Que Sera Sera

Has there ever been occasion before when the only upset from the sixteen cup matches constituting the fourth round of the FA Cup has been the holders getting through?

A week of football that has seen us beat two and discover a third opponent in this prestigious competition, cup fever has certainly hit our part of South East London to a degree not seen for far too long.

I'm a huge fan of the cup, the extra preliminary round, the third round draw, the sunny final in May with hours of build up, I love every moment of it, even if it hasn't always been that kind to us. You could be forgiven for immediately groaning as the last two draws have been made; trips to the two clubs we escaped from League One alongside. Away from home though we currently stand far more chance as round three proved.

After a scary start we pulled Oxford back to a draw in the much delayed first outing of our assault on the trophy, but on Tuesday, on a proper playing surface, we looked far more professional as we ended up strolling into the fourth round and a third visit of the season to Huddersfield.

I've had some great away days in the cup following Charlton, a quarter final defeat at Bolton Wanderers with charging police horses, a dramatic victory against then Premier League Coventry City and more recently a fine day on the ale at Fulham. But as I'm older, married, working on Saturday mornings, boracic and to be honest just a tad lazy, I wasn't going to seek permission, take a day's holiday, borrow some wedge and get off my posterior to see a third defeat of season at the home of The Terriors.

How I wish I had, and i doff my cap to those that did, just to have seen young Harry Lennon appear from the bench to make his debut to the tune of "He's better than John..." Superb.

Before kick off I was bemoaning the departure of Michael Smith to Swindon Town to a friend. Chris Powell had said that the young lad needed week in, week out first team football. I'd have let him have it over Church and Sodall gladly, and of course he scored the first of two debut goals on the half hour and my theories were confirmed. How was I to know Simon Church would cap off a fine Charlton passing move later in the afternoon to seal our spot in the last sixteen?

As games go it was no classic, the talking point being a rash challenge or two from Dale Stephens culminating in a mass brawl which also saw Michael Morrison have his name taken for squaring up. The tackle on Adam Hammill was, on further viewing, dangerous and deserved far stronger action from the official. Comments Hammill said himself in a roundabout way on his twitter account; these were accompanied by a photograph of his knee which had swollen up like a barrage balloon.

To the fifth round draw then and I, like every other Charlton fan, was glued to the television having watched Chelsea stroll past a lackluster Stoke to join us in the last sixteen wishing that rather than a needless interview with Frank Lampard, Adrian Chiles would just hurry up and send us to Wembley to put pay to this uncontrollable excitement.

Citeh got Chelsea, Arsenal got Liverpool, I feared our big fish was going to be Cardiff, no disrespect. Even they came and went dragging Wigan with them. Out came Wednesday next and I knew, just knew that the number four ball was to follow.

It's a very winnable game, a very real chance of making the quarter finals and then we're just ninety minutes from Wembley.  When I watched Whyteleafe in the extra preliminary round the lads there had a tin foil cup, I wonder if they still have it? I'd love to hold that aloft in England's home of football wearing a huge rosette. Daft? Perhaps, but didn't Harry Lennon once sing "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one"?

A load of Belgian waffle.

Football as a sport is built on defining landmark moments. An FA Cup final in the blazing sunshine of May, a Tuesday night trip to Plymouth in the freezing January rain, a hectic Christmas festive football frenzy marking the halfway stage of the season watched by grown men in club colour-matched Santa hats. These different junctures of the campaign all contrive equally to delight us with a hobby and lifestyle we couldn't replicate elsewhere, even if the actual game play so frequently disappoints.

It's a long time since I've managed to complete a whole Christmas fixture list, family commitments (read 'a wife that would never forgive me') taking precedence over a Boxing Day jaunt to SE7. This year, as has become the norm, was spent with family in Tunbridge Wells, Rusthall to be exact. A village to the west of the town immune to mobile phone signals and hosting frustratingly sporadic internet connections. A refreshing break from social media therefore opened out far more traditional Christmas entertainment, but it was a good twenty four hours after the final whistle before I managed to read of Lawrie Wilson's brace and the enthralling team effort to go with it that saw off Brighton & Hove Albion.

If I couldn't attend Boxing Day, there wasn't a cat in Hell's chance I was going to miss The Valley's second festive fixture, this time against a rather large club from Yorkshire. Christmas is renowned for throwing the simplest of travel plans into chaos, never more so than this year with abnormal weather and huge Southern Railway maintenance plans. Every football supporter dreads the words 'rail replacement bus' yet despite their efforts to the contrary, I still arrived at the Richard The First in Greenwich in plenty of time for a few pre match ales.A good job too, I was in danger of sobering up for the first time in four days.

Chris Solly had returned for the Boxing Day fixture, but a heavy pitch had obviously taken it's toll on the full back as he was missing for the visit of Sheffield Wednesday three days later. Rhoys Wiggins was also absent but this due to the birth of his first child. Could the momentum of Brighton be carried over to this mid season relegation heavyweight six-pointer clash with such disruption to the team? Perhaps a far bigger question, could an area of grass that you wouldn't want to walk a dog on host a Championship football match?

