Defence Let Off The Hook

When you boldly venture from the pub to the ground for your first real game of the season, you have fairly clear objectives in easy order: a win, a clean sheet, some entertainment. We got the entertainment, in a fashion somewhat unexpected, but not the first two priorities. Given that when the game was suspended we were 0-3 down and howling for more rain, but when it was formally called off it was 1-3 at half-time against 10 men, like last Saturday, it could have been better – and it could have been a good deal worse.

Let’s start with the decisions taken by the referee. After the game I think I was more sympathetic than most. He tried all he could to provide an opportunity for the game to be concluded. The fact that at 0-3 he would have had every Doncaster player and staff member shouting in his ear that they had no problems with the conditions, and at the same time everyone with a Charlton association howling for it to be called off (and, like me, offering to pour more buckets of water on the pitch) can’t have been easy. There was no water visible on the surface, but buckets of it just below, which made most passes and tackles difficult to make and predict. The fact that we’d got back into the game, and they had a guy sent off, perhaps made it easier for him, as did the fact that there’s no way another 45 minutes could have been completed. He called it off when there was no realistic prospect of things getting better, every chance of them getting worse, and in addition to a sizeable element of farce danger to the players. So show him some sympathy.

Now to the less savoury aspects of the 45 minutes that we saw. Our defending, individually and collectively. None of the goals they scored could be attributed to the conditions (indeed, they would probably have scored their second sooner had it not been for the conditions). Every ball they played forward looked capable of producing something, especially the set pieces, when they knew what they were going to do and we were guessing. We’ve conceded two against Bournemouth, two against Barnsley, one against Middlesbrough, and three in 45 minutes against Doncaster. I can’t comment on what’s gone before, but today it was rank. If we don’t get this sorted out, and quick, we are in trouble.

The game had barely begun when a throw to them on the right side was delivered to one of their front two, in acres of space. It was on Wiggins’ side, but is it his job to pick up the guy behind him? He crossed, they scored simply. Second goal saw a ball across the box which, fortunately for us, stuck in the area instead of going to their guy to score. Hamer hoofed it away, only for the ball to be played forward again, Morrison to throw his arm up for an offside that never was, and for it to go wide, ball in again and a simply conversion from their big centre-forward. Goal three was a corner played to the back of the box, to a guy with nobody around him, allowing him to put in a forceful header which was parried but rebounded off one of theirs into the net. Unlucky perhaps, but who was picking up the first guy?

Add in the fact that other set pieces saw their guys set up prepared plays and came close to scoring more, with us chasing shadows, and you had what amounted to chaos in defence.

At the other end things were a good deal better. We forced three excellent saves from their keeper and looked capable of scoring, helped by the movement of Church and the perseverance of Kermorgant. With Gower winning his fair share of tackles and Cousins looking accomplished, plus Harriott’s pace, there was every reason to believe that we’d get some on the scoresheet. But if you’re shipping goals at the back it just doesn’t mean that much. Fact is we were 0-3 down when the game was suspended and at that point all we wanted was the clouds to open.

The 18 minutes after the break to complete the first half saw Church convert a loose ball in the box to give us hope, then their guy put in the sort of five minutes that must make any manager despair. You’re well up away from home, look capable of scoring more, so the priority has to be not to let the opposition back in. Instead he clattered into the back of Kermorgant (and then possibly kicked the ball away) to pick up a yellow, then minutes later got involved in a water-induced scrap to get a merited second. Muppet.

The positives today were Church and Cousins. But if we continue to defend in today’s fashion, we’re in trouble. I can’t pinpoint the reason, that’s for Sir Chris and his staff. But forget the idea that the conditions were to blame. Defend like that and you lose. Period.

Those Were Franco's Days

‘The season starts now’ seems to be the mantra. Fine by me, given that I’ve missed all the games in anger to date, having opted to swan around parts of Italy in the sun for the past couple of weeks. So it begins with one point on the board rather than the tally I was hoping for; clearly it could have been worse, but not by much: no clean sheets, injuries, red card, and a decidedly downbeat tone to the updates I was getting from fellow Addicks watching the Middlesbrough game.

