Multiple Endings

Books, films, video games (I'm reliably informed about the latter) can all sometimes finish with multiple or alternative endings. That can also be said of football. Yesterday as Charlton spent a stress free final end of season day out in Blackpool others around the country were playing out these jittery scenarios.

Birmingham City, Doncaster Rovers, Brighton and Reading all saw their fortunes change in the final seconds of the season but prior to this plenty of others knew their fate was still ninety minutes away from being definitive. Whether that be safety relegation or progression as we shall shortly see.

An early kick off in Blackpool meant I was still at work during the first half and on my scooter travelling to a non league game during the second. It was only once I'd parked up at Gander Green Lane that I discovered we had won on the final day with a Callum Harriott hat-trick. I would never had envisaged a result at Bloomfield Road had our own survival depended on it, hence the Watford match being so crucial, yet retrospectively that game and it's reward of safety gave us the excuse to enjoy the football and push on to an upbeat ending. For once the Charlton nails were spared.

The biggest issue of the season on the playing field, that of goalscoring, is what eventually gave us the ending we desired. For a team that rotated front men like a carousel, Riga finally hit the jackpot with moments to spare as Sordell found the form his reputation had promised whilst Harriott must have found Billy's Boots when rummaging in his grandparents loft. After two sensational goals on Tuesday he once again showed composure to convert all three yesterday with similar nonchalance.

None of us can be sure of what the summer holds, whether the much needed contracts will be offered, whether José Riga will still be in charge of the first team or the youths, or even at a different European post of the empire altogether. Who knows which players Roland Duchâtelet will entice to the club, will they be locally (empire) sourced or from pastures new? Will he send Simon Church off to Ujpest on loan seducing them with tales of his internationally acclaimed striker? We know we've got Championship football, we know we can't endure another campaign like we just have as the standard gets higher every season, and we know we have to put our trust in what is still very much the unknown.

All that aside, we had a much better end to the season than any of us could have envisaged. Players and supporters can take a well earned break, regroup and bounce back stronger. It's the same for Horley Town.

Their final game of the season was in Cobham against Mole Valley SCR. Survival in the Combined Counties Premier Division had been hanging by a thread, yet a final turn around in fortunes had seen them discover the same winning formula as Charlton. With three below them, 18th hosted 19th knowing that a draw would see both sides safe. A boring 0-0 may have been the order of the day in other parts of the world where an ungentlemanly agreement is commonplace before the kick off (I'm not pessimistic bout the forthcoming World Cup honest), but at level nine of the football pyramid it's very much 'kill or be killed'. As keen as I was to attend, it's true to say I had brought the club nothing but bad luck all season and chose to sit this one out. It was a great decision.

The club that finished below them, Ash United, can have no qualms about the integrity shown by both sides, they fought out an incredible 4-4 draw! Even the most imaginative of writers could never have stumbled across that particular outcome to wrap up the season, no matter how many alternative endings he gave you to choose from. I know first hand how many troubles Horley have had this season on the playing front and it's of great testament to Anthony Jupp and Chris Weller who jointly stepped up to the caretaker manager post for the second half of the season. So although it took to almost the final ball, Horley Town can enjoy their summer knowing they, like Charlton, have quietened the doubters and will fight at the same weight again come August. So will Sutton United.

It was Sutton United that I chose to watch yesterday. Having finished runners up in the Conference South, they entered the playoffs with Bromley, Ebbsfleet and Dover Athletic. Sutton had drawn the first leg at Dover 1-1 on Wednesday evening, they began yesterday's home leg hoping for the ending where their season was going to continue for yet another week.

Dressed in an entirely bright pink kit and with a large vocal travelling support, Dover couldn't have had a worse start. Three minutes in they were down to ten men after a cynical challenge on the edge of their penalty area saw their captain return to the dressing room. Dover were never going to be a walkover no matter how many players they had on the pitch but in the Spring sunshine that decision could have proved vital as tiredness crept in late on. Depending of course on what ending you were reading.

