In the annals of Logica history there are one or two heavy defeats recorded down the years. However there is only one in the modern era that has been worse than this Sunday's defeat at the hands of Pump House. That heaviest defeat came in a first round Cup Tie back in October 1994, when Varsovia handed out a footballing lesson to Logica as well as an 11-0 walloping. At least then the players had some consolation in the fact that Varsovia were in a different league, both literally and metaphorically, coming as they did from the Senior Amateur Premier Division where the standard is so much higher than all the other divisions.

No such crumbs of comfort this time out. Alright, so Pump House were a fairly good side, who won their Division last season by some distance, and who had a fair smattering of good and nippy players, but that really doesn't begin to justify or explain such a scoreline. If we wanted to be honest with ourselves (which we probably don't), then it could be observed that Pump House created a large number of chances outside the goals scored, at least some of which they will be disappointed not to have taken. The two open goals missed by the pint-sized primadonna with the Spandau Ballet haircut in the first fifteen minutes, spring most readily to mind.

So what did go wrong?

It is perhaps worrying that there is no obvious explanation. Its true that the defence showed three new faces from the previous matches, including a brand new keeper Martin Aggrey. What an introduction to Logica Football Club for him! It is a statement of fact to say that he had little chance with any of the goals. There was perhaps one where he might have come off his line as the Pump House player latched onto a long through ball, but at the same time he made a number of other good saves that stopped further goals being conceded. So no scapegoat there.

It was a similar baptism of fire for debutante Mike Marsh at centre half, but he showed in the Logica World Cup that he is not a bad player, even if generally a little hungover first thing in the morning. Conceding three goals in the first five minutes cannot have helped the shaky confidence of the team as a whole, but it most certainly cannot have helped the confidence of these two unfortunates playing their first game for the club.

It must be observed that Logica did not defend well as a team. The Pump House players, whilst fairly quick in general, were given too much time and space and they were almost always first to a loose ball. Despite this Logica saw a fair amount of possession (usually from a restart, admittedly), but the passing was not up to the usual standard and the ball was given away too frequently and too easily. In the second half the game could even be described as end-to-end. The only trouble is that Pump House would go forward and score, after which Logica would go forward and give the ball away at the vital moment, or pick out the wrong pass.

But blaming the defending of the whole team does not help us in our search for a lone scapegoat.

At half time Reevaldo, not for the first time this season, bemoaned the lack of service heading in the direction of his left-field hole. Perhaps the central midfielders were guilty of not looking up, not switching the play quickly enough, not searching out the dextrous feet of the Walsall Wizard at every opportunity. Unfortunately this attempted prosecution also doesn't stand up in court. After such an interval beration, all members of the team spent the entire second half feeding Reevaldo at every opportunity, only to see the Hackney Houdini fail to return the compliment. Over-elaborate dribbles, trying to take on the eighth opponent when he should have passed, trying to score from the most ludicrously acute angles - it was soon clear that the wide man was trying to impress a certain young lady on the touch line, and the providers could be exonerated from the half-time accusation.

Surely the referee must take some of the blame for such a one-sided outcome? Well it is true that in the second half that the man in black ignored a succession of offside flags raised against the Pump House strikers. A Pump House forward was definitely in an offside position for one of the visitors' goals. Not only that, the referee gave a highly dubious verdict of offside in ruling out a Dav Gautam goal, the captain tapping home after Paul Banoub had pulled back a low cross which deflected off the keeper. And this infringement was spied from ten yards inside the Pump House half, with no linesman to help him. Whilst certainly a gross case of injustice, it is probably only possible to talk a 10-0 drubbing into a closely fought 9-1 defeat by virtue of these appalling decisions. So the referee cannot really be held solely responsible.

Failing all else, then, it must be possible to blame the Supremo for this disastrous result? A combination of ill-advised selections and incompetent tactics must surely offer all the evidence required to set up a kangaroo court to scapegoat the gaffer? It is true that legendary Lag Keith Sidaway was controversially recalled largely because Groomo was short of cars to ferry the squad from Clapham Junction to the Stadium. However, it has to be admitted, that the new look, lean, mean, midfield machine was quite effective despite his shirt and shorts flapping baggily in the autumnal breeze.

But how about inexplicably starting with experienced goal machine Mark Abbott as substitute? Surely leaving his vital link-up play, inspiring leadership, clinical finishing, guaranteed 110%, and unselfish tackling back on the bench was inviting the lambastation of the knife-sharpening media fraternity in the event of anything other than a comprehensive victory? Once more, unfortunately, the statistics pages of this very media organ don't quite back up this hypothesis, especially the 'Goals Scored' column. In short, even this imaginative scribe can not suggest anything that Groom should have done differently.

So where does this all fruitless searching for a scapegoat leave us? Somewhat in the shit, unfortunately. At the end of the day, though, a defeat, however embarrassing, can usually be written off against a few well-chosen clichés. So perhaps we should put this one down to experience, erase those ninety nightmare minutes from our collective consciousness courtesy of a generous helping of post-match ale, concentrate on the need to bounce straight back in our next game, and remind ourselves that one swallow does not a summer make. There, sorted.