It’s a bit incongruous to pass any sort of comment on games I’ve not been around to see (and I only managed last night to catch the Barnsley highlights). But from a distance the disappointing start to the season doesn’t seem to be entirely without possible reason. We spent the pre-season friendlies largely playing with one up front, by default, then bring in two new forwards shortly before the opening game, with little time for all to get acquainted. Add in the disruption to midfield from the Pritchard sending off and the injury to Jackson (and now seemingly Stephens on the sidelines) and it’s not surprising we’re not yet firing on all cylinders. When that happens, the focus surely has to be on ensuring that nothing is given away at the back and for me to date the disappointment has been in conceding four against Bournemouth and Barnsley.

Early days, but no question that there’s pressure on us this Saturday. A failure to beat Doncaster at home would compound concerns about a repeat of our home form for much of last season and, with Leicester and Watford coming up after that, a sticky start could turn into something more serious. (Of course after that it’s the Spanners, a game that my French partner Suzanne will be able to attend; surprised to see last night a certain Nicky Bailey featuring for them, but I guess needs must; will we have time to rewrite the song? Nice to see we’ve been allocated 4,000 tickets for Huddersfield away in the Capital One Cup, may not need more I’d guess – perhaps the club can arrange a special award for anyone who travels twice to Huddersfield for midweek games in the space of a couple of weeks.)

There’s going to be uncertainty about possible further goings and comings before the transfer window shuts, which will be an additional factor working against getting a settled team. In the interim, there’s work to be done by Sir Chris and his staff in getting the team selection for Doncaster right, with questions in all areas (except goalkeeper of course): does Dervitte’s performance at Barnsley merit a rest? What four in midfield might be available (and is Cousins ready for a start)? And will Church stay in ahead of Sordell (that one does seem straightforward for now)? Victory and a clean sheet if you please.

That’s the preamble out of the way. Now for the real reason for the post. Italy was of course a delight (even though most of the Barolo, Barbaresco etc ended up being left in Lyon), not least for the wonderful hospitality of the people we rented the second place from, in Piedmont. Turns out that the father of the woman who manages the renting, Franco Dassereto, played for Sampdoria for over 10 years, probably (if my maths are better than my Italian, which they have to be) through the 60s. I tried to ask him if he played with, or remembered, a certain Eddie Firmani, who left us to join Sampdoria in 1955 (before of course later returning as a player and then manager). But I’m not sure I managed to get the question across, and certainly didn’t understand the answer if there was one.

I’ve tried to check out Franco’s details with a little surfing; he’s listed on a couple of Sampdoria players sites but couldn’t discover more. But I feel I already have a clear picture of his career. When I asked him if he played attack, midfield or defence (more by sign language than anything else) there was a proud glint in his eye when he replied ‘defencione’. Great company and friendly as he undoubtedly is, you could just tell that he’d spent his time happily kicking lumps out of any opponent that had the temerity to approach the Sampdoria box with or without the ball. I don’t know what the Italian is for ‘ah, those were the days’ but like to think that’s what he added after a pause for thought.

Some Foreign Land

When you are away from a screen for most of a day (there are too many distractions on the Eurostar and TGV to get to Lyon, usually in the form of a bottle, to be bothering about staying connected) there’s that keen sense of anticipation when the next morning you check the club site. Is it Church, Fuller, Obika, Sordell – or all of them. And we’re still waiting. So be it. As tomorrow morning we head off to Italy (assuming I manage to squeeze all of my French partner Suzanne’s shoes into the car), to some way up another bloody mountain there are other things on my mind, such as will there be enough room for my spare pair of kacks alongside Suzanne’s kitchen sink and her other essentials. 

