The Fire are identifiable as the team that won routinely a month ago - calm in possession, organized, with an extra gear when they burst out of deep midfield - but they’re just … missing … that cutting edge. And I’m not talking just about Chad Barrett, although he seems to me the most obvious symbol of the insidious advance of mediocrity.

A couple of other things:

- Sacha Kljestan may have that magic thing the USA has been missing in the midfield: Creativity. I don’t know when I’ve seen an American player with a better sense of the attacking possibilities inherent, moment by moment, in the flow of play.

- Chris Rolfe needs to play as a striker, or probably not play. I love the guy, I love his game, but when Francisco Mendoza is muscling you off the ball, maybe midfield isn’t your cup o’tea.

Full time thoughts:

Very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very disappointing.

The passing was poor. No movement. No snap in the counter. No fantasy football - just lump it, chase it. Suck, suck, suck, suck suuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Sucky suckness. The Fire (apparently consuming all the oxygen, or something) created a localized vacuum of some note. I’m surprised it didn’t screw up the weather.

It’s not all about effort. The game needs some sparkle, and this attacking lineup has clearly lost its sparkle. They pressed Chivas early, but Barrett’s pair of misses were the signal to initiate Project: Stationary Football.

And the second half was atrocious, universally. The Fire staggered out of the locker room ashen-faced, looking traumatized - did Hamlett assassinate someone with his mad kung fu to make a point? Has anyone taken a head count of the locker-room personnel? Whatever the reason, the passing was terrible, which meant combining through midfield was out of the question, which led to longball, which led to the deficiencies of our Attackin’ Americans: Rolfe, Barrett, and Mapp.

Rolfe is getting mauled out there - it’s like watching a housecat against rottweilers. It’s not hard to imagine a post-McBride future where Rolfe is restored to his natural movement-striker role and flourishes, but right now the dude is suffering. Barrett is full of muttering and gesticulation again. Mapp … ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, allthebreathjustleftmybody … ehhh … good lord, Justin Mapp. He can do it. He just don’t.

- Kljestan do, though. I wrote something about his sense of attacking possibilities - that should just read possibilities, period. Kljestan was all over the place on defense in the second half, making certain the frustrated Fire stayed frustrated.

So, err … where were we? Oh yes - we were letting Emilio run at us in injury time to win it for DC. And then we staggered around creating nothing much at all in Dallas. Has someone on the Fire forgotten to pay the results provider?

I don’t wanna get all negative, but the Fire were the best team in MLS in the first five games of last season, too. The time to arrest this slide is now, before Gonzo Segares comes back, before we satisfy Trader Mo and finally land McBride. Right now - tonight - against the Gringo Goats.

Dale Fire!

Today, though. Today. Losing at home to those guys in black, losing at home in front of a full house on a perfect evening for football …

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other

I know I should be rending my garments here, and part of me is handling some amount of subconscious garment-rending. I can feel it percolating, waaay down deep there … unless that’s the pulled-pork barbeque I ate at halftime, which would be, err, unfortunate … the rending, I mean. The rending is, uhh, percolating. Either that or the pulled pork. Heh. (Hey, come up with your own damned metaphor next time, and I’ll laugh at it. K? K.)

I’m feeling a bit of guilt for writing this, given how often I follow wins with downbeat analyses like ‘Here’s 12 reasons we shouldn’t have won,’ or something. But here’s the thing: I’m sad the Fire lost, but this is more like it. This was passionate football, skillful, reckless, thrilling. DC had the better of possession (which I’ll take apart later - it’s worrying but fixable, imho), both teams passed well to break pressure and made the little touches in tight spaces that make a difference.

And the players cared. Every man on the field was involved in a physical confrontation at some point, most of them in several, and it wasn’t because Baldomero Toledo let the game get out of hand, or anything like that. It was because the moment always seemed right there, gilt-edged, waiting for someone to claim it, only to dance just out of reach again and again. Frustrating and beautiful.

If we have to lose a game, let it be played like this. Muchas gracias, hermanos.

In the dream, he joined a club already playing well. The club went on to win everything. The striker was covered in glory. Everyone celebrated with a pie and some Old Style.

In the real world, apparently, Frank Klopas is making it happen. Incredible. I’m struggling to hold onto my pessimism here.

Yes. Yes, it was.

I’ll give New York [sic] credit: They brought it the last 15 minutes of the first half. I went into halftime worried that Red Bull were ascendant, that the Fire had expended too much energy in dominating the first 30 minutes. I was worried.

