As around sixteen thousand beleaguered Hibs fans made their way back to their buses, cars, and trains for the long, quiet journey home from Hampden having watched their heroes chalk up another year on the 'since-they-won-the-Scottish-Cup-o-meter', they would have been wondering just how Hibs had managed - again - to take nothing from a game that they utterly dominated.
It has been the story of their season. I've lost count of the number of games Hibs have failed to take full points, having battered their opponents for virtually the full ninety minutes. Home games against Falkirk (twice), Queen of the South, Hearts, Raith (twice), and Dumbarton - and that's just from the top of my head, have seen Hibs put in a commanding performance only to draw or lose the match.
Saturday's Scottish Cup Semi-Final can now be added to that list. Before I dwell on Hibs' failings, I want to congratulate Falkirk for reaching the final. The most important statistic in football is the number of goals scored versus the number conceded, and Falkirk compared favourably in that aspect on Saturday, and so they have a Cup Final to look forward to. Well done to Falkirk, and I genuinely wish them all the best in the final.
So, onto Hibs. Where do you start when trying to explain that defeat? You can criticise the forward players for not taking their chances, and we had plenty of them regardless of what Peter Houston might have you believe. Scott Allan rattled the crossbar after a Gascoigne-esque dribble through the Falkirk defence. Fraser Fyvie had seen a shot tipped onto the post only for the ball to rebound with an almost magnetic precision back into the arms of the grateful Jamie McDonald.
Farid El-Alagui had a first minute header (if you can call the ball bouncing off his head as he lay prone on the ground a 'header') saved on the goal-line. Lewis Stevenson blasted over from eight yards when he seemed more likely to score, just moments after Dylan McGeouch had totally mis-hit his shot to the point where it was closer to trapping the ball than shooting at goal.
Stevenson came close again when a deflected shot looped over McDonald only to drop agonisingly wide of the post, and there were late chances for Malonga and El-Alagui, neither of whom were able to take advantage.
Falkirk, of course, scored in the most ironic of fashions. The referee halted a Hibs attack, Falkirk broke forward and gave their opponents a lesson in clinical finishing. Mark Oxley had been a virtual spectator in the second half at Hampden, his only contribution prior to conceding had been to tip a speculative effort round the post early in the second half. Falkirk had, by my count, three chances in the second half in total, and scored with one of them.
It's hard to pinpoint why this has happened to Hibs so frequently this season. You can criticise the defence, but then you'd think they would deserve praise for limiting the opposition to three chances. Then again, how can you praise a defence that concedes one goal from three chances, compared to Falkirk who conceded none from goodness knows how many.
Perhaps it's a lack of concentration. If it was only once that a game had gone this way, you could attribute it to bad luck, but when it's happened with a depressing regularity then it surely can't just be luck.
Alan Stubbs must take some responsibility - it's been a season long problem at both ends of the park. If Hibs had taken chances with the same efficiency as our opponents this season, it would have been Hibs rather than Hearts that had romped the league with plenty to spare. Hibs haven't though, and Hearts have, and that's why they were worthy winners.
Stubbs must now look at his side and find a way to address this wastefulness in front of goal, and the carelessness in defence, in order that his side has any chance of promotion this season. Stubbs cannot afford to attribute the poor results to mere bad luck, no matter how much he may protest that his side deserved to win the game (and few neutrals would argue with him), the fact of the matter is that again, his Hibs side were trumped by a sucker punch, and lost the match.
I like Alan Stubbs. I like the way he sets Hibs up to play and I like that he isn't shy in saying that the better team lost. It's refreshing, and his style of play is pleasing on the eye, in stark contrast to his recent predecessors in the Easter Road hot-seat. There is a real lack of a cutting edge, no ruthlessness or mean streak in the side, and he needs to find that, and find it soon.
Stubbs has challenged his side to go and get the promotion their play deserves, but that play will only deserve promotion if it finds an end product. Teams don't get promoted for missing chances or keeping the ball. You can have all the possession in the world, if you don't score and you can't prevent the opposition scoring, then you don't deserve to get promoted. I think it's important that Stubbs acknowledges that, if not publicly then at least within the confines of the Easter Road/East Mains dressing rooms.
The players can't be allowed to continue to put costly defeats like Saturday's down to bad luck. They have to be aware that they are ultimately responsible for the fine margins that have gone against them. Is it bad luck or bad finishing to hit the bar from fifteen yards out? Is it bad luck that you swing a boot at the ball with the goal gaping and send the ball three feet over the crossbar? Is it bad luck that you find yourself conceding - again - from the only chance your opponent carves out?
Passing it off as bad luck removes the need to make an improvement. I'm not expecting to see Stubbs chastise his players for their inefficiencies in public, in fact, I wouldn't expect him to hammer them in private either, but I would expect him to seek improvement and to make the players accountable.
Hibs' season is teetering on the brink now - the cup had proven to be a welcome distraction and the prospect of finishing the season with the play-offs and a cup final to look forward to was exciting. Now there is the very real prospect of Hibs finishing the season with nothing to show for the undeniable improvements that Stubbs and his coaching team have made. Hibs have three league games left to put themselves in with a shout of finishing second, but they are now reliant on Rangers slipping up.
Even finishing second won't guarantee Hibs promotion, if they continue to mis-fire as they did against Falkirk and countless other teams this season. These fine margins are critical now, and unless Hibs do more to make those margins count in their favour, then there's a huge risk that any progress will be overlooked in the anger and disappointment that will inevitably consume large chunks of the Hibs support, who will have at least another Championship season to face. For a club Hibs' size, that is almost unthinkable.
In fairness, the players do not deserve a hard time for their performance on Saturday. The team played well, with some great football and you'll struggle to see a more dominant performance from a team all season. Had that game finished 1-0 to Hibs, people would have been enthusing over the way that Hibs controlled the game and kept Falkirk at arms' length throughout. It didn't though, and in the aftermath it's easy to lose sight of the fact that Hibs performed at a good level, without it being good enough to take them into the Scottish Cup Final.
And so it goes, another year to the record. I think that's 114 now. I sometimes get asked if it hurts more with each year, and I liken it to playing the lottery, which I haven't yet won at many more than 114 times of asking. Sometimes I get close to it, there's been a few times where I've had four numbers but never enough to retire early or get a holiday home somewhere sunnier than Leith. That winning combination eludes me, sometimes twice a week, yet the disappointment lasts just a few moments and never dampens the anticipation that maybe - just maybe - the next draw will be the one. I feel like that with the Scottish Cup these days. Yes, if and when Hibs do win the bloody thing, the hangover I will have after it is beyond my comprehension at the moment. However I'm long since past the point of beating myself up about it when the inevitable cup disappointment comes around again.
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