Euphoria to Despair

Forty eight hours of happiness, then it's back to the gloom. A cup victory followed by an encouraging fifth round  draw has soon been forgotten as league form and club politics have once again hit the headlines.

Last night's trip to fellow relegation threatened Doncaster Rovers proved to be more of a washout than the first meeting of the clubs at The Valley late last year. This time however Doncaster's three goals all counted and it wasn't a sign for the referee to bring proceedings to a premature halt.

An uninspired performance, after the first goal Charlton rolled over and conceded defeat and now, nearly twenty four hours later you get the feeling the club have done the same off the pitch as well as on it.

At the final whistle Yann Kermorgant waved and clapped the visiting supporters with more than a hint of finality about it, today it seems certain a reported half million deal has been agreed with AFC Bournemouth. The Frenchman is certainly knocking on, he isn't a twenty goal a season forward and on the face of it it's not a wholly bad piece of business; if we had strength to replace him. These kind of deals could cost a lot more than five hundred thousand in the long run; what price can you put on relegation? The other interesting fact is that it appears this is the doing of  Roland Duchâtelet and not the wishes of the player or even Chris Powell who appears to have been told of the news as Kermorgant boarded the coast bound train.

How much influence does our new owner have with player selection? It now seems he decides who goes as well as who arrives. Anıl Koç is a young player who has arrived this week from Standard Liege, Duchâtelet's flagship team. A youngster, Powell admits his six months here will be spent in the under 21's; useful to our relegation avoidance plan then. Today we signed on a three and a half year deal Loïc Négo, a full back from Hungarian side Újpest; another European member of Duchâtelet's footballing empire. No matter how good this lad may be, the circumstances surrounding his arrival could possibly tarnish his time here.

Simeon Jackson's name has been banded around with the usual carefree January transfer rumours but I'm expecting a more likely announcement to be that of Reza Ghoochannejhad joining the club. Also a striker but this lad has the advantage of his registration being held by a certain Standard Liege. Remember how we all pointed our fingers at Watford as they became the Udinese reserve team?

We are also aware of Dale Stephens probable departure, Brighton seem very keen and there are suggestions Michael Morrison could also be attracting serious admirers; Celtic are known to have been watching him. Roland has probably already got a replacement or two lined up and will inform Chris Powell just as their plane is touching down on our green and pleasant land.

When Duchâtelet first arrived it is known that Powell put new contracts very high up the agenda,  followed closely by a playable pitch. The first point seems to have been somewhat overlooked, the second addressed too late to save the Barnsley game and fortunately for us we've just had to host the one cup match since. 

You just have to wonder how long the gaffer will sit there and take it. On the other hand, you have to wonder after last night's debacle how long a Belgian football club owner famed for his turn over of managers will also sit there and take it. Either way we have to brace ourselves, I foresee darker days lay ahead.

You only sing when you're ploughing.

Is there a true, honest to God, football fan that truthfully begrudges losing to a better team? At QPR last Saturday the home teams quality shone though even though they had a (relatively) off day and yet they still picked up the three points. We battled, gave it our all, but still left with nothing to show for our endeavors. Were we bitter? Of course not, we had our pride intact and lost to a team whose salary reflected their ability. So seven days later that pride and belief, which had already been showcased in a tip-top performance against Doncaster on Tuesday, would again come to the fore and we would rejoice in a much needed second successive home win.

Trouble is, it didn't really go according to plan. Nobody could question Chris Powell in fielding the same eleven that ripped Doncaster to shreds midweek, and perhaps you could even argue that lady luck didn't really shine her torch on us today, but nothing hides the fact that for the first five minutes this afternoon we were still mentally in the dressing room.

Even before Ipswich got their goal Ben Alnwick was called into producing two good stops. I even said to those around me that it was probably good for the keeper to be called into duty early before he possibly had the chance to be a touch complacent.

It was to be the only goal, but my gripe is at the fact that Ipswich were never really in the game after that. We certainly didn't lose to the better team, maybe just the braver one.

Our ball into the final third of the pitch was always delayed, players looking for the safe option rather than taking a more direct approach. I can't quite remember seeing quite so much head tennis in the middle of the park, never resulting in Charlton gaining any ground. There was even occasion in the second half when we broke away with seemingly menace only for this attack to result in a sideways pass between our two centre halves less than twenty seconds later!

Ipswich had done their homework well, Jordan Cousins, for example, when receiving the ball on the edge of the box always had two blue shirts on him before he had a chance to swing his leg. The two visiting centre backs kept Church in their pockets whilst dishing Yann Kermorgant a rather tough lesson under the watchful eye of a (rare these days) card shy referee.

Charlton wasted move after move, it was only Rhoys Wiggins that nearly came close at the end of the first half when the keeper struggled to deal with a shot at his near post and nearly claimed an own goal. Danny Green looked lively replacing Jackson, he reminded me a little of Scott Wagstaff last season who needed to shine when the chance came his way. Pigott replaced Church with no real effect, I do wonder why this young lad is not on loan to gain experience and is instead ahead of Michael Smith in our front line pecking order. There was even another cameo for Marvin Sodall although for what good is anybody's guess.

