Watt's with the sofa?

I didn't expect to discover this until Tuesday evening's cup visit from Dagenham & Redbridge, but the Valley is still a goal music free zone, my biggest fear from the summer break hadn't materialised. There are other shockers of course, it's a club that embraces naff, but we still haven't fallen to the standards of certain other South London clubs.

Taking my seat yesterday (far dirtier than it has been on any other opening day fixture) I was impressed with the ease of gaining entry to the ground. I was one of the lucky few that had not only received my season ticket, but had the correct details on it. A quick scan and I was in, no questioning which ticket number it was this week, although my choice of lucky turnstile is no longer an option as the three I can now use are a further ten yards walk and add nearly thirty seconds to my initial toilet dash upon arrival.

I felt for the many in queues around the ticket offices as they risked sunstroke trying to put right a cock-up of gigantic proportions by the club when they had all summer to organise these new tickets. I've printed my cup ticket off at home, perhaps the club should have left it to us to print our own season tickets as well.

The three thousand QPR fans with paper tickets entered the ground without fuss and were among the first to gaze with astonishment upon a settee next to the pitch in the north west corner. With all the class of something the crass Soccer AM could wish to muster, fans can win the opportunity of watching a live game while pretending they're at home. At a time when real supporters campaign for safe standing, we get slouch seating. I can only assume Roland saw it as a money making venture, come May he'll be down the back of it looking for loose change to bank.

The sofa is bad, and the new screen showing the game and replays (minus any contentious decisions of course) is not much better. At this early stage of the season when nine out of ten supporters have no idea who's who on the pitch, the line ups have never been needed so much. Not to mention the lack of the fiiiissshhh desperately avoiding a net. You'll be glad to note however that I rather like the knight mascot. Something good has come out of all these changes then, although unsurprisingly I'm informed this mascot was chosen by the paying customer, not the club. An enthusiastic character, it must have been hot in that get up, especially when escorted off by the cute redhead.

And so to the team. Old Roland has sold the mothership, Standard Liege, to the delight of its clubs supporters. In the short term this means we won't have to endure second rate bench warmers being paraded in our shop window, while in the long run it could mean that we'd become a certain Belgian's number one priority. Finally a real possible fruition from the network. There were plenty of new signings, but these signings were actually ours with only one of the seven being a loan deal. I believe four started yesterday, I'd have been a little more self assured for you if it wasn't for that blinkin' big screen.

Patrick Bauer, the big German centre half started alongside Diarra in a solid looking partnership and the cafc twitter hashtag will boldly proclaim how he had Charlie Austin in his back pocket all afternoon. I believe the number 22 in the middle of the park was Al-Hadji Ba, although I am basing this on the fact that I could only see two letters on his shirt above the number. A quiet game from this lad but I'm sure we'll grow to love him, as we will the big viking up front, Simon Makienok. Looking like an extra from Sons of Anarchy, this giant of a man had an abysmal first half playing alongside Karlan Ahearne-Grant, so much so that I was weeping for the loss of our dear friend George Tucudean from the side, yet the big fellow grew into the game during the second period after an inspired substitution. The shining star however was Ahmed Kashi, an Algerian defensive midfielder. Wearing the number three shirt (thanks again twitter for helping with this conclusion), he mopped up all the loose balls and was as confident passing back as he was building the play back up again. I believe a couple of others made a cameo but, in reality, I failed to notice.

Something nobody failed to notice was Tony Watt's arrival after the break. A dire first half had the sofa family reaching for the remote, yet with the Scot up front we displayed ambition and desire, and it was only a matter of time before he showed Luzon what a mistake he'd made leaving him on the bench. A training ground bust up had been to blame, but this squabbling is detrimental to the club. They will never send each other Christmas cards, and I'm sure the Coventry rumours were pleasing to Luzon, yet Watt epitomizes the passion we once always expected to see in a Charlton shirt years ago.

Special mention must also go to both Nick Pope in goal who showed no nerves in pulling off a string of excellent saves, and Morgan Fox who scored a peach of a goal to seal the victory. Last season there wasn't a bigger critic of the young full back than me, but stepping out of Gomez's shadow he looks far more fearless.

