Sport on stage, broad humour, fortified language - must be John Godber, right? Wrong. The main man at Hull Truck seems to have shifted away from these themes of late; but before drifting off into a haze of almost Chekhovian mellowness he has taken the precaution of cloning a version of his former self.

Gordon Steel, whose previous two plays, Dead Fish and Like a Virgin, also successfully premiered at Hull Truck, is to John Godber what football is to rugby - they play to slightly different codes, but both are essentially about big blokes fired up by their balls.

Studs is the association rules version of Up and Under, Steel being an ex-Sunday morning player as opposed to Godber, who has a background in rugby league. Sunday league has a mud-encrusted, gladiatorial aspect to it, but Steel recalls the changing-room atmosphere of stale breath, lineament and shin-guards with wistful fondness.

Strong in language, weak in plot, Studs is a play of two halves. The first is a bit of a scramble to boot as many belly-laughs into the audience as possible; the second a slower, more tactical attempt to engage their emotions. The result, I'd say, is a draw.

Like Godber, Steel gathers a group of stereotypes and revels in the comic business of bashing their egos together until everyone comes out bruised or injured. What Steel doesn't really offer is a wider context for the slapstick. Up and Under was a investigation of male aggression in a climate of limited opportunity. Studs is about a bunch of blokes in a lean- to, belching and discussing their poo. Perhaps this signifies the Beckettian futility of Sunday league football, but in truth the action never digs far beneath the playing surface.

Steel, who also directs, brings out some terrific performances, however. Outstanding is Trevor Fox as Mac, a great, steaming tank of testosterone whose transformation from hard as nails to soft as putty occurs at the moment he recognises his girlfriend (a vulnerable Caroline Wardell) as a person rather than a sex object, by which time it is too late. Joe Caffrey matches him well as the terminally indecisive Tommo. Michael Hodges is excellent as the acerbic team manager, sour as a half-time lemon, while Jill Halfpenny does well with the thankless business of a life spent on the touchline. The beautiful game? Pele ought to see this and think again.

• Until February 3. Box office: 01482 323638.