They could, and perhaps should, have been down to nine when their dread-locked midfielder Ricky Modeste slid in late taking an unfortunate Sutton full back almost into next week. It was an awful challenge, the player I felt more than lucky to remain on the pitch (the Sutton player certainly couldn't continue) yet it was still to prove to be a pivotal moment of the match. Modeste struck twice in twenty second half minutes to destroy any Sutton promotion hopes when many would argue he shouldn't have even been on the field. A third was added minutes later to compound Sutton's woes but in all honesty, whether the Dover number seven was on the pitch or not, Dover certainly deserved their victory as they defended superbly. It was a Mourinho masterclass from Kent. Sutton United froze on the day, it would be unfair to say it undid their hard work of the season as manager Paul Doswell has got the very best out of his squad this season, but ultimately it will be how many will remember it. Play off defeats are without doubt the hardest of ways to finish a season, this wasn't a parade that was merely rained on, it was washed out to sea.

So all three of my clubs will continue in August where they left off in May. If I'd been in Blackpool or Cobham yesterday I'd have jumped into the Summer break with a loud splash. As it was I was in Sutton feeling far more gloomy than the weather; yet all three clubs are in the same boat, albeit different ponds. But that's football isn't it, ultimately you can't choose the ending.

@Cally_messi

I presume our young midfielder was being a tad tongue-in-cheek when choosing a suitable twitter name for himself. Perhaps on the other hand his spelling really is atrocious, a careless 'I' where a 'Y' should sit (a consequence of too many Barcelona appearances on our televisions). He was don't forget a teenager still only two months ago, although I'm afraid I cannot quote his mother here as to the tidiness of his bedroom. If as I suspect it is merely a jest, a wishful comparison with one of the best footballers of a generation, young Callum certainly tried to live up to the name last night. The real Messi might just have give Harriott a pat on the back and an appreciative smile too.

This was a chance to seal our own survival, a game in hand and opportunity to mathematically savor Saturday's trip to Blackpool as little more than an enjoyable day out at the seaside. But it would take much more effort and much more concentration than they showed against Blackburn. Watford have already proved they are no walkovers and frustratingly they had nothing but pride to play for, no pressure and freedom to just enjoy their football. Lucky old them, back on planet Charlton my nerves were in tatters all day.

José Riga's starting eleven for the match saw a welcomed return for Lawrie Wilson playing in front of Solly whilst once again there wasn't a Duchâtelet signing included. If Riga was going to complete the job on the day he was going to do it with Powell's team. Cally Messi retained his place even after a shocker against Blackburn three days earlier. Now I'd have probably dropped him, as proud as I am of youth academy players starring in the first team I've been more than critical of Harriott (and others) of late. It's been said on numerous occasions before that my working knowledge of football team selection is atrocious and once again you've all been proved right. Harriott was tremendous last night working hard and scoring two goals his Argentinian namesake would have been proud of. For the first he collected the ball just outside the centre circle, had two defenders stand off him as he ran goal-wards and unleashed his shot from the edge of the area past the reach of the keeper to put the Addcks in front. His second and the teams third was a venomous volley on the end of a perfect Wilson cross. In between these skipper Johnnie Jackson had also found the net to regain Charlton's lead after Watford had equalized on the hour. A cross from another young starlet Morgan Fox found Jackson who looked more likely to fall over than score but he held his footing long enough to beat a defender and the keeper which resulted in another typical celebration where he looks like he may just explode.

It was a good night for goals, the solitary Watford score a stunning strike from the edge of the box after some delightful ball control, the final shot almost bursting the roof of the net. Unfortunately such skill was overshadowed by some of their other attributes. Watford were definitely a physically strong team but too often that advantage was used unlawfully as they started to get flustered. There was little surprise when the full back received his marching orders after a second booking although his protests and almost a refusal to leave the pitch will have done his case further harm. It certainly didn't seem to dampen the spirits of Watford's young 'ultras' who relentlessly sung for the whole ninety minutes and then all the way back to the centre of London on the train home. Full of enthusiasm, there must have been bin bags full of empty Red Bull tins left outside The Valley this morning for the dustmen.

The only other downside of the evening (excluding once again the obligatory substandard match officiating) was the activity in the East Stand during the first half. A reported heart attack, we plainly saw chest pumping, I can only echo everybody else and say my prayers are with the individual and his family right now as we wait for the club to announce an update in due course.

I've no doubt there was the usual last home game lap of honour, I didn't hang around as the idea of such a ceremony seemed almost hypocritical although I have seen the You Tube videos of both Riga and Jackson addressing the crowd. I was far to keen to celebrate in my own fashion, with a pint in my hand.