Our record in London derbies has never been as good as it is this season, QPR though have got a lot of work to do if they're going to repeat their last season at this level. What should have been a really stern test became a stroll in the park, even the traditional last five minute nail biting failed to materialize. If I'd been sat on a sofa I could have sat back and properly relaxed.

Press Confidence

Roland Duchâtelet gave his first Charlton Athletic press conference on Thursday afternoon. Katrien Meire, Richard Murray and Chris Powell all sat alongside him, the press room was a little more densely packed than normal whilst, back at home, we got the chance to experience the latest offering from the Charlton Athletic media team, the CAFC Wall.

With so many burning questions and matters of insecurity that urgently needed addressing, it was with rather a bleak sense of hollowness that we noted the owners reluctance to give straight answers, preferring to waffle like a politician aimlessly hinting at the obvious. Then, as quick as it began, the public side of the press conference ended, the new virtual wall stopped updating and it was the press reporters present that got the chance in private to interrogate those in the chair. Surely with all their experience they'd get the answers to the questions we all wanted to ask.

Sure enough the club website published an article later that day stating that the board were in talks with Chris Powell over a new contract. It seems my initial feelings were, as usual, far from the mark and Duchâtelet didn't already have another man in line to lead the club when he originally laid his pound notes on the table. In fact quite the opposite, he rates Powell highly, knows full well about the mans status in SE7, and most importantly respects and admires his ability to perform his job admirably with very limited resources.

All this faith and overdue assurance has a knock on effect from the board, through the management team, through the players to us, the supporters. Finally we have a team, and I include Powell in this, that has conviction for those it plays for. For all the turning points that may have happened during the actual game time yesterday, none were more critical to gaining the three points than this vote of confidence from above. Well played Roland, just next time don't wait so long.

Queen's Park Rangers came to The Valley on the back of a little 'wobble' in their form. If your team sheet shows Yossi Benayoun amongst those named on the bench, truth is a little wobble is a couple of defeats on the spin rather than finding yourself in the bottom three. There is no doubt about it, on paper Harry Redknapp's Rangers team are a league above our own, just look at the wage packets. We also got to witness the Rangers debut of a certain Ravel Morrison, a lovely lad who has hit the front pages with as much regularity as he has the back during his short career. For someone so used to the spotlight, he must have felt yesterday like there was nowhere quite far enough away from The Valley to escape to.

The pitch was, unsurprisingly, it's usual wreckage, a point Redknapp would stress post match, but even what has become known as the shallow end (south end) looked worse than it did a fortnight ago. Nedum Onuoha certainly knew which end was which. The central defender was a little out of both position and ideas as he ran into our box in the deep end, then with a leap of faith flung himself to the ground as he auditioned for the latest of these dreadful celebrity reality shows. Needless to say, neither Vernon Kay or Gabby Logan were there to interview the dripping wet defender in his Speedo's afterwards.

If you've caught up with the BBC's Football League Show, you'll know it was the programme's featured match. They failed to give verdict on whether it was or wasn't a penalty feigning a theory that there may have been some contact from Dervite's leg. It wouldn't be the only time that they would side with Redknapp's men.

Steve Claridge hinted how Rangers would have put the game to bed if they had put their chances away. They only had a couple and Morrison fluffed his lines both times, whereas we, it could be said, had the better of them and perhaps we could have been the team to kill the game off, but that sort of loose tongued tomfoolery obviously doesn't entice viewers. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with fifteen seconds of fame every week, along with about seventy other clubs, and if we can go about our business quietly and unnoticed so much the better. But why then when first Cousins and then Reza Ghoochannejhad with the rebound hit a post each did the monotone panelist not think that a worthy chance had gone begging? I believe the answer lays in uninformed former players judging by league position as opposed to having any working knowledge of the club.

