Oh No George!

Charlton Athletic 0 - Millwall 0

I don't mind admitting I exited the Valley yesterday feeling completely gutted. 

This wasn't really fair on the events of the day but I'm sure I wasn't alone.

The performance from our team had been good. 

The now 'traditional' bending over to be spanked by our nearest neighbours had failed to materialise.

The opposition team had been kept at bay, not really testing the late stand in 'keeper Pope.

The (ahem) 'twelfth man' we had been promised would be roaring the visitors to victory were drowned out every time they, very occasionally, raised their voices above a murmur.

For the majority of the game I'd not really been worried about the possibility of a loss.

-All fairly relaxing. 

This was a 'new' Charlton derby experience.

Except it wasn't. 

I can't recall actually winning a derby game since playing against Crystal Palace in January 2009.

(I'm sure someone will correct me if I'm wrong).

No sooner had I announced that I really hadn't seen anything yet from Coquelin to make me think he'd be getting into the Arsenal team, he turned it on and became our best player.

All over the pitch Charlton were winning the little battles - not least Chris Solly who is starting to return to being 'that' player Lawrie Wilson was brought in to replace as we all knew he was off to the Premiership sooner rather than later.

The game ebbed and flowed, Millwall having their own brief period of ascendency after they made some good substitutions, Easter and Fuller changing the dynamics of their play.

Yet still we weren't troubled and I felt sure we'd hold onto our record of being unbeaten at home, unless there was another one of those calamity connections where we were robbed by a horrible deflection.

With the game entering 5 minutes of added on time Charlton were pushing forward and Millwall were having to defend for their lives.

Then came the golden, (platinum?) opportunity we've waited so long for.

In almost the final few seconds of the game there was a moment I've played over and over in my head, though probably not as many times as George Tucudean.

His life could have been so, so different.

In 40 years time, as an older man, when coming back to visit the Valley, he'd be lauded onto the pitch and cheered to the rafters when being announced to the crowd. 

He'd have been a hero. 

His name would be sung, his face on t- shirts, a glorious image of him wheeling away in celebration while all around him there is pandemonium would have been circulating on social media, people changing their profiles to include the name 'George'…..

Oh George.

In fairness to the young Romanian, it's not like he was trying to cock it up. 

He, like us, was desperate for him to put the ball into the net.

I mean, it's not like he's a footballer or anything, training every day to kick a ball is it?

Grrr.

The failing of George to put his foot through the ball and get it into the more or less unguarded net has it's roots in his last outing for Charlton.

Away at Reading, 1-0 up and with the clock running down, he had the opportunity to kill the game off when going 'one on one' with the 'keeper.

He blasted the ball straight at the bloke between the sticks and the chance was gone.

Yesterday, when he really should have blasted the ball he hung on, played a rather weedy chip over the approaching custodian and then found he didn't have the strength to finish the job off.

George probably thought he'd learned from his mistake at Reading.

Unfortunately, it didn't work out.

He could have been George Best. He could have been George Clooney. He could have been George Harrison.

He went home feeling like George at Asda with the popularity rating of George Osborne.

Oh No George!