No matter what your thoughts on the Belgian ownership and all that it entails you cannot deny Riga has done his job well. He knew which games he could gain points in and which he couldn't during a far too hectic season run in. The Barnsley game was probably the only real hiccup in his plan and he certainly got the best out of a poor Championship squad. I'm just thrilled he did it in the main with Chris Powell's team although it again highlights the owners shortcomings; obviously different rules if one of your own disrespect an order.

Many of the team waved a Valley farewell last night, the squad will look entirely different come August for sure whether that be for the good or not but for once I'm not going to dwell on such gloomy scenarios. As I tweeted last night, Charlton had put me through nine months of pain and misery and then went and kissed me like I'd never been kissed before. I was jubilant to the point of ecstasy, it almost seemed like it was my Charlton again. I cheered, I sang, not in acceptance of any new regime but because my club had once again given me a reason, the players, the supporters (who certainly deserve credit for their performance). 

Just for an evening I didn't want to give Roland a second thought, merely to toast a good victory and our Championship survival. And it felt refreshingly good!

Clean Sheet

We've now played ten (recorded) league games and we've finally kept a clean sheet, even young children go ten whole nights in bed and have a better record. On a similar vein we've only scored once in the last four matches, six hours of football. Six hours of school disco's and the spottiest kid is again going to wallop that record and score more often.

We were uplifted, on a high, after Tuesday's spirited performance. We wanted more of the same please, perhaps one better and a victory. We had beaten this lot twice last season, why not again today? The trouble is, that the chemistry, the emanation radiated from a floodlit crowd doesn't travel well, it loses something come Saturday no matter how much we try to revive it.

Chris Powell, unsurprisingly, started with the same eleven in, again,  the same formation. Blackpool lined up with the game changing, the very confident on the ball, the gaffers son, Tom Ince and a certain former Charlton favourite Ricardo Fuller amongst their very large and physical side. There was no doubt our youngsters would be muscled out of many of the challenges during the course of the afternoon.

At this point I'd like to just remind you all of my love for a sash on a football shirt. Blackpool wore a white top with a tangerine sash front and back. It could have so easily been the best shirt I'd seen adorn The Valley pitch if it wasn't for that awful blue Wonga logo emblazoned across the front of it. Fair play to Errea though for producing such a fine effort. We, mean time, shall stick with our N**e templates.

Jordan Cousins had signed a three year deal on Friday (and how the club milked such breaking news), he looked very lively in his effort to repay the club for their generosity. He was orchestral in many of our early moves as we did start the game where we left off the last. The crowd played their part and tried to turn the place into a cauldron of noise, we were never going to be out-sung by the eight hundred Seasiders enjoying their trip to the capital.

Our build up play was good, Wiggins and Gower particularly shone for me, but we seemed to fall away in the final third of the pitch. Sordell and Church had very little idea of what the other was doing, Harriott just behind them was ineffectual and bullied out of the game. What worked on Tuesday fell down a little today.

Don't think I'm not happy with the point, despite a couple of shaky moments we did still play well and held our own without doubt. We could though have carried on playing until Sunday and still not looked like taking the win. Cousins came closest, a stunning drive of a shot which I thought had hit the base of the post but apparently was turned around by the keeper. It was certainly closer than any of our strikers came.

Simon Church ran all over the park yet again, nobody could dare question his commitment, but, as I tweeted earlier, only Steve Ovett has run further without finding the net. Goal shy (crap) he may be, but he's our goal shy (crap). Sordell on the other hand......

I'm all for giving the young lads a go, look at Harriott at the end of last season and Cousins at the beginning of this. Why not give Piggott a bigger role? Or better still recall young Michael Smith from AFC Wimbledon. He has an eye for goal, he's proved that everywhere he's been, the only recollection I have of him in a Charlton shirt is coming on as a late sub at Halifax in the FA Cup, and he made a goal then!  But then we've got Sordell, that pretentious Bolton player who, when taken off today as we waited to attack with a free kick and the clock ticking, ambled off ridiculously slowly hoping to milk some applause.

As the game progressed today Blackpool sensed we couldn't finish them off and continued to tease us with long throws and good balls into our box. We stuck firm though as the game fizzled out, once again we were left feeling happy for the point.

An international break follows, and it may serve us well as one or two more influential players possibly could have returned from injury by then. For me it's opportunity to catch another non league match following on from the success of 'non league day' last month.