 

Travelling inevitably gets more difficult with each passing year, not so much because the bag over the shoulder seems heavier as one matures (it’s remotely possible I’ve matured a little from my teenage years but I certainly haven’t aged) but because the crankier you get the more situations arise to deepen the effect. Last time I took the train to Lyon, I went for an FT and bottle of water at the WH Smith’s shop inside the Eurostar terminal. It had a number of self-service terminals, a couple of cash tills, and two assistants. ‘I prefer to use the tills if you don’t mind’, says I. ‘Oh, we’re not using them today, but I can show you how to use the self-service’. ‘No thanks’. ‘Why not?’ ‘Ask me in six months when you don’t have a job any more’. This time around there was one assistant. ‘We’re not using the tills today because I’m on my own’. Enough said. As before I said no thanks and put the items back. 

 

I don’t think I’m just a Luddite, it’s about two things. First, shedding more jobs at this juncture for the economy isn’t great for the wider picture. Second, where is any incentive to comply with a change which I don’t want? Will I get through the process faster? No. Will my goods be cheaper as a result? Fat bloody chance. I could benefit indirectly if the brain-dead fund manager overseeing my hopelessly inadequate pension scheme has some retailers included, but for the time being at least I’ll take the chance. Simple enough trade-off, I avoid going into WH Smith’s (and will change supermarkets if the pressure to use self-service machines increases). 

 

If I’m cranky this morning it’s Suzanne’s fault. I arrived at Part-Dieu at 19.00 French time last night, replete from the wine, but she needed to work late. So I was obliged to have a second pastis in the bar while waiting to be picked up. And there’s no uplifting news from the club site as yet. 

 

The news that Button has gone and that Smith is deemed surplus to requirements is a little surprising but understandable. Button was given a chance last season and didn’t take it, can’t have been enamoured with the prospect of warming the bench for another season, and had the opportunity to drop down a flight but presumably be first choice. Good luck to him, and to Smith, they both have the time to rebuild. Presumably the club feels that Pope is ready to be called upon and I’d be inclined to agree with Wyn Grant about us always being able to do an emergency loan for another keeper if Hamer is out for a few weeks. I just hope that being the undisputed number one has a positive rather than negative effect on Hamer’s thinking as we certainly can’t afford him to be off song; he acknowledged last season that being dropped gave him a necessary kick up the backside. 

 

Defence sorted (barring any departures), forwards awaited, but if there’s one area that could still use some adjustments it is midfield. Jackson, Gower, Hughes, Pritchard, Green, Harriott, Stephens, Hollands, Dervitte if needed, may not be a clear over-indulgence of personnel, especially if at the moment 4-5-1 is Plan A, B, C, D etc (Pigott may be pressing for a start alongside Kermorgant but if we started a game with both there’s no option for change on the bench); but I still feel that Stephens and Hollands either play or, like Button and Smith, look elsewhere. We are all led to believe that there are little or no funds available, so savings where possible are desirable. 

 

On that front, I have no criticism of the owners if they feel unable/unwilling to invest more in the team. I’m not writing the cheques. But if they do attract criticism they have only themselves to blame. It’s a by-product of their failure to communicate. It’s not enough to simply conclude that we have no money (or worse). We know we are significantly loss-making, so the owners’ decision is what level of losses are acceptable dependent on their ambitions and the confines of the new rules. The last statement of intent was along the lines of ‘we aim to take the club back to the Premiership’. Of course no timetable was, or could be, suggested. But does that goal still stand? If it does, how would it square with taking chances on Championship status by cutting the purse strings? My feeling is that the owners would get significant goodwill and support if they were open and honest about the financial planning and constraints rather than leaving up to supporters to draw inferences from activity (or lack of). But they have chosen to be secretive so cannot complain if these inferences are unfair (note: if shortly after this is published we’ve signed Messi please ignore the above).

 

So for good measure here’s another inference. There have been enough rumours of fresh investment (Turkey, Russia etc) and hints that investment would be welcomed – but an outright sale of the club not. Many moons ago I sold a company of mine to a moron. He planned to do a further deal or two and make a decent return out of his investment. Trouble was, each prospective deal fell flat because he was too greedy, treating the other side as an obviously inferior, stupid, exploitable bunch. The facts that they had made the money and were in a position to do deals, and that for any deal to succeed there needs to be upside for the other party too, didn’t seem to occur to him. I hope our owners do not share similar traits. Also, why opposition to an outright sale? First principle of even A-level Business Studies is that you never consider how much you have invested in a project when deciding whether to continue/change. If it makes sense to go on, fine; if circumstances have changed and a deal means you don’t recoup what you have spent, that’s fine too. 

