Lucky Charm

It's fair to say I haven't brought Charlton much luck this season. Nobody has. There is really quite something gratifying about wearing a crisp new shirt or some other garment of clothing to a game, winning and crowning it your new lucky shirt or pants or socks or whatever it may be. Of course lose, and you'll never venture near the ground wearing it again. Thankfully we're near the season's completion as my wardrobe budget for the year was blown months ago. As you'll discover later, it isn't just Charlton that suffer from my attendance.

We'd booked a week in the Lake District months ago when we carefully balanced the odds of missing the 'in season' prices, yet avoided missing any potential vital games. Thankfully Charlton capitulated against Sheffield United in the cup as I was faced for a long time with the very real possibility of missing a cup semi final at Wembley, best laid plans and all that. Originally it was just the trip to Brighton I'd have to forfeit, although a rearranged Barnsley game later fell into the equation followed quickly by the Bolton fixture which was moved twenty four hours forward to Good Friday, the day of our drive back south. Never mind, three fixtures to excel and pick up points; if there's a great game to be had Charlton are always cruel enough to save it until my eyes are elsewhere. As it transpired I missed two dismal defeats and finally a slightly better performance resulting in a no score draw. You missed a chance there Charlton, missed a chance.

If you thought a break from football was my sole reason for escaping to the country (and goodness knows it's reason enough), you'd be wrong. Upon arriving in the land of Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddle-Duck my first inclination was to Google the local football. Kendal Town seemed closest, a club nestling mid table in the Evo-Stik Division One North, NOT the Northern League as I was quickly informed was something completely different. Not only were 'the Mintcakes' (do they really use that nickname) close, but they were at home the following day against Harrogate Railway Athletic, possibly the most northern sounding team in existence. I just had to go.

The Evo-Stik league is a feeder league to the Conference North with the Premier Division level seven of the pyramid and Division One North and South level eight. I was told I could expect a crowd of about a hundred and fifty, in not only a ground I'd never visited before but a league I'd never witnessed too. Never had a holiday had such a promising start.

The ground was everything you'd expect from a distant northern outpost. A wooden grandstand, rickety roofs of corrugated iron above sections of terracing, a scoreboard on a hill yet not a man with a dog in sight. Perhaps I was a little too north for that? The hospitality of the club was second to none and a credit to not only the league or to football in general but a continuation of the warm welcome I received from the whole community. I thought my strong South London accent and charm would isolate me immediately but I was greeted with a smile everywhere I went, although in typing that I realise that I bought a large quantity of beer everywhere I went too. I certainly never heard the words 'flash cockney git' if they were ever thought...

The club bar served a lovely pint and at reduced prices too, the cheap beer an aid to entice supporters to drink feverishly as half the proceeds over the bar go to the players. Everyone you saw working or wearing club overcoats (the northern version of the club blazer) was a volunteer and happy to tell me all about the community club. The ground is owned I believe by Clarks shoes who ten years ago bought out the K shoes company that was not only owner of the ground but also one of the major employers in the town and survives on the whole, like many other small clubs, from the revenue generated by the social events held in the clubroom. I got the impression the landlords were refreshingly rather proud of the association with the community football team and it's history, and I instantly felt at home.

The game itself was of a slightly better quality than I expected, Kendal kicking uphill for the first half and going into the break 2-0 after their number ten had finished with panache on both occasions. Sitting in the grandstand we could hear the benches with some clarity, the Kendal management team disputing every single decision the officials made with language you never heard on Last of the Summer Wine. The second half saw a penalty a piece as the home side ran out eventual 3-1 winners. As a seemingly meaningless mid table affair it was full of intensity and dedication, nobody ever dreaming of pulling out of a tackle.

I fell for it, I almost wished I lived closer so I could watch their run in and their big local derby on Bank Holiday Monday against Lancaster City. Romanticism in football certainly isn't dead but I've my own love affiliations back at home and as we all know, holiday romances have to remain just that, short lived flings. But you never forget them.