Charlton, and football as a whole isn't the be all and end all as we so often forget. Today we were reminded of life's bigger and sometimes crueler picture. Paul Raisey, a well known face in the North Stand and the Rose of Denmark, plus being a very regular away day traveler, this week lost his beautiful daughter Charlotte. I had the pleasure of meeting this charming and delightful young lady for her 21st birthday a couple of years ago, she was a true shining light that embossed herself in both mine and Heidi's thoughts. I can only begin to imagine how Paul, Bill and the rest of the family must be feeling. My heart goes out to you all.

God bless my friends.

Charlotte Raisey RIP

Floodlit Forest

I met Jim, my companion for the evening, at The Harp in Charing Cross. A great boozer, albeit small in size, that serves some fine ales amidst it's very affable atmosphere. Jim, who had suffered the trip to Burnley on top of that harrowing display against Millwall, was all in favour of 'settling in' for the evening here as opposed to having to trek to South East London for yet another helping of despondency.

I was having none of this defeatist talk, reminding my good friend of the many great Charlton performances witnessed under the The Valley's floodlights. Yes, if we were to turn this slump around a night game was opportune time to do it. Reluctantly he agreed to accompany me, making it quite clear that this was solely on my head and I would be held accountable to all blame once the nightmare began. Deep down I knew going to the match was a good call.

Forest gave us the biggest footballing lesson of the season during the last campaign and look strong promotion contenders already at this early stage. There was no doubt we'd be up against it, it seemed a little unnecessary therefore for the referee to don a kit similar to Forest's away attire on top of this! As it was, we frequently wondered in the stands why this 'extra player' of theirs shied away from making a tackle.

Callum Harriott got a start playing just behind the front two, Church and Sordell, in a kind of 4-3-3, or more appropriately 4-3-1-2 formation. This should have given us a more attacking edge, indeed we needed that having been not only goal shy but 'attempts' shy in recent weeks. It did leave us very weak out wide though, Forest players finding acres of room in the widest parts of the midway line. At these moments there was a school playground scenario as three red shirts would all dart out together chasing down their man. It was a bold manoeuvre by Chris Powell, nobody could argue he wasn't trying to address our problems.

Jordan Cousins was rewarded for his recent efforts with a full home debut alongside Gower and Stephens, while Richard Wood partnered Morrison in the heart of defence. Lawrie Wilson continued to deputize for the still injured Solly who has Jackson, Cort and Kermorgant as treatment room buddies.

If a bright start against Burnley could be emulated, and perhaps even bettered, we could be in for a special night. Two minutes in and we were behind. Jim gave me that look and reminded me of the comfort we had left in Charing Cross; I started to sing.

We conceded a needless free kick in front of the East Stand, former pie eating champion Andy Reid (I tease out of sadness and selfishness, knowing what a talent we have long lost) stepped up and floated a ball goal-wards. The defence watched, the Forest front men watched, time stood still as Ben Hamer, rather than making a routine save, got his timing wrong and was made to look a little foolish, cue a tirade of anti Hamer tweets clogging up the CAFC hash-tag.

It made a change from disparaging tweets about the owners I suppose. As Jim quite rightly pointed out in regard to Hamer's little faux pas, this particular shortcoming had nothing to do with the board or any money matters, we just really are, in football terms, that embarrassing.

Who didn't expect Forest to then go on and steamroller us? We decided it better they get their goals quick, at three down we could legitimately venture back to the pub, yes it would be better for everyone if this happened sooner rather than later. Night games though, they do something to the crowd that Saturday afternoon's don't quite muster. We made a lot of noise, we kept singing and by Jove I believe the players were starting to respond.

There were still mistakes, Wilson struggled to distribute the ball, Sordell was absent and Church chased everything and got into dangerous positions whilst cleverly disguising any potential threat to appear almost harmless. We were matching them though, making a game of it and it only needed a spark, Dale Stephens came so close just before the break but that wasn't to be it. Our tails were up, a rousing half time team talk would surely tip the balance in our favour.

Four minutes into the second half and the goal came. Marvin Sordell, bugger would I have to eat my words? He was clinical, he's paid to be, and his goal celebration sliding on his knees reeked of pretension, yet the celebration from his team mates emitted nothing less than a desire to go on and claim this scalp. Forest were rattled now and we bombarded them for a good period, oohs and aahs rang around the ground as we came so agonizingly close to doubling our tally, but slowly Forest got themselves back into it.

It ended a draw, it felt like a victory. It was a Charlton performance, the floodlights had worked their spell on the crowd again which in turn had made an impact on the pitch. Positivity and all that, man.