A quiet but steady first half and more than happy to go in level with our heads held high, Rangers certainly hadn't looked particularly special, yet the real drama was still to come. If the visitors weren't able to fire a single shot on target, they had just as little luck when we tried to gift it to them. A backpass (admittedly poor and unwanted) from Dervite to rookie goalkeeper Yohann Thuram-Ulien nearly cemented itself in every future footballing blooper DVD as the keeper played it back out straight to the advancing hooped shirt. As comical yet unbearable as it was, how the Rangers player then ran it out of play was quite remarkable, finally I witnessed the effect of looking a yellow shirted French gift horse in the mouth. I also stood there and listened to our crowd angrily sing Ben Hamer's name, Charlton's number one. I'm not a fan of this loanee keeper by any means, but there's no way I'm going to dent the lads confidence whilst he keeps goal by singing the name of the substitute goalkeeper on the bench. It's a fair shout to him that he was as composed as he was at the end when our old friend Ravel Morrison once again goofed a clear cut goalscoring opportunity.

Looking at it from the North Stand, Morrison had three quarters of the goal open to place the ball and wheel away in jubilation. What we did not see was Thuram-Ulien, or the black panther as I may now call him, spring from nowhere to pluck the ball out of the air and actually catch the thing. The replays don't seem to do it justice, at the time it was far more a superb piece of goalkeeping than the weak effort on goal that television portrays.

The ball then came back up the deep end, we were in our four minutes of stoppage time, I never thought we would score but was just glad to have the point we more than deserved. To actually go on and win the game still seemed far fetched. We had the ascendancy, we even had new loan striker Marcus Tudgay on at this point (less than twenty four hours after coming to South London), yet still I could not see how our pressure would result in the ball finding its way into the back of the visitors net.

A goal mouth scramble followed, the ball came out with a Rangers shirt, merely for Diego Poyet to make a wonderful challenge and the ball to fall to Astrit Ajdarević who struck an astonishing shot which was only just matched by Robert Green turning it around the post. We had a corner which seemed little reward for such a great strike. There can be no argument that of all the new signings made in the January transfer window, Ajdarević is the pick of the crop. Harry Redknapp would go on to say there is no excuse for conceding a corner that late in a game. Perhaps he too thought the Swede's sublime strike deserved more.

The corner proved more than fair reward as it contributed to Johnnie Jackson's winning header from the acutest of angles. Momentarily I didn't even realise it had gone in, presuming it physically impossible; but then the place just erupted. Our skipper ran to the crowd and launched himself over the barrier, there are no words that can describe just how euphoric The Valley became. We sang our hearts out, we collectively stood bigger, bolder and louder than we had all season. Once again we remembered why this club is so much better than any other and quite how much every individual supporter IS Charlton Athletic.

I love non league football, I flirt with it with increased regularity but days like yesterday crop up from time to time and remind me exactly why I couldn't walk out on the club that has shaped me for over thirty years. We have a distraction of the FA Cup tomorrow evening, but I fail to see how that can even begin to compare with the relief of having our Charlton firing on all cylinders and fighting like it means something.

Chris Powell epitomized what it's all about as emotion seemed to get the better of him, and now with the security of belief behind him from the board and the playing staff we ponder once again at just what is possible under his reign.

Standing in a pub with close friends post match that have been on the same ride as you has never tasted so sweet. There's a long way to go of course but there was pleasure in enjoying a few more than expected ales and reassuring each other that the Charlton Athletic we all fell in love with are back!

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.

The best and worst of West London

Queen's Park Rangers are a strange football club. As a child I remember they were one of the best in the land, Stan Bowles, Gerry Francis, and co playing the most attractive of football in the late seventies. Then there was that plastic pitch and the cup final, yet afterwards there has been years of misery, administration and scandals. Recently they've had a return to the elite but again only reached the headlines for less than illustrious achievements.

This has all been done without really upsetting, or more interestingly, hindering anybody else. Outside of West London you'll be hard pressed to find a supporter, and I (wrongly I admit) refer to them as London's forgotten club. That said, good old 'Arry, does his best to keep his mix and match of top flight journeymen footballers (and their accompanying sky high wage bill) on the back pages of your favourite tabloids.

So what is the best bit of West London you may ask, as you know I can't be referring to the view from the away supporters section of the Loftus Road Subbuteo grandstand. Well it's a little traditional boozer tucked right behind Notting Hill tube station.

