If you think about the game in a vacuum it’s just a fairly bog standard away defeat: compete for much of the game, eventually sink when the pressure gets too much.
Of course this game isn’t a one off, but represents one of a terrible series of results in which Fulham, despite being surrounded by legions of equally dire teams, are thoroughly unable to put anything together. It still feels like the end of the road.
We can say the defeat was slightly unlucky but I can’t have been the only person who expected Jonjo Shelvey to eventually find his range. As has been the case for much of the season, the edge of our area was very much a peaceful no-man’s land, and if Shelvey’s goal took a couple of pings off Fulham defenders on the way in, well maybe someone should have been closer to the player when he shot? Harsh? Maybe, but that’s the difference isn’t it? You can’t charge down all shots from 20 yards but against that, you can charge down some.
Meanwhile, we again offered little going the other way. The 4-3-3 that seemed to have gained some traction has been sacrificed to accommodate various “good ideas” and here we are again looking terrible.
If the Hangeland Burn centre-back pairing was worth going to for psychological relief as much as anything, the same might be said of our forward line. A confident Marcello Trotta, no hoper though wise heads say he is, might still offer more vim than a demoralised Berbatov. Meanwhile, Darren Bent is thoroughly reinventing the notion of what it is to be a false 9. There is no point playing these people anymore.
There’s nothing much to say is there? Fulham are like one of those “Go Compare!” adverts: you see them once a week, you don’t like what you see, then there it is again. They come up with a bright idea to fix it and make it less annoying but it is what it is: it’s still an advert for Go Compare.
Downwards we go.