I’m glad we went to great lengths to find video of the United States-at-Mexico in a World Cup qualifier, tonight here in Paris.

There is something warmly comforting about seeing certain life events unfold just as they always do.

Mexico 2, U.S. 1, and ’twas ever thus.

First, about the logistics of this thing. Not easy.

The people at the Great Canadian Pub, located on the Left Bank about 100 yards from the Place St-Michel, assured us early today that we would be able to see the match. As I mentioned.

Their confidence was misplaced.

The match was not televised by ESPN, but pretty much everyone in the bar — including the 50 or so Mexico fans that jammed into a small space — assumed it would be.

Instead, we arrived, at 9:30 p.m., to find that 1) they were charging the equivalent of $12 (!) for a pint of Molson draft and 2) the bar’s televisions all were tuned to the Netherlands-at-England friendly, just a half hour before the Mexico and the Yanks were due to kick off.

About then, a Mexico fan took matters into his own hands, and got behind the bar and started searching the computer-operated TV system for a streaming version of the match. He had occasional success.

Sometimes, he was able to call up Telemundo, and Mexico fans would cheer as images from Azteca flickered into the room. But then the sytem would freeze up, or crash, and the crowd would moan. Then he would find this random streaming thing from a site named felipecordoba@ucoz.net … that appeared to have latched onto the Telemundo feed and had someone (perhaps Felipe himself?) attempting to announce the action — which was called by the excitable and voluble Andres Cantor on Telemundo. And we would watch a few more minutes before the next video crash.

It was frustrating for us all.

To make things worse, England fans in the bar (one of a handful of serious sports bars in the city, from what I can tell) were so keen on their lads that the Canadian bar owners were unwilling to put the USA-Mexico game on more than two TVs — one big, behind the bar, and the other small, right above where I was sitting, trying to see the tiny screen with blurred characters while looking around and between two excitable Mexican tourists.

How grainy was the picture? I saw Charlie Davies’ goal in the ninth minute, and I was fairly sure that it was Landon Donovan who made the beautiful pass that Davies ran onto … but not really sure until I got back to the apartment in the Marais, well after midnight, was I able to see it, on this espn.com video clip.

After that promising start … the Americans went flat, as they always do, in Azteca.

They almost immediately began ceding three quarters of the field to Mexico. They fell into a defensive shell, rarely came forward and never came forward in numbers or seemed even remotely dangerous.

From the 15th minute to the 90th, I never for a moment thought the Yanks would score another goal … and I never had the slightest doubt Mexico would score at least two.

The first Mexico goal came in the 19th minute, when Israel Castro took a whack from 25 yards, and it went over Tim Howard’s outstretched arm (what Howard was doing about 10 yards off his line is a question I’d like to ask him) and struck the underside of the crossbar before falling into the goal.

Then, it was just a matter of time. What made it vaguely cruel, for U.S. fans watching  grainy,  occasionally frozen streaming video in a Canadian bar in Paris, was knowing, knowing this was going to end badly. That’s what 0-22-1 on Mexican soil is about.

Make that 0-23-1.

Oh, and the other cruel part? The Yanks appeared to bunker in with a little more order, in the second half, allowing the Mexicans to roam up each wing, but keeping them out of the box fairly well. And then they had only 10 minutes left to get a 1-1 tie, and one point out of Azteca, and that would have been fine … if not expected. But, no, that wasn’t going to happen and, deep down, we all knew it. Americans and Mexicans alike.

So, yes, finally a guy named Efrain Castro sped into the U.S. box, in the 82nd minute, with Donovan, of all people, marking him 1v1. The U.S. back four was too tired or too bored or too distracted to help until it was a desperate situation.

Juarez turned the corner on Donovan at the end line, just short of the goal frame. As central defender Jay DeMerit finally showed up with a lunging tackle attempt, Juarez knocked the ball back to recent substitute Miguel Sabah, who had been left alone by DeMerit, and not picked up by anyone else. And Sabah banged in the winner from about 7 yards.

So, there we are. Same ol’ same ol’. Another annoying loss at Azteca.

Here’s what struck me about the game … viewed through a massively pixelated screen:

–The U.S. players were tired — or anticipated being tired — almost immediately. It was easy to see, especially after the Davies goal gave them a lead. Mexico had scads of room to hold the ball, and probe and attack. The U.S. applied almost no pressure in the attacking half. So, the question must be raised: Is the American reputation for being in great shape undeserved? The whole team appeared to be sucking wind before a half-hour was gone. And that shouldn’t happen to elite soccer players, even at 7,200 feet.