 

Enough meandering. Suffice to say that when we take the field at Bournemouth there will be a small corner of northern Tuscany that is forever Charlton; when we take on Middlesbrough – and give Mobray the spanking that his silly comments after the last game deserve - that corner will have shifted to Piedmont; and when we are repeating last season’s performance at Barnsley it will be back in Lyon (ahead of the return to Blighty). Just where it will be when we take on Oxford in the Capital One cup has to be a matter of indifference, unless we change the habits of a lifetime and opt for a proper cup run. 

 

I guess the perhaps insensitive recent comments from a certain politician regarding the north-east and fracking might provide an opportunity for a little taunting from the Charlton crowd. Their fans must know that if fracking does take hold it will start in their area – and end eventually around Watford. But you really would think that a sensible politician would take the obvious opportunity to redress any impression that they don’t care about the country outside London and the South-East. I’m all in favour of one or two experimental fracking sites and, to prove that we’re not anti-outside London, the clear choice would be to nominate as the locations a couple of areas actually in London, places with no value, character, social contribution etc. Do I need to spell it out? Selhurst and Bermondsey perhaps? There would after all be nothing to lose and a good deal of potential gain (in the event either that the whole thing works and makes money or these areas disappear in a hole in the ground). Tough to choose between them though. Perhaps best to go with Selhurst as if the part of Bermondsey I’ve in mind was the one there would need to be some resources allocated to potential provisions for the local intelligentsia, to head off the risk that a sudden shortage of plumbers, electricians etc sends the costs of certain essentials in Blackheath through the roof. And the Old Kent Road and its surroundings could be too close for comfort; this isn’t so much Nambyism on my part, more like Nanma (not anywhere near my area).

 

Oh come on, of course these are cheap shots. No complaints please. I’m out of the country and probably incommunicado for a couple of weeks, unless we dip into some internet café. I’ll be back when we’ve nine points on the board and every gripe I’ve ever had has been dealt with.

Addicks Place? Total Disgrace

Sometimes the small things matter, as often they say a lot about the bigger picture. And for me, this ‘small thing’ makes me angry (and disappointed). We were recently invited to ‘cement our place in Charlton’s history and become part of the stadium itself’, by purchasing an inscribed stone in Addicks Place, and more recently to view the first stage of its implementation before the Inverness Caledonian Thistle friendly.

Now when I first saw the offer on the club site there was a note of concern. ‘Excuse me, I purchased a brick some years ago, on pretty much the same basis (to cement my place etc). It’s still there, I check it from time to time.’ My concern was based around how the named bricks in place would be treated (would they even be removed?), but I thought ‘no, give the club the benefit of any doubt, perhaps there will be something on the site about the bricks in place, some reassurance, perhaps some offer to upgrade to the new displays’. I’ve heard nothing.

So I took a look yesterday. The new stones do look good and the area well presented (and believe me I have absolutely no axe to grind with people who’ve paid for their new stones and those who intend to have one in the second phase). But did someone at the club not think for a minute that there are people out there who paid for bricks before, perhaps we can spruce them up a bit, give them a clean etc, to make it all look good. If anyone did nothing happened. Some of the bricks are unreadable; some are covered up by a bloody red carpet stretching outside the main entrance. Basically nobody has given a monkeys about the bricks, and those who paid for them. Why care? There’s no fresh money coming from them. Well I care. My brick has the name of my (deceased) father, a lifelong Addick, and I.