I still have my reservations, Sordell and Church in particular, and I'd rather see Wilson playing further forward, but we saw more than than enough to warrant a couple of celebratory pints of Young's in The Grapes at London Bridge before heading home. All in all I'm very upbeat about doing it again on Saturday against Blackpool, last season don't forget we wanted to play them every week.

Red Saturday

The advertising world has one main mission in its existence, to promote a product so well that either the product itself or it's catchphrase become an everyday phrase or saying. Part of the English language itself if you like.

When it works it drives you up the wall. There is a jingle from distant times past, 'Nice people to do business with' that I hum almost daily all these years later. I've no idea what company's television commercial contained it but it certainly left an impression on me. Mobile phone network Orange have certainly caught themselves a whopper of a catchphrase with their Orange Wednesday. It's not just a catchphrase, it's an event. The Blackpool Gazette must list it as one of their most overused headlines after a midweek Tangerine victory. Therefore I have no remorse in my blatant and shallow robbery. Yesterday was a Red Saturday, the first in SE7 this season.

Leicester, Cardiff and Peterborough had all previously come to The Valley this season and lost, yet not one on a Saturday afternoon. In fact, it was Hartlepool on the final day of last season that were the most recent team to suffer a Saturday defeat in Charlton.

As the game kicked off many may have thought a victory was the last thing on Charlton's agenda. The victory at Bloomfield Road back in October is one of the stand out results of the season so far, Blackpool were, don't forget, play off material last season. With their charismatic manager Ian Holloway now at Crystal Palace fortunes this season have proved to be a lot different, stability under new boss Michael Appleton seemingly essential to get their season back on track. So when news broke in the days preceding the game that the new gaffer had accepted an approach from Blackburn, belief we could do 'the double' over Blackpool rose considerably.

Fielding a 4-5-1 formation, we a looked a little slow in the freezing conditions. Blackpool were sharper with their passing and quicker with their movement, if anything it was ourselves who were there for the taking in the early exchanges. Matt Taylor had returned to the heart of defence due to Cort's injury and Dervite's suspension whilst Scott Wagstaff was enjoying a very rare start after returning from his loan spell at Leyton Orient.

Blackpool couldn't capitalize on their dominance despite an early brush with the woodwork, Hamer was rarely tested throughout, and I was starting to believe a rather demoralizing 0-0 draw was in the making. From somewhere out of  the blue though a chance was carved out as Solly played a through ball into the box. A visiting foot connected and changed the balls course, falling to Johnnie Jackson to roll the ball home from the edge of the area, catching the entire Blackpool defence on the wrong foot.
 
As many supporters were heading for the food kiosks to purchase a much needed warming Bovril, Charlton pounced again. Kermorgant was on the end of a cross, meeting it with a powerful header which the Blackpool keeper could only parry and it fell to Wagstaff who fed on the scraps like an abandoned dog not knowing where its next meal would come from. Speaking to an Orient supporting colleague, young Waggy didn't have the greatest spell at Brisbane Road. His confidence will have sky rocketed after this.

A 2-0 lead at half time certainly took our minds off the Arctic temperatures and gave one of the dreariest forty five minutes of football an almost unbelievable glow. There was a fair bit of stoppage time added on, due mainly to a head injury sustained by Matt Taylor. He played a large percentage of the first half giving a fine impersonation of Stuart Balmer with a white bandage wrapped around his head. Whether this was in fact worn for a medical reason or just seen as a cheeky opportunity to don some needy head wear for the conditions remains to be clarified, but I will say that Taylor wasn't at all afraid to head the ball once back on his feet!

I fully expected Blackpool to throw everything at us during the second half having come so far but alas, moments of note were fewer and farther between than before the interval. It was to be the substitutions that would adhere in the memory.

Chris Powell brought on young Callum Harriott who impressed from the start. The youngster had made some noises for us in League One last season but was one to suffer in the step up last summer. Opportunities hadn't just been limited, they had been non existent this term, so when he started a collection of step overs on an eclectic run into the box to win a corner the Covered End erupted.

My own personal memory will consist mainly of Bradley Pritchard's contribution to the resulting corner. As Harriott ran back towards the half way line to take up a defensive role, the aged and experienced head of Pritchard ran back to take Harriott's position and he sent the young substitute back up into the mix. I fully believe this is the first occasion in Pritchard's Charlton career that he's carried any kind of superiority 'clout'. From where I was sat he looked like he enjoyed it too!

