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.

Phew- Made It!

The Fat Lady is warming up her vocal chords. 

Just one more encounter for Charlton Athletic today before we get to spend our weekends doing the Bluewater shuffle or whatever else we try to avoid for 2 months+ each year.

This season will not go down as a 'classic'. 

We started off blowing all my distinctly average expectations out of the water and the first few games under Big Bob were enjoyable, even though the wins were always by the tightest of margins.

Then, the 14 game stretch when we couldn't buy a win was a particularly uninspiring period and we looked to be in freefall.

A recovery after the arrival of Guy Luzon was much more like it but there was far too much to do after the mid season shambles for anything other than mid table safety to be achieved.

For me, the season has been over since the referee at the Den decided he'd like to take centre stage, sending off Chris Solly for being hit in the face with the ball, then refusing to give the eventual winning goal scorer a second booking for a blatant foul.

The 2-1 defeat, grabbed from the jaws of victory in the last 10 minutes, took the stuffing out of our (my) season and it's been rather a limp to the finish line, despite a laughter inducing undeserved win over a patched together and clearly superior on the day Dirty Leeds side.

As ever, I'm looking forward to a rest from football. I do still love the game but I really appreciate having the time away. 

I shall miss my football friends though. Every year we plan to meet up in the close season but it's not quite the same as when you're seeing people sometimes up to twice a week. 

I hope it's a rip roaring game today between two entertaining sides.

It'll probably be us rolling over to have our bellies tickled while all around everyone purrs about Eddie Howe and (always OUR) Yann.

I won't be staying behind to watch Bournmouth receive their baubles. Nothing against them, they've had a fine season, it's just that it's their affair, nothing to do with me.

 Enjoy the Summer break.

M.

Brains

Cardiff City 1- Charlton Athletic 2.

I have a great deal of affection for Cardiff as a destination, if not their football team. 

I went to university in South Wales and thoroughly enjoyed living in the Cardiff districts of Cathays, Riverside and for a while, right by the Heath hospital.

Carefree days and nights were often spent playing snooker (badly), taking in a few rounds (for about 50p) on the world's very worst municipal golf course, (where even the greens had various hazards more usually found on a farmers field), having a kickabout in Roath Park and of course reading texts associated with my course.

As well as the more active pursuits, I credit Cardiff with introducing me to the fine world of proper beer.

When I arrived in South Wales, I was a dedicated Foster's drinker. This was the late 80's so I also showed I had 'class' by drinking Grolsch.

After less than a week in my new environment, I worked out one of my most useful life lessons, - this of course being that I'd been drinking the most appalling pish throughout my learner drinker stage.

I became a dedicated fan of Brains beer products, especially the SA, (skull attack) and Dark.

Even now, all these years later, I still occasionally have a case of Dark sent to me at home.

The game yesterday had Guy Luzon showing his 'brains'. 

He made the changes and kept going for the win when previous Charlton coaches would probably have taken off a striker to pad out the defence, hoping to maintain what we already had.

The arrival of Luzon at Charlton was handled extremely badly, meaning he was going to have to work a minor miracle to win over most of the fans.

Five wins from six is probably that miracle and there's been a definite softening of hardened attitudes and a warmth from the support towards our new head coach.

A dire first half became a marginally better second, until Cardiff took the lead.

All looked lost but nobody had told Tony Watt who skilfully placed the ball into the net for the equaliser.

Simon Church was felled in the penalty area as the game neared the last few minutes. 

Buyens doesn't miss penalties, Charlton ran out 2-1 winners and the celebrations began.

We now have a week before the visit of Blackburn who will hopefully have one eye on their FA cup replay against Liverpool.

Happy Returns?

Charlton Athletic 3 Huddersfield Town 0

The Football for a Fiver lapsed fan / never been a fan but fancy a bargain, crowd packed out the Valley yesterday.

The only spaces I could see were in the Jimmy Seed stand where the Huddersfield fans had also taken advantage of the £5 offer. 

There was an air of anticipation pre game.

The return of Chris Powell to his spiritual home went as well as could be hoped for. 

We got to applaud him as he walked to his (unfamiliar) dugout, he paused to shake hands with many old friends and looked up to see a banner across the other side of the pitch in the East stand with the simple message, "Thanks Chris", then 95% of Charlton supporters stood to applaud him in the 3rd minute.

