Time for Kraft and the Revs to put up, or shut up

As I’ve previously noted in the paper of record for Fitchburg and Leominster, the New England Revolution are in the midst of their annual summer spiral. Even with what I’ve called a pretty good offense, one that hasn’t shown up much in recent weeks, the club is in a free fall, one with no sign of letting up.

And as I’ve noted since the middle of last year, a club can have all the offensive-minded players with a great nose for the goal. It starts and ends with the defense, though—and this is a defense that seemingly hasn’t improved. In fact, I think they’ve just gotten worse. 

In the first 12 minutes of Saturday night’s match with the Red Bulls, the Revolution looked like the Japanese women did against the U.S. in the Women’s World Cup Final. In a word, they were crap. They were piss poor. They were shambolic. Barely an eighth of the match gone, New York had a 3-0 lead, and in the process made the Revs’ defense look like a bunch of U-10 players in the bodies of grown men.

Seriously: on Bradley Wright-Phillips’ first goal at the tail end of the fourth minute, Lloyd Sam’s chip saw Jose Goncalves try to Tuukka Rask the ball as it headed into the 6-yard box. Then, from between Andrew Farrell and London Woodberry, Wright-Phillips then out-leaped the pairing to get his noggin on the ball, easily putting the Red Bulls out on the front foot.

On the second goal, the Revs were simply standing around at the top of the 18 as the Red Bulls passed the football around, until Mike Grella found Sam sneaking behind the defense and slotting out of Bobby Shuttleworth’s reach to start the tenth minute of the match.

Then, with the Revs realizing the match had started and down two goals, they actually started moving and reacting—but as I watched the match, I scratched my head as they sat back in defense and let the Red Bulls have acres of space in possession. Smelling blood in the water, New York dictated the play, and it ended with Wright-Phillips doing exactly what Wright-Phillips does: the Red Bulls poacher charged in and, with a nifty 1-2 with Dax McCarthy, slipped in to the right and slotted home. 3-nil, and that was that. Barely 12 minutes in, and New York had the three points wrapped up in a nice little bow.

And while the Revs managed to score a goal later—and seriously, when nothing is going right for you over the course of a month, you can’t even buy a call from the AR—the team didn’t keep the pressure on. They lacked the urgency necessary to deliver for the 700-800 Revolution supporters that bussed down from Foxboro to inevitably watch their favorite MLS club defecate the linens.

Jay Heaps and the players came out post-match and took responsibility for the crap performance. That’s good. I’m glad they realize how crap they were.

But maybe, just maybe, someone else, someone a little higher, needs to come out and apologize to the supporters, too—or he needs to give control of the pursestrings to someone who cares as much as the supporters.

When the Revs had the summer swoon last year, the front office actually did something to rectify the situation, much to the sheer amazement of the supporters; they signed midfielder Jermaine Jones as a designated player, the first true big name they’ve brought into the club in some time following his performance in Brazil, and things turned around within two weeks. With his calming presence in the defensive midfield, the club started to get on a roll. They made up ground in the Eastern Conference, entered the playoffs with hope, and won the East with some magical performances. It was a great time to be a Revs supporter.

At the MLS Cup Final, Revolution owner Bob Kraft told the supporters who flew out to southern California that they deserve a top-notch team after the season they’ve had, after years of waiting for a return to the league’s championship. 

What have we got since then? 

This year, the same thing is happening, and Jones is in the trainer’s room with his second long-term injury in seven months. The calming presence, the presence that every team had to mark and, in essence, leave someone else open to do their thing, is gone. No one has responded or taken up that mantle of leadership. What are we hearing from the front office?

That’s right. We’re hearing crickets. The Revs have lost six straight in all competitions, and have one win in the 13 matches since I turned 38 on May 3. 

And that, my friends, is simply unacceptable.

Here’s what the front office has done since the Final on Dec 7: They haven’t repaired a depleted defense after the front office did not replace the departing A.J. Soares—not that the defense was truly good with Soares to begin with. Sure, they brought in Juan Agudelo, but he hasn’t done much of note. They gave New York City FC and Orlando City allocation money in order to keep Diego Fagundez from getting taken in the expansion draft.

What else have they done? Absolutely nothing. 

I know that GM Mike Burns and Revs’ President Brian Bilillo can’t do anything with Uncle Bob’s millions without his consent—but if Kraft’s telling the supporters one thing one season and they do nothing about that the next, something has to give. This team has to get better, a crap FieldTurf surface at Gillette be damned; it may be a good surface for the Pats, but it is crap for soccer, and no, let’s not use the surface they installed for the Gold Cup. The supporters demand this, and maybe it takes an early-match, en masse walk-out by the Midnight Riders and Revs Army to make the front office and ownership see that the situation has now reached desperate proportions. The whole repetitive summer swoon thing is getting old, and it’s getting old pretty darn fast.

Of course, nothing will get done overnight. I realize this. The Revs could have a brilliant week of training, could beat a short-handed New York City—former Chelsea man Frank Lampard strained a calf in training the other day, so he’ll more than likely not take part—to break the skid this Saturday at The Fort, but it’s only one match. Better performances need to happen, and they need to be strung together. If that means someone has to pry Uncle Bob’s purse open—and they have an extra $100,000 from the league now—then so be it. The Revs need defense, and they needed it in March.

If they don’t do something, this season is lost beyond repair.

The line in the sand has been drawn, folks. The supporters are getting frustrated, and truthfully, there is no recourse until Bob Kraft—he may be a great owner in the NFL, but he’s the worst owner in MLS; he wasn’t even at the U.S. Open Cup match, a great opportunity to shake some hands and thank the supporters for coming to a rather cozy venue on the outskirts of the city—does something meaningful like he promised, or another team in another league—did someone say NASL?—steps into the fray and gives soccer fans in the Greater Boston area to the Quabbin Reservoir a team worthy of support.

In other words, Bob: give a damn about this club, spend some money, or sell the club to someone who is willing do those things.

Follow Sean Sweeney on Twitter: @MrSeanMSweeney