So back home for a day and my attentions turned to my local club Horley Town and their ongoing courting with relegation. A home match with third placed Westfield from Woking may not have been the easiest evaluation of Combined Counties Premier Division (level 9) survival but they certainly gave it a go. And this with me watching from the touchline. On arrival at The New Defence, home of Horley Town, joint caretaker manager Anthony Jupp came over and said words to the effect of "not you again, we never win when you're about". He was of course jesting but if he knew about 'the Charlton effect' he'd demand I bought a new wardrobe for non league alone rather than curse them with Charlton off casts!

Horley battled well against an under strength and young Westfield side but their inexperience and nerves unfortunately got the better of them. Unlucky to concede just before the break, they clawed their way back into the match to gain a deserved equalizer after wonderful skills from the always impressive Ashley Nadesan as he beat a couple of defenders to send in the cross for the goal. But again the similarity to Charlton raised it's head, for the visitors went down the other end nigh on straight from the restart to snatch all the points. It was as gut-wrenching at this level as it is at any other, it's a cruel game for sure when you're struggling.

Things will only get tougher for Horley as they venture to South Park for a Bank Holiday derby tomorrow morning. South Park have already been crowned champions and are looking forward to a season of Ryman (Isthmian) football in August. Sorry Juppy, I plan to go. In fact with an early kick off I can watch Horley in the morning then ride the scooter up the A217 to Sutton United for their last Conference South home league fixture against Concord Rangers in the afternoon. A double header to round off my non league season sounds like a perfect and adulterous orgy of football.

I often find myself drifting, disillusioned with so many aspects of modern football . Normally I catch myself and pull myself back in line but recently it seems harder. I'm married to Charlton, we swore oaths when I was a child at a time in every lads life when he knows there is no turning back and it's the other kids in school that will have to settle for a life of supporting the cup winners. In sickness and in health it's Charlton I'm stuck with but of late my eye roams more than ever. And never with the stunning head turner of a club that has won the heart (wallet) of every replica shirt wearing armchair fan but the plainest of the plain, the club ignored by the masses yet more appreciative of my attention. It is just a harmless 'bit on the side' I tell myself, something to keep me amused while my Charlton are working miles away from home and not giving me a second thought.

I know I'll never leave them, the day out on the beer with your mates, the sound of the Covered End in full voice, It's all too much to throw away, and besides, I don't want to become the badly dressed slightly eccentric old man weighed down by a couple of bulging carrier bags that every non league ground seems to attract. But I'm a bloke and it's only natural for me to get a flustered when the club next door offers me a quick hour and a half behind the bike sheds isn't it?

The Silver Fox

With all the carnival atmosphere surrounding Charlton Athletic and the FA Cup quarter final next weekend, it was easy to almost forget about today's Championship clash at Leicester City.

Fortunately, football is full of 'characters' and no matter how much you may be focused on a weekend away and all the beer that that entails, somebody is always going to steal the headlines and make this a week to remember. That headline grabber today was a rather despicable Premier League manager and unfortunately not a Horley Town footballer heroically saving his club from their continuing perilous flirting with relegation.

Always a man of extremes, I was more than happy to distance myself from next week's trip to Bramall Lane and plant myself firmly on the ground at the other end of the footballing spectrum, by visiting my local club Horley Town today. The Combined Counties Premier Division, level nine in the grand scheme of things, is light years away from BT Sport and ITV fighting over matches they can schedule for ludicrous kick off times. There isn't an armchair season ticket holder in the world that would want to watch the football I witnessed today. To be fair, there weren't many in the small crowd that really wanted to watch either.

Horley find themselves sitting twenty first in a twenty two team table, and today they entertained the bottom club, Bedfont Sports. As six pointers go, this was leaning to a seven. With dwindling crowds, a fixture congestion common to all small clubs that have endured recent flooding, and an injury crisis that has prematurely recruited heavily from the youth team, Horley Town are without doubt facing a crisis. With this in mind they thought up the incentive of half priced admission and a free half time alcoholic beverage on presentation of a flyer on arrival at the turnstile. The need for a half time alcoholic beverage is greater every match I'm told.

