Once again, I really don't even know what to say about this. We were clearly better than Manchester United for practically the entire game. We should have had at least one goal before the half, and definitely would have if Jack Wilshere had placed his chance anywhere other than David de Gea's stomach. The first United goal should not have gone in -- awful shot, nowhere near going in until Kieran Gibbs' unfortunately-placed foot intervened.
Should have, shouldn't have. Should have, shouldn't have. Those moments turned the game.
I have no idea what's wrong with this team, on a holistic level. Surely over the next six hours or so, and then again for the next week (at least) plenty of people who are paid to have big opinions will come up with something, and some might even make a little bit of sense. Most will likely say whatever gets the most reaction, like usual. All I know is this, which is along the lines of something Ted said right after the game: I feel like there's something wrong with this team, but my every attempt to come up with an answer collides with a wall of cliche. That's anathema to me, so I'm not going for it. Not yet, at least. Maybe something will come to me (or us) later.
Right now, though, the answers escape me.
Here's a song.