Statuesque

A row of five on the edge of the six yard box, a row of three on the edge of the penalty area, and a goalkeeper, like nine pins standing rigid, ready to be bowled over. Only Bailey Peacock-Farrell ended up on the ground, but as Josh Murphy scored Norwich City's second goal, my respect for the others fell to the floor.

We've all watched this Leeds United team disintegrate this season, but at Norwich we saw its remains congealing like vomit on the grass. We're now past the point where anybody on the outside can explain what has happened. Somebody on the inside knows, but they're not saying.

Nobody on the inside is doing anything at all. Norwich's goal was the culminating moment of a team that froze in winter that no amount of hairdrying by Heckingbottom can thaw. Leeds United stood like children playing musical statues for the first time: the music had started playing again, but they didn't know the rules. They just stood there, and Norwich walked past them with the ball and scored. Describing a goal should need some more exciting verbs than that.

Rather than ostracise Pierre-Michel Lasogga and Jay-Roy Grot for the balloon party's worth of static they brought to the field at Villa Park, the rest of the team copied their example of minimum effort for minimum reward. After the game, Paul Heckingbottom sounded like a man butting his head against a detuned acoustic guitar, and even his criticism of Tom Pearce seemed half-hearted. I expected him to give him up mid-sentence the way the team gave up mid-match. 'There were too many balls coming down that side and... and you know what... let's just forget it shall we? Not really any point.'

That would have been just as effective as anything he did say. The players didn't look as though they'd be listening closely to any post-match analysis. Watch the video in training? Just stick on one of those long steam train journeys they show on TV in Norway. You could probably have run an interesting test; hand out exam papers, with questions about what had happened in the game at Carrow Road, and see if any of the players could remember anything. Take in the blank papers at the end, and marvel at the blankness of their minds.

After reaching their nadir in Norfolk, what do they have left for the final home game of the season, the Category A entertainment promised against QPR? I have seen many meaningless end of season games, but even the glummest have avoided being grim. But if there's to be a carnival atmosphere on Sunday, it'll be a carnival as if provided by a circus of terrifying hysterical clowns with their oversized shoes nailed to the floor. We've been saying this for a while, but after the last game, nobody wants this game. The shame at Norwich was at least defrayed by being displayed away from Elland Road. Does anybody want to see Leeds United play like that at home?

Which will bring us to the lap of appreciation. If it resembles the Norwich game, it will be like watching a delivery of breeze blocks going by on a lorry. Other clubs have pointed and laughed at us for the way we acted as if the league was won in September, but in retrospect, we didn't go far enough. If we could rewind, the Official Beating of Burton ought to have ended with a vigorous lap of honour, a trophy presentation and a parade. 'Let's pretend we've scored a goal!' is still as popular a cry as ever these days, so why not 'Let's pretend we've won a trophy'? Tin pot, you might say. I'd take a chamber pot these days.