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.

Playing the Percentage Game

The appalling events in Paris, two weeks ago, made me hold back from having a gripe about the way my local football club is being run.

Suddenly, my little concerns seemed rather pointless in the grand scheme of things.

Paris is a city I know well.  I have walked down the same streets where the news media congregated, though of course I was usually high on life and Pelforth beers rather than holding back the tears at the madness of the modern world.

If terrorism is going to win we have to change our behaviour - and I refuse to let that happen.

So today it's back to normal and I'm going to be part of the 'negative' support of Charlton Athletic.

We may be moaning but we are at least showing up. 

We are prepared to support the team. There are thousands (not hyperbole, it really is thousands) who are now refusing to attend, many who have already paid via their own Season Tickets.

Millwall Mick is bringing his Ipswich side to the Valley today. 

I've always quite liked him and he is a quality manager.

Just the kind of manager we can only dream of- unless he takes a sabbatical doing a spot of coaching in the Belgian part time leagues to catch the eye of Roly.

McCarthy said in his press conference that Ipswich will be looking forward to this 'local derby'.

I suppose it's all relative but as far as most Londoners are concerned, Ipswich may as well be on the moon.

Today I will be proud to show my dissent against an ownership who, while spending millions, have not captured the essence of what it means to be a football supporter.

Our club used to be the model of ownership-supporter interaction. 

We are now seen as irritants, and that's just the ones who are still showing up!

I hate to use the word 'customers' but any business who treats their own regular supporters with such disdain will crumble.

Be Loud.

Be Proud.

Support the team.

Hate the Regime.

Stand up for the 2%!

Protests Imminent?

  

Anyone who has started following Charlton Athletic since the return to the Valley would probably agree that these are "The Worst of Times".

Even those people who endured the journey to the Supermarket on the Surrey border, would have to say that the current situation at Charlton is pretty dire.

For a new generation of fans who weren't part of the Back to the Valley campaign, this may well be the period they will look back on with either pride or embarrassment.

"Grandad, what did you do in the battle with nasty Roland and Kate?"

Now is the time to step up. 

Direct confrontation is rarely the way to win over the moderates you want to join the cause. It's a very quick and easy way to just get yourselves labelled as the 'mindless and clueless', no matter how valid your point may be.

This is why I would love any protests to include a smattering of humour.

Any bunch of idiots can smash a window and try and get people to take notice.
Unfortunately all that will do is reinforce the negative stereotypes of the angry fan.

How about some passive aggressive slogans?
 

Roland Is A Silly Boy

Down With This Sort Of Thing!

 

Angry But Not Sure How To express It

I'm Peeved.

Just a thought as we approach the weekend.

See you there. 2:30pm, West Stand car park.

 

M

Luzon Sacked

After what Katrien will no doubt call an 'all nighter' but we all know will be texting the next name down on Roly's friend list,  some bloke will be announced and then given a couple of players as a sweetener that Luzon wasn't allowed. 

Results will improve slightly. 

Then it'll all start crashing down again within the year.

Repeat to fade.

A club with a proud history is becoming rather an embarrassment in 2015.

Thanks Guy but you were always on a hiding to nothing.

Catch Up.

Charlton Athletic 2 - Hull City 1

Working around young kids, it would be professional suicide to align myself with Gary Glitter but here I am singing "Hello, Hello, it's good to be back..."

To stretch the Glitter connection into submission, I'd have to answer the question "Did you miss me, when I was away?" with a big fat "No" as not a single person questioned when my return to this blog would be.

Never mind, here I am anyway.

"So why are you feeling the need to 'catch up' today?" I can hear absolutely nobody is asking.

Good question. 

Once I'd witnessed the last game of the 2014/15 season and the Bournemouth team outclassing us on our own pitch, (after bending over to present our nether regions and parts of the West stand for their pleasure), I was pretty sure I'd had enough of football for a while and I was glad of the opportunity to forget about Charlton.

My blog was just an extension of this general apathy towards football.

This feeling of what the kids call 'meh' towards football didn't necessarily mean that I wouldn't be writing anything on here though. 

I sort of intended to but it didn't quite happen.

Some of the pieces for my blog you were spared due to my laissez faire mode of writing include:

*The Who playing live around the corner at the O2

*Fleetwood Mac at the O2

*AC/DC at Wembley Stadium

*Running the BUPA London 10K and raising nearly £800 for Alzheimers Society.

*Holiday to the Greek island Crete, surprisingly untouched by the financial situation of mainland Greece.

*Pre season friendlies at Welling, Dagenham and home to West Ham.

*League and cup games to QPR and Dagenham.

So why today?

The visit of handsome Steve Bruce to the area isn't usually a red letter day and a chance to get the curtains twitching and the bunting out.

I just need to remind myself that I was there.

Like May 25th 1998 and many other games since, including being at Southend in League 1 when Reidy lashed in that late winner, being at Wycombe when Bailey powered through to score in the mist and the late winner scored by captain JJ a few years ago at home to QPR, today was all about the crowd reaction. 

We went absolutely bat shit mental.

The game was excellent/ dire depending upon your perspective.

From a Hull perspective today will be a day to forget. They were absolutely appalling, found it almost impossible to stay on their feet or find each other from passes. Their players really didn't seem to have much of a clue. 

Without key players Charlton looked toothless upfront. 

It was really quite annoying at half time to count all the excellent chances that had gained zero goals.

I felt sure that a manager as experienced as Steve Bruce wouldn't let his team come back in part 2 and play so poorly. We'd bound to get punished.

Just to prove how much I know, Hull were really not up for it in the second half!

Their non appearance on the pitch was matched by their fans.

 It was a hot day and it's a long journey from the North East so they probably needed a rest but I can't recall another away support all sitting down meekly at the Valley for many, many years.

The atmosphere in the home stands had been pretty good all game. 

It was notched up a level once Simon 'Thor' Makienok nodded in his debut goal for the club.

His celebration was rather flamboyant. He seemed to be dedicating his goal to someone obviously not present. We later learned via his twitter feed that he was honouring his late mother so well done to him.

It could have got even better soon afterwards when JBG took advantage of another Hull player wearing his roller skates, leaving him a clear route onto a 1:1 with the 'keeper.

From my angle it looked a fine save by the Hull goalie but JBG was visibly annoyed with himself for not doubling the lead.

There was still nothing coming from Hull. It took over an hour before Nick Pope was tested properly.

It looked as though Charlton were going to have to settle for a 1-0 win, despite being clearly the better side. 

Then disaster.

Suddenly the ball was bouncing off the Charlton upright, it came back into play and Hull had another chance, a bit of a ricochet, the ball seemed to be in Nick Pope's grasp and then suddenly it wasn't.

1-1.

The Hull fans woke up. 

They thought they'd won it soon afterwards when they had the ball in the net again but it was a clear as day offside.

phew!

I'm not really sure where the 8 minutes of injury added on time came from but just at that point when I'd reminded myself why I bloomin hate football, I got a reminder of why I love it.

98 minutes. 

Simon Makienok nodded the ball down to JBG who bravely dived headfirst at it, beating the keeper to win the 3 points.

The Hull players showed yet again their inability to stay on their feet, their legs buckling underneath them.

To say the place went mad would be something of an understatement.

Guy Luzon completely lost it and dived on the rolling players celebratory bundle, getting himself sent to the stands by the referee who really hadn't had much to do all afternoon.

What 

A

Day.

................... and I was there.

M.