The other substitution of note was the departure of stalwart striker Kevin Phillips. Sections of the upper north stood and applauded as he walked off much to my bemusement. I wondered if it had anything to do with that day in May '98, Phillips being to my knowledge the last remaining man still plying his trade at a professional level. I shouldn't look so deep into the actions of The Valley faithful. It was only in the pub afterwards that I discovered the player replacing him and the recipient of the applause was Nathan Eccleston, the young striker who was on loan here a couple of seasons back.

Eccleston would give Blackpool a moment of hope in the final minute of the match as he struck a peach of a volley from the edge of the area to pull a goal back for the visitors. It was all too little too late. A poor spectacle of a game finished with three important points in the bag, a first league double under our belts and the horror of the FA Cup showing the previous week forgotten about.

This season I'd quite happily take victorious unattractive football with great regularity as we aim to solidify our membership of the Championship. Here's to many more Red Saturday's!

Kiss me quick!

It's been a funny old week, both for me and my football team. I've had a poor performance with results to match whilst Charlton have played superbly with mixed fortunes.

The dreaded misery that is man flu took it's ugly grip on me at the beginning of the week, assigning me to my bed for a couple of days. It would have been longer if my attendance at work hadn't been vital to the cause on Friday.

I therefore not only missed the action at The Valley on Tuesday evening in the flesh, but i also slept through the radio commentary too!
I took from the game that Charlton bossed the majority of the match, despite the 1-2 scoreline, Watford's Italian contingent did a fair impersonation of Tom Daley, and finally, we really need to take our chances at this level.

A trip to free scoring, high flying Blackpool was just what we needed then. In some respects, there was a little less pressure on us to get a result than there was on Tuesday, but two good performances at home still count for something. We would either get the reward these showings have been promising or we'd get a hiding.
I hate to admit it but i was expecting the latter.

Chris Powell decided it was time to shake things up a little, most notably by dropping Bradley Wright-Phillips to the bench and switching to a 4-5-1 formation. New boy Abdul Razak was his replacement coming into the centre of the midfield.

Charlton's solid performance was back and on display in the first half but once again the chances came and went. Fortunately Blackpool were wasteful with theirs too. Ricardo Fuller came the closest when his header came off the underside of the bar. That was the best moment of the first forty five.

The worst moment once again involved a players personal misery. We'll have to find space in an already crowded treatment room back in the capital as Danny Green came off after only around twenty minutes becoming the latest member of the Charlton cripple club.

It was the second period when things really came to life. Only three minutes in and Charlton were in front. Leon Cort once again found the net with his head from a Stephens corner. The Charlton traveling support were, for not the first time, coming through loud and clear on the radio (were there any home fans at the game? It sounded like Craven Cottage), and twitter was already full of tweets urging us to hang on! We really don't have too much faith in holding onto a lead.

We did hang on though, Fuller giving a professional display up front warranting a man of the match accolade. Charlton wrapped it up as Chris Solly scored the second with a sweet right foot drive from around twenty yards out.
As they quite correctly mentioned on the radio, it's a goal that ,with time, will be noted as being further and further out.

The emergence of both 1998 play off final veteran  Kevin Phillips and the very talented Tom Ince off the bench failed to inspire Blackpool to a comeback and Charlton clung on (as we do) to three very welcomed points on the road lifting us to a much more respectable fifteenth in the table as we go into an international break.

After a week of Chris Powell receiving criticism from a certain portion of the Charlton support he's shown that he's quite happy to drop a 'name', quite prepared to try a different approach and quite correct to tell us all to have patience.

I believe he knows what he's doing, i never doubted him for a moment. Honest.

Serial Moaner

Some people just love to complain. I know, i work with one. He is famed throughout the town for both his grumpiness and his incessant moaning. There are times i worry I'm turning into him.
He however moans about matters such as the weather or the customers daily, out of either duty or just plain habit, not because he's really passionate about the subject.

John Robinson moaned and whined because he really cared about the cause. I like to think that's the kind of grumpy old man I'm becoming, a passionate and proud man steadfast in history and tradition. Unfortunately I fear I'm just a moaning old git though.

I had a good old grumble about four weeks ago here regarding the very much devalued FA cup. Since then we've had a new England manager, a UEFA 'showpiece' battle of the champions, the excitement of the play offs, oh, and Kenny Dalglish.

