JUST about the only issue to stand out in black-and-white from this match was the respective kits.

Otherwise, Saints' opening day defeat at Leeds was a montage of grey, vague, confusing shades.

Saints lost, but it was a defeat that boss Stuart Gray can draw plenty from.

His team defended well but Gray won't be entirely happy with the manner in which Leeds were allowed to break the ice.

He'll be encouraged that his team created chances, but disturbed that they failed to take them.

It was one of those strange, nefarious games where Saints went to one of the championship contenders on a hiding to nothing but came away scratching their heads as to why they left empty-handed.

Saints' record at Elland Road down the years is about as dismal and gloomy as an EastEnders blockbuster story line and, in the final rub, the game undoubtedly pivoted on Uwe Rosler.

Just as Saints' interest in one German striker - Oliver Bierhoff - was ended by his massive wage demands, their cut-price German was conscripted into the ranks.

Rosler's pre-season displays had earned him a first Premiership start in 11 months but he'll have nightmares worse than any Grimm's fairy tale could engineer.

Paul Jones' alert and deliberate punt downfield pinned Rosler one-on-one with Rio Ferdinand, who certainly didn't look like £18million worth of defender as the German leaned into him to ease him out of the path of the dropping ball.

Rosler's first touch was a good one and he was left clean through facing Nigel Martyn.

Credit to the England keeper who stayed on his feet as long as possible and got his angles right. Rosler, though, never looked completely comfortable and who knows how much his long first-team absence has nibbled at his confidence?

Perhaps the Rosler of five years ago in his pomp at Manchester City would have feinted; made the keeper make the first move and chipped the ball over his committed dive. Martin won the psychological duel and the poker hand, sticking out a leg to save.

Had Rosler scored who knows?

Leeds were flat, verging on desperate with their fans on their case at their inability to break Saints down.

Rosler had another chance two minutes later when he bulleted a diving header over from ten yards, although Kevin Davies's cross would have been obscured by Dominic Matteo.

It was tough on Rosler, who otherwise led the line admirably. Always available, he kept it simple while playing with his back to goal, but strikers live and die on what they do in front of the sticks.

A piece of old Wild West wisdom dictates you only get one chance to stick your hand in a rattlesnake's burrow, and it's much the same with sides like Leeds.

Saints' failure to close the back door allowed Leeds to burgle the lead. All the homework done on defending the second ball at set-pieces was unravelled by Marian Pahars' failure to track Lee Bowyer who was left with time to crack home a 16-yard volley after Ferdinand had headed Ian Harte's corner back across goal.

Leeds' second just emphasised the gulf in resources as Alan Smith who had been brought off the bench, produced a piece of impish, impudent skill to turn Dean Richards and pass the ball past Paul Jones.

It was a frustrating end for Saints who not only defended resolutely but created more chances than their previous visit to Elland Road under Glenn Hoddle.

Saints' 4-4-2 gave them surprisingly more flexibility to spring from defence into attack than Hoddle's Christmas trees.

Providing the solid heart were Richards and the immaculate Claus Lundekvam. Both solidly held their ground to win the crosses that inevitably came in, although the supply from the left was curtailed as Rory Delap first got to grips and then gradually emerged as the winner in his duel with the mercurial Karry Kewell.

Lundekvam was the acme of cool, his only mistake being his most costly. His lunge for the ball as Kewell bore down on goal was genuine enough but, as last man, there's no margin for error and under the letter of the law, he had to go.

Chris Marsden again proved to be a key man to the team knit, voraciously scavenging and foraging in front of the defence, with Matthew Oakley the beating pulse and Anders Svensson providing enough evidence with his close ball skills and short-game awareness that his £750,000 price tag might be a steal.

It will all give manager Gray a medieval banquet-load of food for thought.