Soehn has been moving his players like chess pieces across a minefield--mincingly, fearfully--groping in the dark for a coherent formation and system of play. No wonder, given the absence of stability and familiarity, that this edition of United has not often looked welded-together like a team, especially at key times.
This was true again, with a few exceptions, where, despite individual efforts, United failed to play like a unified force with the season on the line.
The singular image of the match may be of Josh Wicks, after once again losing his mind and coming way off his line, crashing to the ground like he had been shot. Or there was Kocic, flat-footed and gormless, watching as San Jose's first goal found the net. But other pictures shall remain smeared across the screens of our imaginations until they, like the rest of this season, fade into a distant ache.
The first goal. Chris Pontius, playing in the center of the field, finding Ben Olsen on the left and then sprinting flat out--eyes bulging, red faced, sweat spraying in his wake--to overlap around Olsen, receive the ball, and then touch it on to Moreno, who finishes with veteran style.