Invitation to rant: Leicester City are trending - and descending
We’re opening the floor this week for our writers to let things off their chest. Matt Jedruch is next up.
'Leicester' was trending on Twitter today. I resisted the urge to scroll through and instead assumed that rival football fans, the mainstream football media, and everyone in between had finally come to the realisation that Leicester City are almost definitely going down.
Yes, the 'too good for relegation' Leicester, managed by esteemed coach Brendan Rodgers for most of the season, European semi-finalists last season, with a hugely talented squad including James Maddison, Youri Tielemans and Harvey Barnes.
It’s the midfield, stupid
I would like to begin with a small pop at Dean Smith. Nobody is blaming Smith for the mess that we're in, but he has had enough training sessions and games to have at least a faint idea of what's working and what isn't.
Post-Everton he was quick to acknowledge the difficulties we faced in midfield, and it was crystal clear that Tielemans and Soumare do not have the awareness, mobility, or energy to protect or control the middle of the pitch.
They inexplicably retained their places in Smith's flawed midfield shape against Fulham and we were doomed from the first minute. The familiar gaping holes emerged whilst a weakened Fulham side marauded through, presumably wondering when the fight was coming.
Many fans (myself included) hoped that Fulham would have nothing tangible to play for. On the day, professional pride trumped any semblance of fight or application from this Leicester team, who once again rolled over at the first sign of adversity.
This was no eight goal thriller or xG injustice. We were absolutely battered.
Lack of leaders
We have all seen our fair share of awful Leicester sides over the years, but even at the darkest times there were individuals and personalities you could rely on as consistent performers, vocal leaders, and grafters.
The captaincy merry go round is a damning case in point for a squad so evidently lacking in character and leadership I sometimes wonder how we've managed to reach 30 points this season.
There is nobody to hold this team to a standard once they're on the pitch, and they're all too happy to shrug and accept the collective blame following inevitable poor performances. This is what happens when half of the squad have checked out on their time at Leicester and are wishing the season away.
Our famous state of the art training complex was destined to propel the club to 'the next level' whilst nurturing a conveyor belt of home grown talent.
Seagrave Hotel and Spa is no more than a luxury retreat for these players, who along with the rest of the club have been fooled into believing that a world class training facility automatically translates to rapid player development at all levels as if we're in a Football Manager simulation.
Most fans will agree that we had outgrown Belvoir Drive and needed a new training facility, but the Seagrave project seems to have been an attempt to keep up appearances and has arguably contributed to the complacency poisoning the club.
In hindsight, it was a misjudgement of where the majority of the investment should have gone at a crucial period for the club's growth.
A dire situation
Non-Leicester supporting friends of mine are already predicting that we will bounce straight back to the Premier League at a canter. This is not only disrespectful to some very good Championship teams and managers, but is also a total underestimation of how dire our situation is.
We can safely assume that the club had no contingency plan for relegation, and it will be a case of panic stations behind the scenes whilst the board try to figure out what will be left of the squad, potential managerial candidates, and which transfer targets remain realistic once we drop a division and hit huge financial problems.
We will always have the painfully recent glory days to look back on, and nobody can take that away from us.
Sadly, a group of individuals clearly out of their depth have orchestrated a disastrous ending to the most magical decade in the club's history.