Many Charlton fans took the disco boat along the Thames as has become almost SE7 tradition when playing in West London, but I believe police made this dock in Westminster Saturday. There were no boats for land loving me, as I took the circle line to the home of Portabello Road market along with many others, all of whom were looking for an antique bargain to take back home. Tucked behind the station though is The Uxbridge Arms, a pub time seems to have forgotten. A perfect pint of Tribute, a warming fire and a archetypal London landlady. A strong woman that certainly wouldn't take any mischief but would happily ply you with beer until either you could drink no more or the last bell was rung.

We left it as late as possible before taking the central line three stops and following the blue and white hoards to the ground where we must have had to walk round three sides of the place before finding entry. This was easier said than done. A bottleneck of supporters were herded through an army of stewards who frisked you once , then twice before finally allowing you past. I offered a third young steward the chance to pat  my pockets but he politely declined, ha ha, not one of them looked under my hat. A tip there for you youngsters keen on your flares etc. I do remember it being strict there in previous visits as back in the 90's I recall then Charlton drummer Mark Garvey being bundled to the floor by the men in hi-viz as he tried to carry his drum in.

If you thought entering was tough, you had no idea what treat was in store for us as we tried to escape!

The game itself had it's moments, Ben Hamer was called upon to make a couple of needy stops from distance and although Rangers superiority was obvious for all to see, they struggled to make a mark on the game.

Charlton played well, were organized and obviously stuck to their plan. It's just a shame the plan seemed to be to hold them to a goalless draw. Simon Church up front did was he does best and ran all afternoon but with little support it became clear we wouldn't score in a month of Sunday's. QPR were calm on the ball, never rushed, and showed real signs of being a top flight side again. Never has Bradley Pritchard looked more out of his depth.

The goal was a delight from Charlie Austin, struck cleanly it looked as good this morning on the small screen as it did at the time. In fact our only chance would have been if Cameron Stewart could produce something similar for us at the other end. At 0-0 our plan wasn't really working, at 0-1 it was defunct and we knew five minutes into the second half that Powell needed a change. It would be Pritchard and Church that came off, Harriott and Kermorgant on. We recognize the big Frenchman needs little convincing to fall to the ground but even on the unintentional occasions yesterday it was obvious little would be given our way; again we were unpopular with the man in the middle.

Joey Barton took remarkably little stick considering who he is, Rob Green, who as was frequently reminded had let his country down, certainly made up for it. Andy Johnson made a cameo appearance and again got his deserved share of flack, whilst the arrival of Shaun Wright-Phillips heralded  chorus after chorus of his brothers anthem, 'he's better than Shaun'. Great stuff. The stand out player for me though was the left back, a lad on loan from Spurs I am told. From where I stood, and granted, with rather failing eyesight, I thought I'd been beamed thirty years back in time and was watching the great George Berry!

Charlton can have no complaints, they did lose to a better side but certainly didn't disgrace themselves in any way. QPR however must wonder why, with stands so close to the pitch and with roofs surely designed to keep the noise in, have a support that hardly made a sound. Is that the worst of West London? It's certainly the same scenario up the road at Fulham.

No, the worst side of West London has to be the access, or lack of it. As I said before, getting in the ground was tough, getting out was a nightmare. The narrowest of concourses meant we all shuffled slowly through (at the times we weren't stationary) under the glare of stewards in a manner I can only assume would resemble prisoners at a concentration camp shuffling towards the 'showers' under the watchful eye of Nazi guard. On finally making it out onto the metal staircase down to the street there was a feeling of escaping and an urge to run in case I was captured and sent back in.

A couple of drinks in Clapham on the way home where my companion Jim found himself innocently caught amidst Chelsea - QPR urinal warfare rounded off another London derby defeat. I was feeling quite upbeat all things considered, then stupidly glanced at the league table. It's a little more concerning than I had realised. I don't believe it's too early to call Tuesday's visit of Doncaster a six pointer is it?

In typical Charlton fashion I think we'll rub salt in the wound midweek and come away victorious, just to burn all our Donny bridges once and for all. That's how football goes isn't it, but then come next Saturday and Ipswich and I'm certain normal service will be resumed.