Charlton Athletic 0 - Wolves 2

Another appalling display was served up yesterday by the home side at The Valley, this time for the delectation of the usual die hards but also kids who could find an adult willing to spend a pound on them.

The larger than I anticipated crowd showed that perhaps the chance of grabbing a bargain has a stronger pull than most people's inbuilt quality filter. 

I'd joked with friends that £1 to see Charlton was daylight robbery at present but there were a few moments worthy of the 100 pence expense.

Surely it was worth 50p to see the referee Keith Hill go down like a sack of spuds after a clash of heads with our own Big Mac?

We all know head injuries can be scarily serious but everyone also knows that any kind of pratfall involving an official necessitates a jolly good cheer and chuckles all round.

 It could only have been more 'amusing' if he'd been struck in the knackers.

Hill was treated for quite some time before he finally got up.

He seemed anxious to end his afternoon and almost straight away he blew for half time, with by my reckoning at least 2 or 3 minutes of added on time still remaining.

Hill did not return for the second half. 

Personally, the highlight of the afternoon was the spontaneous eruption of anger towards our absent owner, his under qualified puppet and their woeful, floundering latest 'right man' interim coach.

All parts of the ground stood to mock our CEO's public announcement that it is a mere 2% of negative grumblers who aren't satisfied with the direction *our* club is heading. 

Even the Wolves supporters clapped making it impossible to pretend nothing was happening. 

Surely worth another 50p?

As far as the game went, one team was organised, had ideas and looked likely to score, had an experienced coach and pushed on to a deserved but routine win.

The other team was Charlton.

Even if I'd not read the latest VOTV before kick off and at half time, I would have been particularly vocal against our current owners but after reading the Varney email string they published, I was moving towards utter contempt.

Our club needs a massive change. 

Sofas, pie cams and marketing gimmicks are all well and good (actually NOT good but understandable) if the team are pulling it off and there is a feeling of togetherness. Ironic 'crapness' could be amusing in a sold out stadium with a feel good factor. 

Not so at present.

At present, even if RD and KM copied Leicester City and presented everyone of drinking age with a free beer, I'd find a way to work myself up into a tizzy about it because they have 'lost' me, and thousands of other long term supporters. 

We need a very, very good January transfer window for any kind of unity of purpose to return between fans and hierarchy.

Shall I hold my breath?

Seasons Greetings

Seasons Greetings (obviously not football season), to all, -or nearly all-, of the people who've stopped by here over the last year to glance at my missives.

The infrequent nature of my blogging is mainly down to my unwillingness to be a 100% moaner. 

It's very tough not to get on a roll and have a rant when thinking about the current plight of CAFC.

There are wonderful things happening in the world that fill me with joy and happiness. 

Charlton Athletic is no longer one of these things.

While there have been many changes in my life involving births, deaths, marriage breakdown, serious illness and all the other things that thread together to form 'being a grown up', the one constant has been the excitement and enjoyment of following Charlton, win or lose.

Unfortunately, the Charlton that we all remember from just over 2 years ago has gone and I am getting no pleasure from it at all.

The unity once experienced between the club and the supporters has been replaced by infighting, rumour, counter rumour, conspiracy theories and plain old lies.

We have the richest owner we've ever had, yet we are drip fed nuggets of being 'over budget' when it comes to the part of the business that laces up their boots, while extraordinary sums are being spent on the training ground and the Valley infrastructure.

A man who obviously is no fool when it comes to money and getting hold of it, has trusted the day to day management of a multimillion pound organisation with someone who has so little experience they've yet to prove they could manage a sweet shop.

The *one* part of the organisation most of us really care about, the playing staff, are now under the command of a 5th rate coach whose record is so poor, he should be embarrassed to get in his car and drive to work- yet he's kept on as he's a cheap option hiding behind a fake 'interim' label.

I so wish things could be different.

Despite what RD and KM think, it's not their club.

 It was here long before they'd even heard of Charlton and once they've packed up their failed experiment, there will still be people wanting to support the team in (as The Guardian wrote) this 'unfashionable' part of London.

With a change of heart Roland could be a hero but unfortunately, with the Christmas story in the back of my mind, I'm afraid to say RD is looking more and more like a Herod.

Happy Christmas to all Addicks and let's hope for a better 2016.

M

It's Time To Play The Music. It's Time To Light The Lights.

Burnley 4  - 'Charlton' 0

Here are some Muppets.

Here's another

and another

                                           

and finally.

What a shambles.