LA Galaxy 4-2 TFC: Golly Gee, What Have You Done To Us?

A terrible first half and a flattering final result are the end result as an undermanned and out of position TFC took on the Galaxy. One game closer to the end.

4 – 2
Juninho 11', 33'
Keane 36', 90'+2
GOALS Dunfield 38'
Silva 42'
DISCIPLINE Johnson 30'
O'Dea 79'
Morgan 84'


"There you go, baby, here am I.
Well you left me here, so I could sit and cry!
Golly gee, what have you done to me?
Well I guess it doesn't matter anymore.
Do you remember baby last September?
How you held me tight, each and every night.
Oh baby how you drove me crazy,
But I guess it doesn't matter any more."

- "It Doesn't Matter Anymore", Buddy Holly

It's almost to the point where we can pretty much cut and copy our reports -- change a few numbers, the names. But it's all just a familiar result. Two Juninho strikes in the first half, and two Robbie Keane goals allowed the LA Galaxy to once again return to the MLS playoffs. Terry Dunfield and Luis Silva both scored, but once again it made absolutely zero difference at the end of the day.

The winless streak for TFC now stand at ten games, with no sign of that ending at any time in the foreseeable future. While Paul Mariner continues to tinker with the lineups while locking new parent Milos Kocic and for-some-reason-that-no-one-can-foresee-why Eric Avila to the bench, we are continually treated to the shoddy performances.

The Galaxy came out firing early in the first half, getting a number of chances on net but unable to capitalize until the 11th minute, when the Galaxy won a short free kick that was poorly defended by Freddy Hall who failed to cover a part of the goal, allowing Juninho to sneak in his first goal of the night. The Brazilian would add a second via a golazo twenty minutes later, a rocket from outside the 18 that zips by Hall.

Keane would get into the action three minutes later, but before you could say hold the phone...who else? Dunfield, off an ugly Marcelo Sarvas defensive job, sends one past Josh Saunders to make it 3-1. The awful defensive work continued, and Silva would cash in late, after a failed attempt to clear by Omar Gonzalez and A.J. DeLaGarza was buried. That was as close as TFC would get, as some weakly-applied late pressure (some of the Benny Hill variety) would result in Keane's second goal -- for which he celebrated in perhaps the worst way ever, given how many times he had failed to cash in (Landon Donovan just as guilty, if not more, of those egregious misses)

The defensive work at both ends were shoddy at best, but the result definitely flatters TFC, who were outshot by a five-to-one margin, and were badly outplayed. There was a clear air of a side that is bereft of any hope or ideas, of a team that isn't playing in their proper places. But at least there was some attempts to make things happen: Darren O'Dea's excellent tackle riled up Donovan, who was already steaming from his halftime comments that railed against his team's inability to score more to TSN.

But despite O'Dea's best efforts, there were still many more that were horrible (just to put it politely) -- Andrew Wiedeman and Ryan Johnson not getting even a look on goal, and Ashtone Morgan being outflanked in a one-on-one duel with Keane on the final goal. The horrors we could go on for days listing, but again, there is no more point. In March, these two teams met. Oh, how TFC supporters wish that our fates had been switched.

* * *


* A golden trophy to...Luis Silva. Proves once again, he is the future of this team. Ugly goal, but hey.

* A mooncake tin to the head to...Robbie Keane. You don't celebrate after you've failed to put away the game a dozen times.

* A mooncake tin to the head to...Freddy Hall. Cover the whole net! Cover the whole net!

* A golden trophy to...Terry Dunfield. This man actually knows how to score! Go figure.

* A golden trophy to...Darren O'Dea. Anyone who makes Landon Donovan cry automatically gets a trophy. Also, great tackle.

* A mooncake tin to the head to...Ashtone Morgan. Defend, man! Defend!

* A very special BOOT UP THE ARSE to...Paul Mariner. Formations? We don't need no stinkin' formations!

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