–The U.S. still cannot close out a game. Not like the old-line powers such as Germany, Italy, England. There is too much retreating, and not enough possession and careful, thoughtful going forward to relieve pressure. It turns the concept of “blowing a lead or a tie” into a “when”, not an “if”. (See: Game vs. Italy, Game 2 with Brazil, Confederations Cup.)

–I have no qualms about the U.S. lineup. Not even with Brian Ching starting at forward instead of Jozy Altidore. Most of the time, I would rather have the faster and more skilled Altidore in the lineup, but I believe U.S. coach Bob Bradley was hoping to get the big and bulky Ching out there early to see if the U.S. could score a goal on a restart against the tiny Mexican back line. Knowing he would sub out Ching early in the second half. Steve Cherundolo, back from injury, at right back ahead of Jonathan Spector … well, OK. Cherundolo is in shape for the Germany season, so, sure. Carlos Bocanegra at left back always makes me nervous, because ‘Los just doesn’t have the speed to be out there. I would rather have him in the middle, with Oguchi Onyewu, rather than DeMerit. But if Bocanegra doesn’t play left back, we’re back to the Great Question: Who does? Jonathan Bornstein? Well, maybe not.

–I liked Bradley’s subs. Ching was replaced by midfielder Benny Feilhaber early in the second half, and then Stuart Holden came on for Ricardo Clark, and both of those made sense. Some fresh legs in the middle of the field. And then Altidore for Davies, who seemed stunned when he took a ball in the face while in the wall on a Mexico free kick. Sure. Maybe Jozy could apply some high pressure for the first time in an hour.

–I was not impressed with a single player on the American side. No one played well. No one. Donovan had the one great pass, Davies had the nice goal, but after that. Donovan didn’t really provide good service on restarts, and Davies sort of disappeared. Ching was useless. Michael Bradley and Ricardo Clark were nearly invisible in both the attack and in defense. Clint Dempsey had another of his “where did he go?” games. The back line struggled to 1) keep up and 2) avoid late tackles; Onyewu, DeMerit and Bocanegra all got yellow cards and deserved them. Tim Howard seemed to misplay the first Mexico goal.

Cherundolo was OK, I guess. Anyway, it’s hard to win when almost no one plays well.

–I have no issue with Bob Bradley’s tactics. He had a lineup that I can quibble with only slightly.  He got the early goal that was his dream result. He was able to have his players play conservatively, and try to milk the lead.

Where things went wrong, of course, is that the U.S. packed it in too thoroughly. How many times did one of the eight guys playing in front of Tim Howard win a ball, look up for someone to pass ahead to … and see no one going forward? Twenty times? Thirty? Somebody has to make a break to the other end and be prepared to carry the ball. But the fear of not getting back in time seemed to paralyze the Yanks.

I can’t be too hard on Bradley because no one has won in Mexico. Not Bruce Arena, not Steve Sampson, not Bora Milutinovic. It hasn’t happened. And in this kind of high-tension rivalry, fraught with gamesmanship (we take you to frigid Columbus, Ohio, in February, you take us to steamy Azteca in the middle of an August afternoon), winning on the other team’s soil is very, very difficult.  Until Mexico faced a “B” U.S. team in the Gold Cup final, Mexico hadn’t beaten the Americans on U.S. soil since 1999.

So, at the end of the day, there is this conditioning thing to consider. Are our guys not as fit as they once were? Do they expend so much energy taking leads against top-flight talent that they have nothing left by the second half? (Lots of evidence for that is building up.) And playing at altitude: Doesn’t there have to be a better way to prep for this than U.S. coaches and physios have yet discovered?

And now that we look at the standings … nothing is particularly weird about them. Costa Rica leads with 12 points (pending its game with Honduras later today), the U.S. is second with 10 points, Mexico is third with nine points (from three home wins), Honduras is fourth with seven (with its game still out) and El Salvador is fifth with five (before a game at Trinidad, today).

That’s about what you expect from this group. There is not one “weird” performance there.

The “must-win” team today was Mexico. If it had lost at home, it was at real risk of not getting one of the three guaranteed Concacaf berths to the World Cup. Now it is back in the thick of things because it never loses at home — and has two more matches in Azteca to come. That’s 15 points right there.

Meanwhile, if the U.S. can win its two home games still to be played (El Salvador, in Utah, on Sept. 5) and Costa Rica … it will have at least 16 points, and that ought to be enough to get to South Africa — and it could be more like 19 points, if the Yankees can manage a victory at, say, Trinidad & Tobago. One thing the defeat today did do: It will keep the Yanks from clinching by Game 8. Now it’s more like Game 9, of 10

None of this is weird or unnatural. It is what it is and always has been, and may be still for a long time.

This time, I just happened to see it on a grainy screen in a overcrowded Paris bar with lots of young Mexico fans.