The people who consider themselves to be 'better fans' than the rest of us were free to keep their arms folded and scowl throughout the minute of applause and then we got on with the game properly.

Football for a Fiver has had a rather 'mixed' history.

What often happens is we invite lots of people back to the Valley, then remind them why they don't come anymore.

Yesterday was different. 

Chris Powell had a thoroughly miserable return while those Fiver Folk certainly got value for their money and were given plenty of reasons why they might consider adding a few more fixtures to their calendars.

Huddersfield started brightly and had obviously been given instructions to try and quieten the bumper crowd.

It was all very even until Cousins and JBG performed a rather obvious 'run over the ball, then your mate lashes it in' free kick routine.

The regular supporters and their Johnnie Come Lately neighbours rose as one and bobbed about like joyful dolphins.

The Ref for a Fiver was constantly being fooled by the rather pathetic Am Dram diving and rolling of Vaughn, who I remember as quite a decent player not long ago. 

Surely he doesn't need to add this cheating to his arsenal of skills?

On one occasion, just in front of us, he leapt forward, arching his back and snapping his head back, pretending he had been given the kind of nudge Giant Haystacks might have performed.

There was absolutely no contact whatsoever and he should be ashamed of himself.

Huddersfield were out of it almost as soon as the second half started when Tony Watt wriggled to make the space then doubled Charlton's lead.

The Charlton team then started to, (excuse my French), quite royally take the piss.

The ball was passed about, Huddersfield not really looking too keen on getting it back.

It got worse for them. They had a lifeline back into the game when Henderson managed to pull off a ridiculously good save, the Huddersfield supporters already up and celebrating the 'goal' he managed to deny.

They were still feeling crestfallen when Tony Watt picked up the ball, ran with it- showing strength to maintain possession, then wellied the ball high into the goal.

Three- nil.

Huddersfield then let their manager down. They really just wanted to go home. Charlton could have scored three or four more but we were all rather content with the score as it was.

One of their blokes, (Robinson?), completely lost his head, having 2 attempts to clobber whoever was nearby. He really had no interest in the ball. He went chasing madly, attempting to send people into the stands, completely disregarding any pretence of being a footballer.

This was just assault.

The Ref for a Fiver really had no choice. It was a red card all day. 

Oddly he called the player towards him who just shook his head and walked away…….

RfF then had to chase the naughty boy half the length of the pitch to wave a yellow card???

Surely, even if the original offence had only been worthy of a yellow, the additional petulance should have seen him getting first dibs on the shower gel?

The game ended with Charlton now really, really taking the piss.

The crowd shouted 'ole' as our team stroked the ball about, Huddersfield still not caring.

There was one passage of play when I counted over 20 passes, not going anywhere, just keeping the ball before a Huddersfield player attempted an interception.

So, happy days at the Valley.

A few beers were quite necessary after another 3-0 win.

What's going on?

If it's Guy Luzon I'm prepared to taste the humble pie and say well done. 

This of course doesn't mean I'm forgiving or forgetting the shambles and untruths surrounding his appointment but now he's here, we have to support the team, if not the regime.

So, see you on Tuesday. 

I'm predicting a crowd around 10,000 less than yesterday!

The Exaggeration Game

Charlton Athletic 3 - Brentford 0.

Football supporters are fond of a massive dollop of hyperbole. 

We aren't born liars, we just like to lay it on a bit thick.

Only a few weeks ago, the less than massed ranks of the Rotherham support were announcing to whoever would listen that they are, 

"By far the Greatest Team, the World has ever seen!"

It's all just a verbal game. 

Nobody believes it for a second yet still it continues. 

"We're a fairly average second tier team who nobody outside our own postcode cares about," 

is closer to the truth for most sides but I can't see that particular verse catching on. 

Pre game yesterday, all I could foresee was a heavy spanking for the Addicks and yet more reasons to go home feeling totally despondent. 

Given just one of my companions agreeing with the suggestion, I'd quite happily have stayed in the pub for a few extra pints rather than heading over to the Valley.

I was comfy, why would I want to put myself through it?

The game on Tuesday against Norwich may have had a short spell when we scored two goals but nobody could argue the Canaries weren't streets ahead of our woeful bunch.

They deserved to win easily, even if the final score didn't reflect that. They were surely more than one goal better than us?