Conceivably one of our clearest opportunities came near the death as Cameron Stewart received the ball via a diagonal cross from Cousins after Kermorgant was cynically hacked down in the centre circle. With only the keeper to beat the referee blew the whistle for the foul on Kermorgant bringing play back to the centre of the pitch. An unbelievably late call, what part of the word advantage he doesn't understand is beyond reason, if I believed that match fixing still occurred these days I'd suspect Ipswich of sweetening this ref with a box of organic home grown root vegetables prior to kick off.

The resulting free kick obviously failed to recreate any chance we may have had and only succeeded in infuriating an already tense situation into a complete free for all. As the players all 'bundled in' the referee should have stepped back and admitted to himself that the blame for these fisticuffs lay solely at his feet.

After the game in West London I predicted we would destroy Doncaster before returning to 'normal service' today. Unfortunately I was proved right, we were over ninety minutes perhaps the slightly better of the two sides yet we never looked like we wanted to be, or more appropriately, believed we should be.

I shall however finish on a positive. Ben Alnwick has been superb for these past two matches. I sincerely hope Ben Hamer has to fight for his place in the team upon his return. If he walks straight back in it will be a travesty, although Hamer is a country boy himself so perhaps he may try the fresh vegetable trick with the gaffer.

If at first you don't succeed......

Bitter rivalries are usually formed through location, although occasionally a heated cup tie or some such event can sow the seeds of animosity. Has a football team ever been hated due to the weather though? Until this season it is unlikely, but biblical downpours and the ability to cope with such dampness have infuriated the supporters of Doncaster Rovers, so that now my Charlton pin badge is about as welcome in that part of South Yorkshire as an Ian Watkins guest appearance at your local school concert.

I'd have a lot more sympathy for the Rovers supporters if their team had turned up last night, although for some reason this fixture was seemingly cursed as a signal fire at London Bridge caused havoc with the transport infrastructure in and out of South East London; in hindsight it's quite fortunate anybody attended at all.

Heading north out of Redhill I was informed of the impending gloom thanks to the very apologetic train driver. My choices were to alight at East Croydon and return from where I had come or show some initiative and battle on with a new resourcefulness and complete my journey to SE7. I chose the latter.

A train to Victoria, the Victoria line to Green Park and then the Jubilee line to North Greenwich and, hey presto, I landed with my feathers none too ruffled. The bus stops here though were heaving with far too many people and I decided a half hour walk was by far the quickest way to complete the final leg, also giving me opportunity to visit the newly opened Pilot Inn for liquid refreshment. It proved a good call as the beer was delicious and I stumbled across a friend, also diverted from his usual route, which made the final walk far quicker and more sociable.

And so I reached The Valley in good time for kick off, quietly smiling to myself that I had defied logic and raced across a standstill rush hour London. Local authorities, police, the railway companies and just about everyone else must be praying one of these sides is relegated in May so we don't have a repeat performance next season.

I was feeling incredibly confident about the game, lightening not striking twice and all that. Doncaster were only going to score three at The Valley the once, we had shown great spirit at Loftus Road on Saturday and if we took that into this game a severe thrashing could be on the cards. Believe me, it's not often I feel quite so confident. Thankfully this was not misplaced.

Charlton were superb last night, their best performances at home always seem to come under the floodlights of an evening game. Even a pre match injury to Ben Hamer didn't detract from our superiority as Ben Alnwick came in for his league debut and did everything right. Yes Doncaster were poor, possibly the worst I've seen in SE7 for some time, but the rookie keeper pulled off a couple of fine stops and kept that all important clean sheet.

Simon Church up front was fantastic. His commitment is second to none, he missed chance after chance but was rewarded with a goal after an hour which he took round the keeper and slotted home very professionally. Quite how he later managed to stand on the ball then fall off it before landing face first in the dirt is quite a mystery though! I took a long time accepting the lad, strange as how Steve Jones is one of my all time favourite Addicks and he too ran all day after everything with very few goals in return. Church had the Donny centre backs worried from the off though and they looked in awe of him whenever he came close by. He's growing in my (highly influential) esteem week by week.

Dale Stephens is a true Jekyll and Hyde footballer, you never know which one is going to turn up, fortunately last night it was the talented player that can read the game, execute the decisive pass and score goals of sheer memorizing genius. Yesterday we were treated to the whole package, a goal that made Charlie Austin's screamer on Saturday look like a poacher's tap in. Helped with the youngsters Stewart and Cousins being both on song and a handful for the disorientated opposition, and Jackson putting in a true captain's shift, our midfield last night looked as good as any I'd seen in this division. Don't panic though, we still had time to throw in a few meaningless sideways passes to keep the purists happy.

