Goff's relentless slurping of Curt Onalfo's Kool-Aid, or semen, aside, United is a fixably bad team. There's no question that there's a serious player personnel issue, which Goff persistently chips at but refuses to slap his dick upon: "the fundamental problem is the fact that there just isn't much with which to work." That's true, and Goff goes on to whine about the lack of a ten, and to pretend that the return of the wounded (sadly, the word "Namoff" does not appear anywhere in his blog post or match report, and I fear that BFF is right that we've seen the last of him) will fix something. Sadly, the problem is much deeper, and let's be real: we're getting back Burch, Quaranta, Pontius, and Jakovic. Whine about injuries all you'd like, but that's all we're missing. Let's selectively review, skipping Clyde Simms, who was, laughably, named MotM. Of course, he was the only reasonable choice, because he's about the only surviving member of this team who doesn't spend 90 minutes every game up his own asshole.
Danny Allsop is ordinary. You can put the ball on his feet and there is a 30 percent chance he'll do something with it, and if that happens and the defense breaks down in front of him, he might score. In fact, that's exactly how DCU scoring has happened this season, other than random flukes in the city of my birth. Of course, you'd think that given his success in the last home game, a coach might drive tactics to get the ball to this guy; it happened about three times, and the above probabilistic estimate held. Go figure. Guess what, Goff, you fucking Onalfo fleshlight? I can point to tactics there, and I'd be right. In fact, I'd be more right than you, you fucking equivocating whore. You're really starting to piss me off, Goffinho. How about you go back to reporting the news, and leave off with the dicksucking?
Adam Cristman is a whining, diving pussy. He's utterly fucking worthless, as should be expected of a guy who's spent his soccer life at places we quite rightly despise, that last stop, at the last place where Curt Onalfo utterly failed to justify his use of oxygen, the most telling--the player personnel problem is not entirely on Kasper and Payne. Cristman would rather flop and whine than complete a play. Every. Single. Time. I am not hyperbolizing. "We're not getting the service we need, we're not getting the shots we need," he vomited after last night's game. Wrong, Adam, you giant cringing, whimpering sissybitch. You won't run out the fucking service you get, you squalling infant. Go the fuck away, you repellent piece of shit. Taylor Diving Fucking Twellman, back before he took the big hit, could justify that sort of whining and flopping with some performance. You can't, and you never will. Go away.
Cristian Castillo has a tremendous amount of potential for good, coupled with an ego the size of Jupiter and a vicious streak as wide as the Grand Canyon. He's lucky the idiot in the center last night didn't send him off for his one-and-a-half-footed challenge (a little more on the idiot later). At one point, Castillo unleashed a vicious shot from about 25 yards that wasn't half bad. Unfortunately, it was at least 30 percent bad, and it flew over the bar.
The defense is a fucking sinkhole. The best option for a defensive pull was Pena. Wow. At least this time, when we got us a greasy Argentine, we did not get a greasy Argentine midget. And I've given up on words about Carey Fucking Talley, who was a perfectly serviceable player 15 years ago when he was in his thirties. Jordan Graye may, one day, be fine, and Rotney Wallace will be great, when he finally gets a coach who lets him play at holding mid or left wing, instead of expecting him not to suck at left back.
The emblem of this year's suck is Kurt Morsink, who has no right to wear my proud club's uniform. I must concede that he was not as glaringly awful last night as we've become accustomed to--I yelled at Cristman a lot more than I did at Morsink. He even did something a tiny bit useful in the offense at one point, though I'm damned if I can remember what it was. My prevailing opinion of him has not changed, and is unlikely to do so. He's the one regular who is not fixed, as a problem, by some returning injuree. This is troubling, though what's more troubling is that Onalfo is so bound and determined to put this fucking punkass 1976-edition Beve Staldwin (don't even try, unless you're BFF) on the pitch that he's playing a retard fish-frog formation with two holding mids, leaving no fucking room for anyone to step up and be a ten. And when someone does, it's Morsink.
I have a word about the officiating. I do not believe in holding my counsel about bad officiating for fear of looking like a whiner. The fuckwit in the center made a number of correct calls. The Castillo yellow was, in fact, spot on, and he mostly refused, with one or two exceptions, to let The Pussy Adam Cristman get away with his horseshit. However.
I'd like to know what the thug Conor Casey was paying this fucker. A two-minute sequence late in the game was typical; Casey got beat to a ball at the edge of the 18, and sent a defender ass over teakettle with a two-handed shove. No call. Two minutes later, the same play yielded a DCU foul. Casey is a vicious piece of shit who should not be allowed to play the way he does. He's all elbows and hands and off-ball roughstuff. His anger at being left off the U.S. roster should've been a focal point for the officials (as Cristman's tendency to dive). It doesn't take much for MLS officials to keep games in control, and they don't do it. For any given team, this failure is going to hurt more often than it helps. Ballouchy's goal came at the end of a sequence wherein Rodney Wallace got taken down from behind by a kick to the Achilles, no call on an obvious foul. Would that make DCU better? Hells no. But the way that game was called wasn't fair, and as I've pointed out before, bad teams in a parity league deserve better than what MLS gives them.
Some final notes: win or lose, DCU players have always walked over toward Loud Side at the end of the game, to applaud those who came to sing and chant and scream and set off smoke bombs for them. Not so, this year--players only approached Loud Side after the win, and not all that many did so. Management decision? Maybe. I hope so. The reason I hope so is that it would give me all the more fuel for the burning fire with which I hate Curt Onalfo. If it's not a management decision? Wow. Fuck you, boys. Fuck you.
It always pains me to blaspheme. I have, however, a request for Jaime Moreno: please give a fuck. I watched you not warming up with the others. I watched you not take the armband the first time you came in this season, and every time thereafter. I watched you put out precisely ZIP for the 20 minutes or so you jogged around the pitch. Put out, you fucking fuck, or join Our Sainted Savior Benny on the fucking bench. We love you, Jaime, oh yes we do. Make some effort to deserve it.