During my break from the online world I had missed the news of Belgian businessman Roland Duchâtelet and his intentions to buy the club. As tempting as it would be to immediately have the finest Belgian blonde and wheat beers pumping through the North Upper concourse, the first job after tying down the staff with new contracts for any prospective buyer has to be investment in the playing surface. Quite frankly that pitch is shocking and an embarrassment to the Championship, a statement that could also be used for match officials but more on that later. If it isn't puddles of water stopping a pass reaching it's recipient, it's the mud. Yes, I agree they used to play top flight football in these conditions in 1974 but that was forty years ago. The way the game is played has changed since then, technology has moved on, even if the weather hasn't. I find it very difficult to believe this day and age that professional people keeping a professional football can struggle so much. If the kit man were equally poor with his results would the club happily send the players out in pink shorts after the red in the shirts had run?

So could such a surface host a football match? Just. The first half was dreadful, as dire a forty five minutes as you'll see all season but Dale Stephens would turn on a little style to surprise us all just after the restart. Collecting the ball directly from a Wilson throw on the edge of the box he dropped his shoulder, took it inside the defender then out-witted the oncoming keeper using the outside of his right boot. It was delectable, and as they so often say, a goal that could grace a cup final. The sort of goal Simon Church dreams of. Church, perhaps the 'unluckiest in front of goal' of a long line of Charlton front men spearheaded our campaign to not increase our lead. As we started to sit back on our lead Wednesday started firing shots vaguely goal-wards but mainly towards the corner flags. We felt deep down as we so often do that it was only a matter of time.

The table doesn't lie, these two sides are poor and that is why they find themselves consistently in the bottom six. I never like to slate the officials, it's an easy option but it is becoming harder by the match as referees and their assistants continually both falter with and show little fluidity to many match changing decisions. That said, to some extent you make your own luck in football and if you continually fail to take the chances you create and if you play half your matches in terrible conditions you won't be sitting pretty on top of the pile.

The Sheffield Wednesday equalizer certainly hinted at offside and the more you watch it the clearer it appears to the point where you wonder how anybody could have missed it in the first place, yet it's arrival was ultimately an inevitability. We defended in numbers, so much so that we seemed to get in each others way, our only option going forward was to catch them on the break. The obvious thing to do would be to bring on a centre half come very defensive midfielder and a wide man lacking in competitive practice.

Again Mr Duchâtelet, I beseech you, should you spend your pennies in this corner of London, whilst arranging an annual summer pre-season friendly at Standard Liège, could you invest in resurrecting the reserve team. An occasional Wednesday morning behind closed doors friendly is never going to be enough for the squad's fringe players to find that aggressive edge. Perhaps a short time in the 'stiffs' would also ease the likes of Solly (and all those with recurring injuries) back into the first team for a more prolonged period of time.

A dismal effort from Church at the end again begged the admission that no matter how you dress it up, we struggle to score goals. I've said this before but it seems poignant on the weekend when he found himself reaching double figures, but surely now is good time to give Michael Smith a chance providing it possible to recall him. He certainly knows where the goal is, albeit two divisions below, but regular competitive football is certainly keeping him sharper than the bench warmers above him in the current pecking order.

As much as we like to moan, it is just a matter of perspective. We are unbeaten in three and who wouldn't have taken four points from the two festive home games a week ago? So it is with this vision that I shall bode a farewell to 2013 and welcome the new year full of Belgian hope.

That's if the takeover talks don't collapse on the second of January. Happy New Year!

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

Set in stone

After weeks of unrest and moaning, Charlton forums have been working overtime as the natural instinct and trait of the addick came to the fore, we have finally seen some action.

Boardroom changes may have happened a little earlier than was forecast, stories of bad blood have been rife, all amidst other tales of how the funds the new owners brought to the club have run out.
The Charlton life forum could, at times, have been mistaken for a Glasgow Rangers site.

Today is a happy day though. Things are happening in SE7, and all without breaking the bank.

A young striker, Jordan Cook, has signed for the club. Having been released by Sunderland at the end of last season, the 22 year old has signed a two year deal.
He may have made only three appearances for Sunderland, yet loan spells with both Walsall and Carlisle have brought him to the attention of Chris Powell.

Cook is quite a versatile front man being more than capable performing a selection of attacking roles, at League One level anyway. He is obviously squad strengthening material at the moment albeit a great prospect for the future (don't get too carried away just yet), and coming from the north east Jordan will be great company for Michael Smith both on the training field and off it.

Other news today from the club reports that the large stone club emblem on the outside of the north stand is to come down. Erected eleven years ago it has looked shabby for a while and in some respects mirrored the club of late. As we rise though, so does the badge.
PHB construction, a firm that, apart from being club partners, are responsible for the Sparrows Lane renovation are sponsoring (i presume that means paying for) the work.
Replacing it is an aluminium version of the same size which I'm led to believe will be painted in the club colours. The new club crest will be hanging from the wall in time for new season kicking off.

Good news on a Monday morning then. I fail to see why Bob Geldof struggled with them so.