Sweeney: Pathetic defending changed the narrative way too late

FOXBOROUGH — Let me take you into the world of sports journalism, my friends. Our business — mine and Greg’s and Chris’s and Sean’s and Brian’s and Anthony’s — is a weird one. We can sit in the press box, or stand on the sidelines if it’s a high school game, and we can watch the action and, while doing so, mentally start writing our stories. I can’t speak for my colleagues, but I know I’ve done it countless times.

However — and this happens a lot — there are times where the action on the field — or the pitch, or the ice, or the diamond, or the parquet — takes an absolute drastic turn, and that incredible lede graph which you so lovingly crafted and molded with your own fingers is utterly worthless.

That’s what happened on Blue Level for myself and my fellow scribes Saturday night.

Let me tell you what I wanted this column to be about, what I wanted you to read about on your laptop or tablet or phone while you sip your coffee and pound away on your morning Cocoa Puffs: I wanted to write about the maturity of the New England Revolution.

That’s right. The maturity. I wanted to write about how, when going a man down for the first time since the season opener, the Revolution rebounded almost in an instant. I wanted to write about how The Boys In Blue weren’t the same team that played with 10 and then nine men behind the ball on that cold night in Chester.

I wanted to write about how New England played a little one-two, buckle-my-shoe between Luis Caicedo and Diego Fagundez in the 28^th minute. I wanted to write about how Andrew Farrell absolutely laid out a perfect strike to Caicedo just before the end of the first 45, and how Caicedo scored his first-ever Revolution goal. How can you not be happy for this plucky kid from Apartado, Colombia?

I wanted to write about how they just kept coming. I wanted to write about how they found ample space necessary — acres of plastic, Zlatan-less pasture — to attack, and attack, and attack, thanks to Los Angeles overloading Juan Agudelo’s side of the pitch. And I wanted to write about how this game should give Agudelo confidence moving forward.

But no. No. That’s not what I get to write about today.

I get to write about a defense which, for 89 of the first 90 minutes, played the way Revolution supporters have always wanted them to play: fearless, without worry. Harassing the ever-living hell out of the opposition and helping keep their goalkeeper safe. Playing within themselves, communicating. Everything you want a defense to do.

And then, in 90 seconds, everything came crashing down in a colossal heap — and no, that’s not plural, nor is it a surname.

But didn’t it feel like it was? Didn’t it feel like the old Revs had somehow infiltrated the new and improved Revs for just a minute and a half?

Ball-watching by Antonio Delamea. Slow to react by Claude Dielna. Not tight on the back post — hasn’t anyone been listening to Alexi Lalas during this World Cup? A show of hands will do — and that leads to the equalizer.

Then the match-winner, a pass from the flank that Jalil Anibaba would clear in his sleep. It goes through his legs, and right to Chris Pontius. It goes in the net, and 36,573 fans go home disgruntled, upset, what have you — and the handful of my fellows up here in the press box have to scrap pretty much everything and tell a completely different story.

In the Revs locker room, we generally hear the multiple showers going as we enter for the post-match media availability. Players walk to and from, white towels tight around their waists.

Saturday night, there weren’t many players left when we walked in. The showers were pretty much off. Fagundez got changed. So, too, did Anibaba. Delamea walked out, passing the assembled scribes without acknowledgment.

To say the locker room had the atmosphere of a funeral home would be insulting to funeral homes.

But before that, Revs gaffer Brad Friedel had his say: “I’m very proud of my players and the effort they put in tonight. Going down a man and playing the way we did, I think Sigi (Schmid) said it best about the game, ‘We didn’t deserve that.’ I don’t think (Los Angeles) deserved the win. We did. And to come undone on three goals in the manner that we did is heartbreaking. It’s sickening. But the players know they put in a valiant effort. The players know that we were the better side.

“But the players know we let up three soft goals. And that’s sports. I really can’t say too many negative things other than about the three goals and the fact that we lost, because the players put in a monumental effort. It would be wrong of me to come up and have a go at ‘em because the effort was tremendous.”

No, Brad. No. You can have a go at them, and you should. Hold them accountable and stress to them that switching off in a key moment — in the middle of second-half stoppage time — is purely and utterly shambolic, and that the ones that did owe an apology for dropping absolutely critical points against a team that had absolutely no business winning that football match.

But if you won’t, then I will: Antonio, Jalil, Claude?

That was awful. You just cost your team three points. And you completely changed the narrative of that match.