This time it was going to be different. They told us so. Spirit in the camp was good. Form decent, the opponents crap. At least on the big day the opponents kept their part of the bargain. Once more the talk turned out to be just that and the hot air balloon of expectation was quickly punctured, deflated with great speed and lay limp in front of our very eyes.
They are our team and we follow with faith, hope and the sort of myopia that would embarass Cyclops. But sometimes the truth must out and on this occasion it has to be said that our team bottled it. Again. We are naturally pessimistic with every right to be after so much previous but it is doubtful if there was a Blue in the stadium that didn't know that once Suarez had scored they would go on to get another. And so it came to pass (which is more than Jelavic was given).
Failure to keep hold of the ball, panic under pressure, poor and misjudged passes, hoofed balls to no-one in particular. The opposition with a dicky 3rd choice flapper in goal and not a shot at him. The sight of Jelavic on a self created surging run, looking up to see none of his own players within 30 yards just about summed things up.
It is easy to blame Distin's suicidal back pass. Seamus Coleman's rash challenge giving rise to their second goal was as bad if not worse. There were errors all over the pitch for most of the game that gave comfort and heart to a very ordinary side that grew in confidence as they saw us quivering in our boots.
Some of us are seasoned veterans who no longer have the capacity to be shocked by Everton. Many more are younger and more susceptible to the hurt and anguish that follows such a shambles. The players are feeling sorry for themselves, a missed opportunity. They must know in their heart of hearts that this defeat is far worse, far more serious than the loss to Chelsea in the Cup Final.
You have to go back to 1906 to find the last time we were victorious against them in a cup Semi Final or Final. Disgraceful. And so to Man Utd for the next game with the players vowing to try their best. Like every other year at Old Trafford where they simply turn up at the ground and poo their pants. We want, no demand, better.