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