King Kenny failed to deliver the riches the Liverpool owners demanded despite lifting the Carling cup and reaching the final of the FA's tin pot trophy against Chelsea.
The all important league position and the lure of the lucrative holy grail that is the 'the top four' league are all that count in the upper echelon of the domestic game and with some of the worlds richest businessmen.
This day and age success has to come during the first season, and lets face it, even Chris Powell needed six months first to get to grips with what he'd inherited.
It's been said many times before but could you imagine if the managerial merry go round had always been this bloodthirsty?
Manchester United's recent history would have been so different had Sir Alex not been given time. He rescued a relegation threatened team and turned them into a mid table side but they were still a long way off from being champions of Europe.
The Liverpool job is probably the hardest in the domestic game due to the expectation of both the club and the supporters and, if it didn't pay so handsomely, wouldn't be fancied by many.
There will i fear never be another Bob Paisley which in turn means the kop will never be content.

The trophy all these owners want is the Champions League. Nothing is going to put pound notes back into their investment quicker or more effectively than this money spinner. My problem is that it's not a league of champions at all is it, otherwise there would only be one side per nation in it. If you or i deviated from the title so openly trade descriptions would be having kittens.
I kept up my record of not seeing a single game in the competition by avoiding the final, give me grass roots football any day. I can't be sure, and have probably got it wrong, but Liverpool's defeat of Roma on penalties in 1984 could be the last one i actually watched.

I couldn't possibly have missed out on hearing of John Terry's antics last night though. After not playing due to suspension he changed into his kit to celebrate with the players on the pitch and lift the cup.
I've read many amusing things on twitter regarding the Chelsea defender including the possibility of him donning his whites to join in the celebrations if England beat the West Indies at Lords later today.
One thing is for sure, that man will never do anything to enhance his reputation in any positive way.
I wonder what stories we'll have of him from the European Championships?

Unlike Rio Ferdinand, Terry has been included in Roy Hodgson's first England squad. After The Sun (who's favourite candidate remains at a disappointed Spurs) finished their ridiculing of his speech impediment, everyone started on his selection.
The biggest issue for me was the lack of firepower up front. Four forwards, one of whom is suspended for the first two matches, one who couldn't produce enough for King Kenny to keep his job, one an over rated starlet from Sir Alex's latest crop of youngsters, and one who is just plain greedy.
I'd have taken Peter Crouch. He's still doing a job for Stoke and always scores goals for his country.
We all pick our own squads, we all differ on opinions, and i know we've got midfielders who get goals, i just think against stronger opposition should we get through the first stage we''ll leak a goal or two and get caught lacking up front.

I'm glad it's an Englishman at the helm however. Just as it should always be, someone who'll want HIS country to win. It really should be stipulated by FIFA that you can't manage another nation in the same way that you can't play for one. Unless of course your cousin's dog's mother was conceived while flying through their air space.
Imagine if Tesco took over the national side. We'd have a team of Poles wearing the three lions on their shirts.

So to the Championship play off final at Wembley then. Surely, having witnessed one of these matches first hand before, i can't find anything to moan about here. Blackpool fans certainly could with the amount of missed chances they wasted. West Ham should have been dead and buried long before Vaz Te's winner three minutes from time.
Travelling on the tube Saturday afternoon, unaware of the outcome, i saw plenty of travelling supporters decked out in tangerine, not a single smile amongst them. I guessed they had lost but didn't wish to ask in case they thought i was extracting the Michael.
In the Barrowboy and Banker at London Bridge later i saw plenty of West Ham supporters too, none of whom gave the appearance of fans that had seen their side win promotion at Wembley. To give them the benefit of the doubt, perhaps they were as emotionally drained as i was leaving the great stadium in 98. Or perhaps more likely they were far too interested in watching Chelsea on the telly. Sad but true.

On the plus side at least they collected the trophy (by a player who took part in the game) up the steps in a manner far more fitting than a B&Q easy erect podium on the pitch, thus giving fans a chance to drape their scarves around their hero's necks as they climb the steps.

I'd never noticed before how all the npower trophies look the same. West Ham now own an identical, albeit inscribed differently, piece of silverware to ourselves. I'm guessing with three divisions there must be six of these cups, and if they were on a buy one get one free deal npower only had to purchase three. Good business sense, crap creativity. No future tradition or heritage will ever stem from that then!

I fly to Cyprus on Wednesday for a week, we're going on one of these budget airlines. I doubt i'll find anything to moan about there!

If i tell you i'm too hot though...........