this fan at least, there was more than an element of truth in what the manager said: for as long as I can remember, Norwich fans have been known throughout the game for our docile, placid nature. Perhaps the worst example I can ever recall was when, less than four years after the Canaries knocked Bayern Munich out of the UEFA Cup, we were humiliated by lowly Barnet in the League Cup: and as I trudged in furious disbelief out of Underhill, one fellow supporter turned to another and simply shrugged, "Ah well, things can only get better".

Any other set of supporters whose side had recently been lording it in the Premiership would, surely, have risen in tumult against the manager, players, perhaps even Delia Smith's board: but not Norwich fans. Indeed, despite the season which unfolded producing some of the club's most pathetic displays in living memory (5-0 at Ipswich, 5-0 at Wolves, 4-0 at home to Charlton, 3-0 down in a must-win Carrow Road game against a hopeless, disinterested Bradford, 3-0 at Grimsby), and City flirting dangerously close with what would have been an unthinkable, catastrophic relegation to English football's third flight, at no point did the fans turn on the man overseeing this shambles, Mike Walker: whose cherished status as the conquering hero who led us to European football in his first spell at the club, and who had bailed us out by reluctantly agreeing to return following Robert Chase's long-overdue departure, spared him any opprobrium. And when he was eventually dismissed once survival had been achieved, most of us felt nothing but sympathy towards him, as well as considerable anger towards the board, whose handling of the Silver Fox' exit left an extremely sour taste in many peoples' throats.

The essential point is this: Norwich are, and have always been, a decent, dignified, family club, and our fans invariably reflect this. But the problem is the self-fulfilling prophecy it creates: with the media patronising us, players invariably treating us as a stepping stone to bigger, more 'ambitious' clubs, the board being gazumped by more ruthless competitors when signings are attempted, and the supporters being admittedly annoyed, but never turning en masse against a manager, Nigel Worthington, who should have been dismissed almost a year before he finally left. And in the utterly cut-throat world which football has become - an environment, indeed, which would make Gordon Gekko blush - such an approach cannot possibly lead to sustained success.

Molineux, St Andrews, the Stadium of Light, Ninian Park, Elland Road, even Turf Moor: all these Championship venues are notoriously difficult to win at, because the supporters create such an unremittingly hostile atmosphere. Admittedly, there is a flip-side here too: Leeds fans, for example, have hardly surprisingly turned on their own team during this miserable season for their once-proud club, and Wolves supporters can be ludicrously fickle: one even going to the trouble of constructing a banner with the immortal words, "You've let us down again!", before his team had so much as kicked off against Norwich in the play-off semi-final second leg four years ago. But while the turnout of Canaries fans at Carrow Road remains magnificent, and second only to Sunderland of any club in the Championship, too often, the atmosphere at the ground is virtually dead, with supporters expecting the team to inspire them, rather than the other way around.

The great frustration is that, over the years, Norwich fans have proved we can do it: the cacophonous, almost-celebratory din which accompanied our gallant UEFA Cup exit in the San Siro in 1993 astonished our Italian hosts, and will remain in the memory of all those who were lucky enough to be there; and similarly, the sensational colour and noise of the enormous turnout from Norfolk at the 2002 play-off final was, according to those in charge at the Millennium Stadium, simply unsurpassed in their experience of overseeing such showpieces. The crescendo which accompanied the team's fightback from three goals down against Middlesbrough two seasons ago has all but passed into club folklore; and the support of the fans never let up on that sad, sad day at Craven Cottage when we were betrayed by a shameful, spineless capitulation by players who proved they were simply not fit to wear the shirt.

Indeed, perhaps it's most accurate to suggest that away from home, when the true hardcore fans gather together, Norwich fans are at our best - but at Carrow Road, all too often it can be the exact opposite. When in recent memory, for example, have we come anything close to matching the fanaticism which Portsmouth fans have all but trademarked since their club's promotion to the top flight: support which must, surely, have played a considerable part in their continued success since? That was what provoked Delia's celebrated half-time rant against Manchester City two seasons ago: for in a crunch, must-win game, and even allowing for the poverty of the team's display in crumbling from a position of strength, too many fans had gone missing in action.

When Grant became manager just under two months ago, many of us demanded he cut through the complacency endemic in the club: a whole new, infinitely more ruthless approach was required for City to have a chance of fulfilling our potential. To that end, it is somewhat rich for supporters to applaud when the pugnacious Scot lays into the players, only to condemn him when he holds the fans to similarly exacting standards: because it's all part of the same thing. Indeed, it is arguable that in our tolerance, patience, and reluctance to lambast the pathetic inertia of the board during, for example, Worthington's final year at the helm, we get the club we deserve: and if only the fans become more demanding, and more hostile to opposing teams, the tired, craven, failed mentality of the club will at last begin to change too.

So while we can bemoan the alarming weakness of the squad, complain that the quality of football isn't what many of us were brought up to expect, and even worry that, should we somehow win promotion, Sunderland's record for the worst-ever season in the Premiership may come under serious threat, we all owe it to Grant and the team to get behind them and help them as much as possible. Whisper it, but in spite of the shambles he inherited, Grant has so far accumulated a highly encouraging seventeen points from nine games: a return which, if continued over the rest of the season, will see us comfortably ensconsced in the play-offs. It's not his fault that the squad is so weak: yet in grinding out four 1-0 wins (two of them away to sides likely to be in the promotion shakeup themselves), he has shown signs of being able to make the best of a highly challenging job.

And in this topsy-turvy, madcap, God-foresaken division, the key is not so much to play champagne football as just, somehow, to get out: you can worry about the rest afterwards. Norwich may have a desperately mediocre team: but we are also just four points off the play-offs, with all things still eminently possible. Simply for getting the team back in the hunt, Grant deserves our support: and if his much-publicised comments result in a determination among the fans never to let up in their encouragement at Carrow Road over the remainder of the campaign, it could yet prove a highly significant turning-point for the better. Time will tell - but when supporters demand an open, direct, honest manager, they can hardly complain when he turns out to be exactly what so many of them called for, can they?