You have to grade games like this on a curve. (I suppose you don’t have to, but I can say that it helps me process the grief.)
We all expected the Fire to lose this game. And they did. But we also expected tonight to be a bloodbath, and it wasn’t. We hoped Cleveland would get the start in goal, and when he did we still worried that he might get torn apart. He did fine, under the circumstances. The team had good moments. Basti scored a worldy. This should all mean something.
But there’s also something so deeply, maddeningly frustrating about games where a close loss where the team did their best feels like the best anyone could’ve hoped for.