I've been to The New Defence, home of Horley Town, a handful of times this season and today was without doubt the poorest I've seen them play. The passing was misdirected, the mistakes were playground-esque, the heads were down and they looked beaten from the off. I spoke briefly to Anthony Jupp, the caretaker manager at the end of the game who was a little lost for words really. He knew it was poor, he bemoaned the injuries that forced his hand with team selection and he was, quite understandably, running out of excuses. Losing 2-0 at home to the one team below you is probably, for a football manager, as low as it gets. I certainly didn't envy him trying to pick those lads back up afterwards in the dressing room.

My attention was unsuspectingly drawn back to Charlton and their game at Leicester when I bumped into an old Charlton supporting friend at half time for my free pint. As well as an Addick, he's also a South Park supporter, a club top of Horley's division (not just an American cartoon), and with their game called off took advantage of the reduced admission price, coming to see life at the other end of the table. Used to watching level nine football of some standard, he openly admitted his surprise as to how shockingly bad the football he was witnessing today compared. It is of course all relative but believe me, no matter how much Charlton disappoint us on a regular basis, it doesn't often get quite as desperate as this.

News of The Foxes wasn't quite that which I expected. Another fox, that of the silver variety, Alan Pardew had sent twitter into meltdown after headbutting Hull City's David Meyler. The former Charlton boss was red carded amidst the fracas that followed, it's not the first time he's got physical on the sidelines either. With a squad of international superstars at his disposal, 'Pards' week in week out lets himself down with dreary monotone press conferences and classless interviews. How a young lower league manager would relish the chance to work with such talent; Anthony Jupp in the face of impending disaster is ten times the man Pardew is and a lot more deserving of success to boot.

So how did Charlton fare today? Leicester's bogey team, on a run of two back to back victories, yes, sure to form we got beat. Three-nil quite convincing, but Leicester are head and shoulders above the rest, the South Park of the Championship. Besides, whether we admit it or not, supporters and players alike we've all got one eye on next week's trip to Sheffield haven't we. Ninety minutes from Wembley; ninety thousand miles from Horley.

One happy Addick

I may well be the only Charlton supporter to have come away from a match this weekend with a smile across my face. It's been an infuriating few days for the Addicks without doubt.

After a poor match against Ipswich last weekend, Chris Powell's side had two important away matches, against sides with varying fortunes yet neither a formality.

On Tuesday Simon Church returned to his former club Reading with a hope (as former players do) of haunting their previous employers and showing the home supporters exactly what they're missing. The Royals needn't have worried, he evidently left his scoring boots at home as did the rest of the squad. In Church's defence, he did have a seemingly good shout for a penalty turned down after being brought to ground minutes before the hosts scored up the other end.

It proved to be too little, Charlton rallied and pressured for the last twenty minutes or so as they consistently seem to, yet the final penetration (again regularly) eluded them. Reading's unbeaten home form remained intact even though they failed to impress, a similar scenario to QPR. These relegated sides from the Premier League either don't seem capable or don't deem it necessary to produce anything more than the bare minimum required to see off their visitors from SE7.

So after the win against Doncaster, Charlton once again found themselves just above the drop zone and facing what was a pre-Christmas six pointer at Huish Park. Yeovil Town would be going into this match in the form of their lives beating both Watford and Blackpool in their last two outings; what back in July would have seemed a certain three points was now looking a formidable task. If our goal shy strike force were to forget those boots again we would certainly require some assistance from the ranks behind them.

Fortunately for Charlton our midfield had been briefed. Cameron Stewart, a future Premier League starlet, wasn't afraid to run at his opponent and scored our first goal in just over four hours of football with a spectacular effort having collected the ball in his own half. Skipper Johnnie Jackson made it two just before the interval settling Charlton hearts down to an unorthodox relaxed pace. I caught news of this at a clubhouse bar many miles from the West Country but my half time pint slipped down much the easier for it.