A more sympathetic club might have considered the feelings of those with bricks in place. A simple reassurance at the time of the Addicks Place offer that they will be respected would have been nice (if one was added I’m wrong and apologise but I didn’t see anything and was looking). Why not offer a package for those with bricks who might like to upgrade? ‘Oh, forget them, we’ve got their money’. If those bricks are now felt to be in the wrong (or inconvenient) place, by all means contact those who paid for them (the details must still be lying around somewhere, or a general note on the site to ask these people to get in touch) and offer some alternative. ‘Nah, why bother? It will only cost us time and money to contact people, dig up the bricks and put them somewhere else.’

This may be unfair on the club, perhaps an over-reaction. But it outlines how the club made me feel yesterday, angry and disappointed. Charlton doesn’t do that often to me; I’ll always be an Addick and accept being to some degree exploited because of that, it’s a trade-off for the benefits. But as things stand the club said to me it just doesn’t care – unless I’ve more money to hand over.

Please clean (perhaps even redo the lettering) the bricks that are unreadable and please do not show total indifference to the people who paid for them by covering them up with a carpet. Simple, small things, easily avoided with a little thought. I hope this simple, small thing really doesn’t say something about the club I support.

Plaudits for Powell But Nobody Else

Given our home record for the bulk of last season, it wasn’t exactly uplifting to lose 0-1 in the only pre-season friendly at The Valley. If Paddy Powell had brought his boots, he might have made a difference. As it was, Inverness Caledonian Thistle defended well, were well organised, and over the 90 minutes also had the nearer misses until we pressed in the final part of the game. Good luck to them. There were after all some guys in the pub who’d flown down from Scotland for the game. The only problem with them was that their colours and badge were just a little too close to the Sparrows whose ground we once borrowed.

I hope nobody’s expecting a full match report, this was a friendly. But for the record we put out something close to a current first choice X1: a not surprising 4-5-1 formation comprising Hamer, Solly, Wiggins, Morrison, Dervite, Harriott, Gower, Jackson, Stephens, Pritchard and Kermorgant. The only problem was that according to a Scottish guy ICT, managed by Terry Butcher, know how to defend and are content to sit behind the ball. 4-5-1 puts a premium on midfielders breaking forward to support the lone striker and the wide men getting the better of their full-backs. Neither happened often enough to cause them problems.

In the first half, aside from a couple of Pritchard low crosses-cum-shots, we created one proper chance, albeit a good one. A good ball in and Kermorgant timed his run and leap perfectly. He just didn’t get enough power or direction on the header to beat the keeper. By contrast, ICT hit the outside of the post with a curled shot that gave Hamer no chance at all, and a loose ball in the box should have been converted but the half-hit shot was able to be smothered by Hamer. We dominated possession, but quite frankly the quality of the balls going forward, and most of those into the box, was poor, the midfield was too static and one-paced, and their full-back was shutting Harriott out of the game.

At the break it seemed to be a case of doing things better and faster. That didn’t really happen and with ICT sitting back the game as a spectacle was dying a death. Not surprisingly changes came, with Green replacing Stephens and Pigott coming on for Gower (plus Evina for Wiggins and towards the end Cousins replaced Dervitte), with Pritchard moving inside. But as we were expecting us to increase the pressure they broke the deadlock. An exchange between Pigott and Jackson went wrong and they broke. Although Pigott tracked their guy back he didn’t catch him. The danger seemed to have passed as their guy’s ball out wide was overhit, but it was kept in, squared, and someone running onto it slotted it past Button (who had come on at the break).

The goal made more of a game of it as we pressed forward, with Pigott making things happen, Harriott coming more into the game and looking threatening, and Jackson threatening to get in behind their defence. But everything was just a little off, perhaps encapsulated by a curate’s egg of a performance from Kermorgant. He worked his socks off, but tried a few things that raised the eyebrows and, having won a free kick in a dangerous position by running into their defender’s elbow, proceeded to curl it about a yard off the ground into the wall.

The result doesn’t matter in the greater scheme of things. And the match won’t live long in the memory (defeats seldom do), apart from the much deserved plaudits for Colin Powell. But we are only a week away from the start of the season and the performance should raise some concern, even given the context. We all know we need more strikers brought in, and on today’s evidence a team coming to The Valley with a gameplan built on containment against 4-5-1 will fancy their chances of keeping a clean sheet and getting something at the other end.