Fast forward a couple of hours yesterday and as far as any eavesdroppers are concerned, I'm piling on the superlatives, laden with dollops of exaggeration myself.

Asked by a Charlton supporting friend who wasn't at the game- and in all honesty hasn't been to the Valley since October, "What was it like?", my response was brief and to the point.

"Hundreds of times better than anything we've seen recently".

Those of us who were present at the Valley yesterday are the ones who know that just this once, that statement really is underplaying it.

After The Love Has Gone

My favourite book is probably shared by many people who 'discovered' reading in their early to mid teens.
I don't mean I couldn't read until then, I'd mastered the mechanics of it, just not much pleasure.

A particularly inspiring teacher sent me on my merry way with a few Steinbeck novels, notably The Pearl and Of Mice and Men, which lead me away from the flimsy copies of Shoot and Mad which along with Look and Learn littered my bedroom.

My favourite book is On the Road by Jack Kerouac. I couldn't say how many times I've read it but I revisit it fairly frequently so it's definitely at least 12+ times.
It never disappoints.

I found myself thinking of Jack Kerouac yesterday after the visit of Rotherham to the Valley.

Kerouac was one of the writers famous for chucking down his thoughts in one long (often punctuation free) stream of consciousness.

I found I was doing much the same while messaging friends post game, - long rambling missives just getting everything out.

I wasn't alone.

I tried my best to move away from Charlton chat and Charlton supporters by avoiding twitter for most of the evening but it was plain to see I wasn't alone with my verbal diarrhoea.

I've pretty much fallen out of love with Charlton Athletic.

There, I've said it.

I sat in the freezing East stand yesterday, watching what was masquerading as entertainment, nursing a barely hidden simmering rage.
I was hating every sodding minute of it.

The morning had gone well.
I'd had a few pints in Greenwich pre game and eaten some excellent street food from the market but once I got to the Valley I really didn't want to be there.
My sour outlook wasn't helped by Crispy deciding he was giving it a miss so once in my place, I had an empty seat next to me, mocking the fact that I'd been too weak willed to stay away, despite nobody forcing me to turn up.

Being without someone to talk to made me realise that actually the football isn't very important to me. Without the football as a reason to get together, it's unlikely I'd be meeting up with Crispy sometimes up to twice a week and that goes for all my other 'football friends'.

I value the company, the shared interest, the exchanging of views and of course the communal aspect of being at the Valley but not the way the soul has been removed from our club.

I hate what's happened to Charlton Athletic.

When we left the Premier league I still loved following the club.
The football was less good but there was a feeling of togetherness and the majority of the players you could tell were proud to wear our shirt.
Even in League one I loved it, though the football was even worse, there was still a collective feeling of who we were and what we stood for.

Now we have a situation where I look at the team and other than a few notable exceptions, it's a load of foreign 'not quite good enoughs' who are just passing through, with no empathy for the club or the area.

Yesterday was a massive turning point for me.
I realised I'm only at Charlton games out of habit.
This season I've been to fewer away games than ever since I started going. I don't feel any affection for the team or club anymore.
It's gone.

Guy Luzon surely broke a record when he had much of the home crowd booing him, only an hour into his first home game.
Our crowd are not stupid. We know we are being taken on a journey we don't want to take.
The highlight of the whole miserable afternoon was the North Upper chanting at Guy Luzon for Roland to sanction a substitution.

Nearly everyone I know who supports Charlton, is seriously contemplating whether to bother with next season. These are not your Johnny come lately supporters. They are all supporters who caught the Valley bug in years preceding the time in the Premiership so they've been around the block a few times.

Now, my circle of friends might not be representative of the fan base as a whole but surely it's a pointer that all is not well.

I have said many times that just because Roland bought the club, we are not obliged to agree with everything he does from that point on.

"But if he hadn't bought us we'd have been broke".

So what? I'm now watching him while he wrecks our club.
 It doesn't make you a 'better' supporter because you blindly follow some crackpot as he's in charge.
It makes you a moronic sheep.

I was pleased when Roland paid out for the club but his first major decisions were to sack Chris Powell and to wave off Yann Kermorgant, who went (unwillingly) to Bournemouth.
It was going to take something pretty spectacular to come back from those black marks and as yet he's not even come close.
He's actually made things worse with the transparent fibs surrounding the employment of Guy Luzon.