The second half had a crazy five minute spell when Charlton snatched our content and expansive temperaments back, screwed them up, jumped up and down on them before tossing them into Armitage Shanks and flushing. Yeovil of course had a part to play but, seriously, how could you do this to us Charlton?

A Yeovil ball into the box, seemingly harmless, caught Michael Morrison on the arm and the centre half beat his own goalkeeper. This was unfortunate, Andy Hughes bullying their player off the ball and conceding a penalty four minutes later was just careless. A 2-0 lead wiped away in an instant but worse was still to come. Johnnie Jackson lunged into a tackle in the middle of the park and, having watched it three or four times now, deservedly received a straight red. From being comfortable and in control Charlton had managed to gift the home side a point and had to cling on by their fingernails in the final minutes as to not lose the one they still possessed.

The immediate future doesn't look too good for Chris Powell, high flying Derby visit next and they really do seem to be the divisions on form club at the moment. When you genuinely need a break of some sort, the fixture list always has a habit of 'putting the boot in'.

So why was I still smiling at five o'clock Saturday afternoon. Well I'd decided to catch some level nine football and joined about thirty other hardened folk to watch Horley Town entertain Mole Valley SCR in the Combined Counties League. Horley, my local side find themselves in a similar precarious position in their division as Charlton do in theirs; three points equally as vital for The Clarets as they were for The Addicks.

Mole Valley SCR come from Cobham but originate from Carshalton, the SCR standing for Sutton Common Road. In Carshalton they were known simply as SCR followed by the name Plough or Grapes depending on which public house was sponsoring them. When they started playing Saturday football it changed to simply SCR for they wanted to lose the pub team identity. Yesterday they took to the pitch in a rather fetching pink and purple number which was set off by the pleasing admission of any sponsors name. Unfortunately for them though it gave them a park team look.

Horley, under the caretaker leadership of club legend Anthony Jupp, were soon behind, the visitors running through a sleepy home rear guard in the second minute to score. Ten minutes into the match and Horley led 2-1, their number 10 showing great composure as twice he slotted he ball home; I felt a goal fest was on the cards as I hugged my Bovril.

Horley battled well, their work rate was superb, but tempers started to flair as the game progressed. With every Town attack, the Mole Valley manager took a step nearer an early grave. As animated and vocal as any boss I've ever witnessed we cruelly 'joked' about running a book as to which minute he'd suffer a coronary.

Horley eventually ran out 3-2 winners although they missed a couple of real chances to put the game to bed late on. It was however a vast improvement to the performances I'd previously witnessed there this season, unlike Charlton goals are never hard to come by at this level - at either end!

One thing that always cheers me watching Horley is the ability to hear every word uttered on the pitch. As a Horley midfielder was upended upon entering the opposition's half the referee gave the correct decision and awarded a free kick. The lad picking himself up off the ground shouted out to the official "In all honesty ref I think I'd have gone on to score there" as a ripple of laughter echoed not only on the terrace but on the field of play too.

The referee had a good game, his use of the advantage rule led to Horley's third goal and certainly showed up the decision by a certain man in black a week ago at The Valley. Chatting to a chap with a clipboard next to me, I discovered this gent was also a referee and was this young lads mentor making notes on his performance. When was the last time you went to a game and got such an in depth discussion on the match officials performance? I didn't dare admit to this chap what I've told some of those officials to go and do in the past.

So I left The New Defence having seen a team perform when they really needed to, hard graft that paid dividends, wasn't always pretty but was exactly what the boss demanded. It may well be a long hard season for the team but nobody could ask any more from them; and they can proudly tell their colleagues the same on Monday when they return to their day jobs. Whilst they're doing that hopefully Chris Powell is putting his strikers on a regime of shooting practice.