Capable? Yes. Consistent? No.

It seems another Blues campaign is drifting towards an unsatisfying conclusion. Not a collapse, not a triumph - just a flat ending that leaves you asking what all the effort has really added up to. Eight points off Europe, eight clear of relegation, the club are caught in a limbo that robs the last stretch of its meaning. And that’s the worst part: the sense that it could have been something more, but it more than likely won’t be barring some seismic improvements.

Eight points off Europe. Eight points clear of the drop. That’s purgatory. Neither here nor there, not bad enough to panic, not good enough to dream. And yet, if they somehow contrive to lose to both Sligo and Cork in the next two weeks - something I wouldn’t entirely put past them - the nervous glance over the shoulder could return very quickly. That is the maddening thing about this Waterford team. Capable, yes. Consistent, absolutely not.

The FAI Cup exit is still raw. Going out is one thing, but going out to a Cork City side that can barely be described as average is quite another. It was a bitter pill, one that undid a lot of the positivity that had been carefully built since John Coleman walked in the door. Knocked out, and deservedly so. Make stupid mistakes, you make your own luck. That stings far more than the result itself.

WOEFUL DEFENCE

The defence? Woeful. There’s no point sugar-coating it. The backbone of any side hoping to build momentum has been non-existent. Injuries have played their part - Andy Boyle, Darragh Leahy, Kacper Radkowski all missing long stretches - but that excuse only carries so far. Organisation, leadership, resilience: all absent when needed most. And when you’re leaking goals for fun, you can forget about building a platform to challenge.

Recruitment has been hit and miss too. Some of the players brought in weren’t anywhere near the level required. Harsh, maybe, but true. The standout has been Conan Noonan, who has shown fearlessness and flair in a squad that badly needed it. But even that silver lining comes with a sting in the tail - he goes back to Shamrock Rovers at the end of the season. A short-term fix, a long-term gap.

And so, as has been the case far too often, the burden falls on Padraig Amond. Thirty-seven years old, asked week in and week out to carry this team’s creativity and goal threat. It is a testament to his professionalism that he continues to deliver, but it’s also an indictment of the club’s planning. One man cannot do it all. Not at his age, not at this stage. It’s a pity we can’t have 11 of him, but his colleagues have largely left a lot to be desired.

That’s the crux of the issue: Amond is playing like a man ten years younger, but that doesn’t excuse those around him from hiding behind his performances. Where are the players in their prime years stepping up? Where are the summer recruits proving their worth? You can’t pin ambition on a single figure, no matter how good, and hope it carries you through. Relying on Amond has masked wider failings, but as this season fades, those cracks are beginning to show in full light.

The fans see it. The missed opportunities, the same old shortcomings. A few weeks ago, there was genuine momentum, the RSC bouncing, the gates rising, the sense that maybe, just maybe, this could be the year something seismic happened. But football is cruel in its timing, and nothing kills atmosphere quicker than stagnation. Crowds will dip again. Because if the team look like they’re drifting, why wouldn’t the supporters feel the same?

And truthfully, this isn’t a new story. Supporters have been here before. They’ve seen the flashes of brilliance, the nights that convince you this club is ready to take the next step, only for it all to unravel against lesser opposition. That sense of déjà vu is almost worse than the inconsistency itself. Because you start to wonder if lessons are ever learned, or if Waterford are doomed to circle the same cycle of hope, frustration, and resignation season after season.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think the frustration is rooted in delusion. Yes, expectations can be wildly unrealistic at times, but there’s a sense of truth in the disappointment. When you’re so close to turning a campaign into something memorable, when small margins are all that separate you from Europe or a Cup run, failure cuts deeper. Not because mediocrity was expected, but because it was avoidable.

MEANINGLESS FOOTBALL?

This is what makes the final stretch so awkward. The last thing anybody wants is meaningless football. Yet unless Waterford take six points from Sligo and Cork, that’s exactly what the final weeks will be. Window dressing. A dead rubber march to November where “same old, same old” becomes the mantra.

To be fair, this was never going to be an easy season. Losing seven league games in a row earlier in the year put Waterford behind the curve before Coleman ever had a chance to make his mark. Survival looked like the ceiling at that point. And survival, in itself, would not have been a failure. But the new manager bounce has evaporated, the spark is gone, and the Blues now find themselves lodged between a rock and a hard place.

This is make-or-break time, again. Not for trophies or glory - that ship has sailed - but for pride, belief, and direction heading into next year. The players and management have to look at themselves, because the answers lie within. Capable? Absolutely. We’ve seen that. But consistent? Nowhere near enough. The team that hit four in Galway and won at Tolka Park aren’t the same team that played St. Patrick’s Athletic or Cork.

Capability and consistency. The two words never quite matching. Until they do, Waterford FC will stay where they are: stuck in the middle, dreaming big, but waking up with very little to show for it.

Fingers crossed I’m left eating my words come November, but I’m afraid the ship might’ve sailed.