The silence of the lambs: Man Utd's pain is far from over
Sports News Blitz’s Robert Bore is in agony after witnessing yet another harrowing collapse from Manchester United - a pain that only gets worse with time.
United Meh!
The Silence of the Lamb.
Hannibal Lecter: After your father's murder, you were orphaned. You went to live with cousins on a sheep and horse ranch in Montana. And?
FBI agent Clarice Starling: And one morning I just ran away.
HL: Not "just", Clarice. What set you off? You started at what time? Early. Still dark. Then something woke you, didn't it? Was it a dream? What was it?
CS: I heard a strange noise.
HL: What was it?
CS: It was screaming. Some kind of screaming. Like a child's voice.
HL: What did you do?
CS: I went downstairs. Outside. I crept up into the barn. I was so scared to look inside, but I had to.
HL: What did you see, Clarice? What did you see?
CS: Lambs. They were screaming.
HL: They were slaughtering the spring lambs?
CS: They were screaming.
HL: And you ran away?
CS: No. First I tried to free them. I opened the gate to their pen, but they wouldn't run. They just stood there, confused. They wouldn't run.
HL: But you could and you did, didn't you?
CS: Yes. I took one lamb and I ran away as fast as I could.
HL: Where were you going, Clarice?
CS: I don't know. I didn't have any food, any water and it was very cold, very cold. I thought...I thought if I could save just one, but...He was so heavy. So heavy...I didn't get more than a few miles when the sheriff's car picked me up.
The rancher was so angry, he sent me to live at the orphanage in Bozeman. I never saw the ranch again.
HL: What became of your lamb, Clarice?
CS: He killed him.
HL: You still wake up sometimes, don't you? Wake up in the dark and hear the screaming of the lambs?
CS: Yes.
HL: And you think if you save poor Catherine, you could make them stop don't you? You think if Catherine lives, you won't wake up in the dark ever again, to that awful screaming of the lambs.
CS: I don't know. I don't know.
HL: Thank you, Clarice. Thank you.
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Clarice Starling, meet your older, balder twin
I'm obviously the older version of Clarice Starling. A balder and less attractive Clarice. Although I'm not in law enforcement and I don't own a gun.
My lambs were finally silenced on Wednesday night after lambing season ended without a fight, punctuating one of the worst seasons in the club's history and statistically the worst in my living memory.
Bilbao's San Mames was my barn as I peered nervously at the events unfolding, or more accurately not unfolding.
Spurs boss Ange Postecoglu was the ruthless rancher, unrelenting and unrepentant in his goal, his footballing principles rightly compromised in order to deliver that prime meat to market - in the shape of a Europa League trophy and that all-important Champions League football.
And what of that lamb? So heavy. A leaden burden on these shoulders. Portuguese, thick hair, trim beard, immensely likeable. Ruben Amorim.
Why didn't you run Ruben? I opened the gate for you, all you had to do was run through it and find emancipation.
But you stood there, looking at your half-time bench and choosing to stand still, while those around you who knew what was coming screamed, desperate to prevent the slaughter. Helpless while the rancher and his men inflicted the inevitable death blow.
The slaughter in Spain and the lamb that wouldn’t run
The game needs no review, it's too painful.
That awful screaming.
And the ramifications of that miserable evening will reverberate into the summer and beyond.
And our lamb, the latest in a list from David Moyes through to Erik ten Hag before him, the lack of Europa deliverance leaving him at that sacrificial alter as the latest potential victim of a club filled to the brim with toxicity.
So what now?
The Portuguese offered himself up with front and dignity in the aftermath but what's the point?
Chopping him now means the cycle starts again. Even more round pegs in square holes to try and re-shape and no time to do it.
But seriously, what was he thinking?
There has been a huge slice of 'benefit of the doubt' given to the coach over recent weeks as league position was traded for European salvation.
Case in point the 1-0 defeat at Chelsea where the naysayers complained about the result and, in particular the final 25 minutes, when the players were clearly in self-preservation mode; focused on Tottenham with their engines seemingly primed.
But the backfire was louder than a gunshot and just as devastating.
Alejandro Garnacho being benched had some logic to it as Mason Mount had shone since his return and not many moaned too loudly in the hour before kick-off about that decision.
Amad, our liveliest player all season and also in the first half, was a no-brainer. Rasmus Hojlund, a 6ft+ question mark!
Was Joshua Zirkzee really an option to start and offer up perhaps a strong opening 45 minutes before letting the Dane loose in the second half? Maybe? Probably not.
But fit for bench should mean fit to start. Hojlund didn't fear them or give them anything to think about.
However, it was blatantly obvious that Garnacho should have been on at half-time and that Hojlund was getting the predictable short-shrift from a comfortable Spurs backline.
Throw in Bruno Fernandes' worst performance of the season and Casemiro reverting to early-season type and the problem was there for all to see.
There was no real Plan B? Not even Harry Maguire and his ample noggin could provide a rescue this time.
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A plan? What plan?
Speaking of plans, you simply have to hope and pray there is one going forward.
But forward-thinking is not something you associate with my club, certainly not in the Glazer era and certainly not in the last couple of years.
From Ten Hag's new contract to the Dan Ashworth saga, they have been flying by the seat of their pants for so long that it was only a matter of time before those trousers were pulled down and the collective United arse took a proper spanking.
And now those Old Trafford cheeks are glowing like the embers of Sir Alex Ferguson's dynasty, or maybe Fred the Red's suit.
If a cloud can have a silver lining, it is that the owners won't be able to paper over the cracks this time.
No back door European entry, reduced sponsorship payments and the much-needed playing staff cull.
But, like the wider club staff, expect some innocent victims to turn into lambs.
What does this mean for Kobbie Mainoo, other promising Academy graduates and Mr Garnacho, who looks to have burned his bridges with his post-match Instagram shenanigans - even if he was only saying what everyone else was thinking?
The screaming is set to continue.
