TO paraphrase Oscar Wilde, to lose one game may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose two looks like carelessness.

Such a disappointing and unexpected start to the season has deflated the heady optimism with which we ended last season faster than the ESPN handlers could manage as they struggled gormlessly to collapse their helium advertising balloon before kick-off on Monday night. And where there’s disappointment, of course, there’s criticism.

The post-match phone-in on Radio Merseyside had all the usual suspects: Rafa’s team selection; Rafa’s tactics; the opposition tactics; and of course Gillett and Hicks. You’ll remember of course Old Tom giving away that penalty and Uncle George hitting the post.

In fact the only people getting off lightly seemed to be the ones in my mind most culpable: the players.

Having watched the first three games, I can’t escape the nagging feeling that there’s something missing; and I’m not just referring to the departed midfield maestro whose exit I have bemoaned in this column for many weeks. While many are only now seeing the importance of the role Alonso played, his absence alone cannot explain the lack of drive, conviction and imagination.

Most were quick to seize on the performance of the hapless Lucas on Monday, who reverted to type after a highly promising start by conceding a needless free-kick and then completing the double-whammy with a neatly-executed header into his own net. Who needs opponents?

But however much Lucas is a square peg in a round hole, this doesn’t explain why on Monday night passes rarely found a way from red shirt to red shirt; why our forward players displayed less movement than Terry Wogan’s wig; and why some of our players seem more interested in debating refereeing decisions than marking properly at dead balls.