…or can they?
If there is one thing that we have learned as Saints supporters over the years it’s that no matter how bad the situation currently is, it could always get worse.
Don’t get me wrong. The Old Trafford disasterclass was humiliating. But what we served up on Saturday at St James’ was every bit as demoralising - just in a very different way.
Newcastle are seven shades of shite. In that first half we made them look like prime Barca.
To be fair, the warning signs had been there. A few weeks ago we somehow made Cedric Soares look like a competent left-back.
On Saturday our defence went to pieces, it was the Southampton of early 2019/20. Every opponent attack was ending in a goal.
But this wasn’t Martial, Rashford and Cavani. It was Almirón, Wilson and a half-fit Saint-Maximin. It was Steve Bruce with nine men ffs.
That final whistle really was a ‘stop the train, I want to get off’ moment.
Just complete frustration wrapped in anger wrapped in despair.
The joys of being a Saints fan.
But let’s not get carried away.
I firmly believe this remains a good team with a good manager.
We have an opportunity on Thursday to reach the quarter-final of the FA Cup. That puts us one game from Wembley (it’s nonsense the semis are played there but that’s by-the-by).
A successful season is still within reach. A Wembley berth and a top-10 finish is still within reach.
This last week has been painful but it doesn’t define the season. At least it doesn’t have to.
We just have to right the ship.
And Ralph is absolutely the right man to do that.
Anyway, Saturday has been and gone, let’s march on - scroll to the bottom of this email for a classic slice of 90s pop that’ll put a smile on your face.