Nobody from us took the game by the scruff of the neck. Stephens had the opportunity but ICT just didn’t allow the space in the final third for him to make telling passes, Gower was tidy and efficient but no more, while Jackson and Pritchard both played in poor balls from decent positions. Surprisingly I’m not sure that Wiggins got across the half-way line in the first half and it took us too long to realise that against a team set up for containment a more aggressive and adventurous approach was needed. Allowing them to score first was the real sin – and we saw that happen too often at home last season. It was perhaps indicative that I took along to the game a new toy, a camera, to try out the features. I wanted to wait for a Charlton corner, set-piece, ideally penalty to try out the rapid shots function. I know I didn’t have the opportunity until late in the game.

So no disaster, but a slightly sobering experience. Schoolteacher’s report comment would read ‘need to work harder next week’. ICT are no mugs (they finished fourth in Scotland last season and had supporters of their own to impress) and provided a tough examination; it wasn't Welling as an intro. Today we did not pass it.

'We Got Married In A Fever .....'

Couldn’t make the open day, didn’t go to Portsmouth (or Wimbledon for that matter), and still a week before Inverness Caledonia'n Thistle. Delighted that Evina’s staying with us and glad Wood has signed up (defence sorted, just the forwards and some possible manoeuvring for midfield to go). Also pleased about the Trust’s campaign to get Asset of Community Value status for The Valley (my first thought was as the place is by a distance the holiest place on the planet it surely couldn’t cross anybody’s mind ever to think of changing it, but we know there are the unenlightened out there). But there’s got to be something to write about, other than idly wondering whether I was sent the only season highlights DVD which doesn’t work properly (it might be my equipment).

So, as an eternal optimist and perennial tryer (neither are actually true but they form the intro), I want another futile stab at a new song. My influence here is clearly limited. I sit in the East Stand and we never actually start anything, plus I still bear the mental scars from the failure to get going an adaptation of David Essex’s Rock On for Therry Racon (mention of whom prompted a quick Google; seems he’s without a club having left Millwall, where he did an admirable job – two years of wages pocketed and one league appearance, presumably forced on him). Still feel that would have been a belter (‘Racon ... ooh my soul’).

As my musical interests, with some notable exceptions, start and finish with the Sixties (or residues of that decade, such as the mighty Leonard Cohen), the chances of me coming up with anything contemporary are slim. Stick to what you know. So there I was, playing a bit of Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood as one does, and of course on comes their version of Jackson. It was made famous by Johnny Cash (and June Carter of course), but not written by them. For anyone not acquainted with it, try YouTube and enjoy.

We do have a sort of song for the skipper, but it’s a bit half-hearted and clearly out of date. He no longer runs down the wing for us. And there’s a classic with his name on it (the fact that it’s about a failed marriage – or soon to be failed marriage if you want – can be easily overlooked).

I have no pretentions as a lyricist, but here’s my stab at a first verse:

“He came in from Notts County,
As full-back then got reversed.
We’ve been singing ‘bout Jackson,
Ever since he scored his first.
Oh Johnnie Jackson (Jackson, Jackson),
He don’t mess around.
Yeah Johnnie Jackson (Jackson, Jackson),
Look out, he’ll take you down.”

I don’t have a verse two (and I'm happy to admit it ain’t exactly much of a verse one), but any contributions would be more than welcome.

Hopefully we’ll sign someone from Senegal, Montreal, Donnegal or anywhere else that rhymes with you know where to revive that one. And if Coulibaly joins us and takes the French (including France-associated) contingent still higher, I promise to co-opt my partner Suzanne to come up with something suitable, to the tune of La Marseillaise no doubt. Oh, I’m on a roll now:

“Couilbaly and Evina,
Plus Dervite and Kermorgant .....”

Thoughts On Paddy

The news that the Valley friendly against Inverness Caledonian Thistle has been designated a testimonial for Paddy Powell is entirely welcome, and of course entirely deserved. Does still leave the Killer testimonial to be fitted in at some point in the future (anyone know what happened to his autobiography?), but hopefully that one’s in the back of the mind of someone at the club.