I shouldn’t have been, but I’ve discussed my pessimism before. I mean, the Soumare/Conde tandem in the back had absolutely worked Juan Pablo Angel out of the game. Segares was just erasing Richards. Gutierrez, 8 months older than Claudio Reyna, looked 5 years Captain America’s junior in hounding him totally out of rhythm. In short, whatever was happening with the attack, the Fire had snuffed out every Red Bulls thrust almost before it began.

The attack wasn’t consistent, but it was varied. Barrett has continued to grow into his strengths – I’m curious whether he’s become more of a student of the game in the last year or so. Before, Chad seemed to have no idea what to do with his decent first touch, his strength on the ball, his great work-rate. Now he’s combining well, holding the ball in traffic, and forcing defenders to play outside their comfort zone with the ball. It’s a lot easier to forgive the lad for a couple of gaks in front of goal when he’s doing so much to help the Fire keep possession.

It’s hard to talk about Blanco, in some ways. I’m completely sold. If he plays this way the rest of the year, he’s on the all-time Fire XI in my book. The team looks like it has marinated in his competitiveness, his vision, and his knowledge of the game – his influence is just everywhere.

There’s more – a 5-1 road win will have plenty of positive stories – but man, I gotta get this food off the grill.

Now here’s the thing: anyone can answer. You can answer here, in the comments section, or over there, in Jeff’s comments section. As much as I think my opinion dominates, well, writing should be like football – anyone who can make it work is welcome. Anyone? Anyone? (Feel free to comment both places, y’all. The electrons are freeish.)

- Chad Barrett finished his first chance with the calm and touch of a real, honest-to-goodness forward. Given his already outstanding work rate and strength on the ball, is this the sign that Barrett is here to stay? I’m shocked and delighted.

- If you wagered anything on Richards over Segares on the Fire’s left wing, there’s still time to place a counter-wager for the second half. Is Gonzalo Segares the best left fullback in MLS? In MLS history?

- The long-awaited Conde/Soumare tandem in the center of defense looks strong, confident and aware. If the field needs watering for the second half, perhaps Juan Carlos Osorio’s tears will be sufficient to do the trick.

- Haters need to recognize that Temoc Blanco didn’t fall down when fouled in the box. So eat it.

I hear rumblings that Wilman Conde is playing very well, and Lider Marmol will be on the field in red sooner rather than later. Osorio, meanwhile, is overseeing the Calf Strain All-Stars, a team so saddled with injury, ennui and expectation that all 11 players are signaling ‘sub! sub!’ after an hour.

There’s this moment in the movie Goal: The Dream Begins where the reserve team coach, as practical and direct a Scouser as you could imagine, instructs his young charges, “An’ wha’e’er y’do, don’t let ‘em panic ye into playin’ football.” I imagine Osorio giving this speech, except in football code, and without the great acting performance – the best possible thing for Red Bull is that Chicago come out dancing in the red mist.

I don’t think it’s going to happen, at all. Señor Hamlett and his staff have been absolutely fantastic at preparing the team for the emotional stance of the opposition. Instead of being drawn into pointless machismo standoffs, I look for the Fire to exploit Red Bull’s lack of pace by making the ball do the work. Play futból, boys, and we’ll cane ‘em.

Given the Red Bulls usual attendance on Sunday matches [Osorio] should not be hard to spot, especially with the giant 666 [I, Tom Dunsmore, servant of the Lord] has learned he recently had tattooed on his forehead.

Damn. I was breaking out the man-love jokes again, and Backdraft goes and calls Osorio a servant of the Beast.

Time to up my game. More soon.

Annnnnnnd boy howdy, does it. Toronto 1, DC Utd 0 - Dichio in the 7th, and a snoozer thereafter. Delightful. Here’s the silver lining (to everyone except DC United fans) - you do not support this sad, angry, confused team.

I mean. Two wins, six losses. This is the ‘most authentic team in MLS’? Authentically terrible at this point. Six points from 24. Outta Crooked Jack’s Champs Cup at the first real hurdle. 10 points back before June.

Marcelo Gallardo is going to get an opportunity to either (a) fold quietly, or (b) write a new, gritty chapter into the novel of his career. This DC team needs leadership, confidence, and an identity. Can the Doll make it happen?

Anyway. We’re Fire fans here. And the point is: Sure, we crapped that game away against Houston. Sure, they beat us by grinding when we were gliding. But it could be a lot worse. We could be where DC fans are right now.

Stay strong, y’all. And, y’know, lose your asses off.

Die in a Fire!