I want to feel something for Charlton but at the moment it's like watching a team as a tourist.
Sure I jump up and down when we score, (rarely nowadays- cheers Roland), but then I do that when I go and watch NY Rangers ice hockey or the NY Knicks basketball. They aren't my teams, I have no history with them beyond the annual visits and it's no more of an event than a trip to see a film.

I think Dave from Drinking During the Game managed to put what I feel into words so I suggest you look at this if you haven't already.

Model Behaviour

Watford 5 (FIVE) - Charlton Athletic 0.

Our club used to be considered a 'model', a decent blueprint for other aspiring clubs to follow.

We are still a 'model', it's just I can't imagine there'll be any other clubs looking at this particular way of doing things and wanting to follow the lead.

Yesterday, not one person I spoke to pre game thought we would be benefiting from the supposed New Manager Bounce.

If anything, the events of the last week had made the obvious cracks in the Charlton set up develop into great yawning chasms.

The away support stayed with the team- but didn't stay with each other.

I had to delay a (really quite necessary) trip to the toilets due to a bout of pushing, shoving, raised voices and the inevitable piling in of friends to support their mates, blocking my way to the sweet relief I was needing.

Watford will never have an easier game. 

I'm sure they have to put more effort in when doing their warm down sessions at the end of training.

It's lucky for us we were playing a team who were quite ordinary on the day. 

That's it. 

They were nothing special, yet still managed to give us the biggest hiding I can recall since a rather ineffective  and non festive Boxing Day trip to West Ham back in the Premiership.

We were that bad.

Imagine if we'd been playing a team who were really on fire? 

It could have been time to start rewriting the record books.

Etheridge, the latest in our revolving door of goalkeepers had a good game. Yet we still lost FIVE - nil.

On another day, if our keeper hadn't made some decent stops, it could very easily have been nine or ten- or more.

The only goal he was at fault for was the final free kick. 

From our position behind and to the left of the goal, we called exactly where the shot was heading and where the gap was. It was a well taken strike but the door was well and truly left open.

The game was up well before then though. 

With only 20 minutes on the clock it was clear to see there was only one team in it.

The Charlton crowd split into factions. There was a very large and vocal amount of people chanting for Roland and his smoking pants to leave us alone.

Then there were those people who seem to think they have an inside knowledge, announcing that if it wasn't for him we'd be in administration.

Yeah? And?

The fact that he 'saved' us from the situation with the spivs does not mean we have to agree with everything he ever does, from now until he grows tired of his experiment. 

History has shown that just because you've been on the receiving end of a 'helpful' gesture, it doesn't mean you are indebted forever.

Charles De Gaulle, way before he had been relegated to being known as an airport to the North of Paris, was looked after by the British in London throughout the Second World War.

 It's probably not an exaggeration to say the British saved his life. 

Instead of having a feeling of "merci" towards our country for the rest of his life, he actually turned into one of our greatest thorns, not least when he was the massive party pooper, blocking our entry to the 'Common Market' as it was then.

We don't owe Roland anything. 

Each decision should be taken on it's own merits and when we can see he's not acting in the best interest of our club, or telling porkie pies, he should be told and reminded we were here way, way before he was- and we'll still be here, long after he's just a footnote in a paragraph to be read by future Addicks with a shudder.

I still believe in our club but I don't believe in the arrangement of 'football incest' Roland has set up.

Maybe Guy Luzon is an amazing coach and motivator? I've no idea. 

I do know his English is crap, (as seen on the rather appalling press conference), he has the personality of a damp towel, he knows nothing of our club or the Championship and he's not allowed to work here due to work permit issues.

- Yet Roland says he's "the best man for the job".

Imagine how devastated the fictional 20 other applicants must be feeling to be thought of as a worse prospect than Luzon?

So.

Any positives? 

The new 'Reg Dwight' stand at Watford looks quite tidy.

Johnnie Jackson made the effort to come towards the away section at the end- but even he couldn't bring himself to come nearer than the edge of the penalty area- to applaud the fans who without fail had kept with the team.

Tony Watt made it to the front row and gave away his shirt.

We can get on our high horses and snigger about Watford supporters doing a 'Mexican Wave' but it's grasping at straws.

We were rubbish, Watford won at a canter and we were lucky they didn't go for the jugular.

It's time for us to lick our wounds.