I don’t want to trawl through the stats of Powell’s playing career. The programme and others’ posts will do that well enough, and it’s bloody hot today so any actual effort on my part is a long shot. I’d rather just see what comes to my mind when his name crops up. Not surprisingly, it’s just about all positive, and that’s not rose-tinted glasses. Yes, I remember that there were one or two question marks over his ability and/or inclination to tackle back; yes, there was the dabbling in the US that almost caught us out. But what I really remember is a player we signed from non-league rather older than usual for that type of purchase (after he’d shown what he could do against us) who went on to be instrumental in a delightful period for club on the pitch, when expectations were somewhat muted (we had made it back into the old Second Division), we couldn’t defend, but we scored goals seemingly at will.

In those days we were delighted with a few matches a season featuring on Sunday’s The Big Match, so understandably two memories of Paddy on the pitch were from games with recorded highlights. To feature on TV was good enough, but for us to win ‘goal of the season’ was something else. Powell helping out in defence then haring up the pitch for a return after a bit of playing around by Warman; quick feint either way from the left side and in goes the cross for Hales to meet it on the volley and smash it into the net. That saw off Hull on the day. My second TV memory wasn’t a win (somehow we were edged out 2-1 at Palace) but was surely Powell’s finest goal for us. Speaking about the game the next day, Palace’s manager Malcolm Allison said he’d told his defenders to push Powell inside as he had no left foot. Well, he was pushed inside and hit a beauty from well outside the box into the far corner of the net.

Other games tend to get merged or details are a bit blurred, but I remember one press report extolling Charlton’s attacking prowess as we played with three wingers: Flanagan and Powell, plus Peacock going wide from central midfield. Add in Killer and King Arthur Horsfield to actually score most of them, then Flash moving inside after Horsfield left, and you have the 6-0 against Swansea followed by 6-1 against Notts County, plus Hales’ 28-goal season. I do remember the final game of that season, at home to Bolton; we lost 5-0 not least because every time we went forward someone tried to give it to Hales to get to 30 and scoop the £10,000 (I think) while the defence, as usual, leaked. I don’t remember if Paddy took the corners, but my favourite used to be one to the far post for the head of ‘Big Dave’ Shipperley, for him to nod it back and Hales to score. Seemed to happen all the time (and still does in my head).

When we list ‘Charlton legends’, Powell’s name doesn’t usually make the top batch. He didn’t (often) bang them in himself, he didn’t (to the best of my knowledge) have a fight on the pitch, he didn’t go on to greater glories at other clubs, and doesn’t top the lists for appearances. But if there’s a second group of heroes he’s right up there in that one. He made so many, most obviously for Hales, and was a vital component in the success of him and others. He provided an Addick (and of course many other ones) with a massive amount of pleasure.

Of course Powell’s years at the club since hanging up the boots would themselves merit a testimonial for him. I’m sure I used to see him in the gym when there was one at The Valley open to the public (I was on an – overdue and necessary – return to something approaching fitness campaign). But this post can’t end without an apology. I went down to The Valley last season to answer the call for volunteers to help clear away snow and ice from outside the ground and then from the pitch to try to get the Sheff Wed game played.

I only managed a chunk of the first day (and for the record do not feature in any of the club photos taken as I took advantage of the break to go to the tunnel and get someone to take a couple of shots of me doing a ‘Sir Chris’ leap out) and, while the work outside was exemplary, when it came to getting the snow off the pitch I can’t help feeling our less than professional efforts contributed to the poor state of the pitch on the East Stand side for the subsequent month or so. And we lost the bloody game. If there’s any quid pro quo, it was pretty muddy once the snow came off and I fell on my posterior while helping to drag the covers on. In times gone by I would have kept the stain on the jeans, but it was a cold day – and it might have been hard to explain to people, including my French partner Suzanne, exactly why I was happy to wear in public a pair in that condition.