October 20, 2002 was a very bad day. Before then I had nothing much against the New England Revolution. They were just another team in Major League Soccer, a sort of Kansas City Wizards of the northeast.

Then it happened, an event that instilled in me an unmatched antipathy for the Revs, an antipathy that has been festering in a dark and bitter crevice in my heart ever since they allowed Carlos Ruiz to score the game winning goal in the 2002 MLS Cup.

As I see it there is a certain order to the Major League Soccer universe, and part of that order requires the Los Angeles Galaxy to be the great team that always loses the big game. Make no mistake. In our little MLS pond the big game is the MLS Cup, and until 2002 the Galaxy had always lost the big game. DC United beat them in 1996 and 1999. San Jose beat them in 2001. The Revolution should have beaten them in 2002. It would have been the right thing to do.

But no, the Revs had to occasion the cosmic hiccup that was Carlos and Cobi hoisting the Alan I. Rothenberg trophy.

Nothing will ever make up for that debacle. But if the Revs win this year at least they won’t compound their original failure.

Fernando Clavijo! You disappoint me.

You see, Fernando, I had great hope for you. Great hope! I wanted you and your Colorado Rapids to take home the MLS Cup, and I wanted you to do it in a style never before witnessed in this league’s ten short years – without a playoff win, by penalty kicks alone. Had you done that then I could have waxed eloquent upon the Genius of Clavijo.

There would have been two parts to that genius. The first part you revealed earlier this week in an interview over at USSoccerPlayers.com. “What was your least favorite school subject,” they asked. “History,” you replied, “Why work in something that is over when it is so much to learn about today and our future.” Genius! Screw history. Think only of the future. I know what that means in the MLS-world. Screw the regular season. Think only of the playoffs.

The second part? Don’t lose, and then trust in Joe Cannon. (Well, maybe that’s three parts.)

If only the Rapids had done the job against Los Angeles then I could have lauded your brilliance. If only, if only. But the Rapids lost and now I’m compelled instead to write about the Foolishness of Fernando.

You cannot build a team with Terry Cooke on the right, a whole bunch of defense first-and-seconders behind him and a whole bunch of offense first and seconders in front of him. Oh, sure, sometimes you had Pablo Mastroeni in midfield, but not all that often. He wasn’t even available for half the season, and when it really counted in that fatal final game you played him in the back, not in the midfield. What’s that? Yes, I know Jovan was supposed to provide some midfield control and vision. Lots of things are supposed to happen. Often times they don’t, and that’s particularly true when it comes to “Have I ever told you I was at Man United with Beckham?” Kirovski.

I will leave you with one last thought, Fernando. History is our friend and guide. It’s a shame you didn’t learn that back in your schoolboy days because those who don’t learn from Major League Soccer’s history are doomed to sign Jovan Kirovski, Wolde Harris, and Diego Serna.