Yann Kermorgant got his first full ninety minutes in for a while, and with it a superb chance to steal a goal. Somehow he managed to curl a distance effort in front of an open goal further towards the corner flag than the target. With two goals, two efforts off the woodwork and plenty of other near misses we were fortunate that we didn't depend on our talisman striker doing anymore than improving his match fitness.

So surely there can't be any gripes at all can there? Well, I'm still not convinced with Wilson at full back and there's always Marvin Sordell. He came on for twenty minutes in place of Church and immediately looked more knackered than the enthusiastic front man he replaced. Dragging his heels like he does can't be doing his boots any good at all. Other than that I was full of smiles and more than ready for an attempt to get home.

It must have been the first time I've left the ground and not seen an away fan. The couple of hundred Rovers fans that had made it surely came by coach, those that caught the train must have been fuming when they could get no further prior to kick off.

The trains were now running of sorts, I got to London Bridge as quickly as I would have normally and there was a connection to East Croydon within minutes. My luck stopped here. It took me another hour to reach Redhill and this is still six miles from home. Refusing to wait at least another half hour I resorted to a taxi which I shared with another chap still trying to get home after his days work. He asked me where I'd been; I told him all about Dale Stephens wonder goal.

Needless to say my smile was much larger than his.

Cats and dogs.

Some football matches will remain with us for years and years to come, big wins, spirited comebacks and haunting defeats. A game that never was though, that will be etched permanently in our heads even if the record books refuse to acknowledge it, a story that will pass down through families for generations, told by future grandparents that currently still go to school.

An abysmal pitch matched by equally atrocious defending saw Doncaster Rovers three goals up after twenty three minutes. A surface that refused to allow the ball to roll saw football of comical proportions, unfortunately all at our expense. Indeed, their were two teams out there but the north end of the pitch, which we were defending certainly seemed the more waterlogged. When the third goal went in we couldn't take any more, the game had the makings of a record breaking home defeat and we headed for an extremely premature half time beer. Five minutes later we were joined by the masses as the referee suspended proceedings. Tucked away in the upper North concourse we watched events unfold on the TV screen although without subtitles it was anyone's guess what was happening. I'm not sure anybody in the ground had any clearer an idea than us either.

The obvious decision would be to abandon the match, and if the scores had been level I've no doubt the referee would have done that immediately. With the visitors three goals up I had a niggling feeling he'd bottle it. I agree, in the olden days they played in mud baths, and pulling their socks up they dug in and got on with it. In the modern era of health and safety, not to mention the modern game based primarily on a fluid passing initiative, this match needed to end. It was farcical. We had threatened at times, their keeper had produced three good saves, but we were guaranteed to come out of this as villains and deplorable 'bad sports'.

Conversation on the concourse seemed to focus on the away support. Charlton seems an easy place to come these days, many away fans say it's one of their favourite grounds to visit. Probably because they're made to feel so welcome. We give them the stand with the best acoustics and relative comfort. There is absolutely nothing hostile to worry a visiting supporter, not even a drop of rain. Take the roof off, that will quieten them down, or better still give us the Jimmy Seed stand where we can sing our hearts out (remember how loud Palace were last season) and give the away fans a couple of blocks of the lower West. The upper class above them could even hurl prawns down on the unsuspecting travelers from their sandwiches.

After much forking, sweeping and rolling from both the ground staff and desperate Rovers players, the pitch remained unplayable. The officials duly lived up to my initial fears and brought the teams back out. Simon Church pulled a goal back whilst Paul Keegan made two rash challenges within eight minutes to get his marching orders. Momentum was definitely with us, attacking the goal in front of the North stand would certainly have given us opportunity to claw back the deficit in the second half, which by my calculations would have finished around six o'clock!

Fortunately though the half time whistle became the final curtain and the match was finally abandoned. perhaps the ref thought it fairer now that we had the impetus. We cheered, Donny mourned, we would do this again one Tuesday evening and starting on level terms. We were lucky, pray the defence train and work a little harder before the re-match!

I remember years ago arriving at The Valley for a West Ham match by motorcycle, absolutely drenched as it rained cats and dogs for the entire journey, only to get straight back on the bike as the game was called off a half hour before kick off. That should have happened yesterday, we would stand in a better light, even the awful Football League Show on the BBC portrayed us, perhaps unintentionally, as swindlers and sharks. The one true rapscallion got away without blame. He sent the rain, not us.

From our encounters with a group of easily agitated Donny supporters both at Charlton station then again on arrival at London Bridge, I think it's fair to say they weren't best pleased with the situation. We may well have overtaken Rotherham as the most despised team in Doncaster. Twitter as usual has lived up to it's very low standards and confirmed this.

Today has been much kinder, after an early morning downpour the weather remained sunny and dry for a pleasant scooter ride to Brighton as Mods up and down the land converged on the seaside resort for some Bank Holiday fun. Sitting on the pier enjoying an ice cream it was hard to imagine the two days were from the same weekend. It's one I won't forget.