The Magic of the Cup?

I made an early start this morning to allow time for my porridge to go down sufficiently before embarking on a six mile run.  I needed to finish it in good time to be on my way to White Hart Lane where Charlton were to meet Spurs at 1:30 pm in the third round of the FA Cup. I started supporting the Addicks when my Dad began taking me to the Valley in the mid-1970s. At that time Dad always worked on Saturdays but for a few years Charlton played a number of games each season on a Friday evening in an attempt to increase attendances. This allowed us to attend the Valley on a fairly regular basis. It was a very big ground in those days, and the atmosphere for floodlit games was always good despite the the ground never being more than a quarter full. It was the age of the terraces. You could wander around during the game and always a highlight for me was shelling and munching the Percy Dalton monkey nuts bought in bags from the seller wending his way up and down the crumbing concrete and between the crash barriers.

Fast forward to 2011. After a wonderful sequence of seasons during the noughties when Charlton punched above their weight in the Premier League, the last three and a half season have been rather dismal as the Addicks have plummeted two divisions and teetered on the brink of administration. So a visit to 'the Lane' was certainly something to look forward to. It would also be interesting to see how the players responded following the rather harsh removal on Tuesday of manager Phil Parkinson by the club's spivvy new owners. Realistically the result would be a foregone conclusion. 'Arry Rednapp's free flowing Champions League all stars against a managerless and out of form League One outfit - no contest, surely. But it was FA Cup third round day, maybe a shock could be on the cards. Certainly, the day had begun with a good omen. As I was running along Mile House Lane where it dissects Verulam Golf Course, birthplace of the Ryder Cup, a beautiful and incredibly tiny red robin hopped daintily across my path. For any readers yet to visit the South East London's premier sports venue, The Red Red Robin is the tune Charlton run out to before every game at the Valley. Maybe, just maybe, this would be our day.

I met up with Charlton Casual for a couple of pre-match drinks at Des Vins in St Pancras station before speeding noisily on a bone rattling tube train up to Seven Sisters station on the Victoria Line. We took our seats ten minutes before kick off joining the contingent of 4000 Addicks in good voice.

Charlton worked very hard throughout the 90 minutes and acquitted themselves well, but unlike yesterday at Stevenage, there was to be no sprinkling of the so-called 'magic of the cup' in North London this afternoon. It did cross my mind that if the lads had applied themselves half as well in their last few League One fixtures it would have been a lot harder for the new owners to carry out their seemingly pre-conceived hatchet job on Parky. Predictably 'Arry had rested a number of his best players and the electrifying Gareth Bale was out injured - mixed feelings about this as he would surely have made mincemeat of our statuesque right back Simon Francis, but on the other hand I would have loved to see him play live. The BBC website showed that Charlton had 57% of the possession but far fewer attempts on goal than Spurs. Half time came with the game scoreless, but the sight of the diminutive Croatian, Luka Modric warming up at half time had an ominous feel to it. And so it proved, as he orchestrated a fifteen minute spell in which Spurs raised their game, left our defence for dead and scored three quick goals, the first by Townsend followed by two from Charlton's nemesis Jermaine Defoe.


Thereafter Tottenham lessened their intensity, but continued to create chances which Charlton defended with bravery and determination. Going forward, we even belatedly produced a number of saves from Carlo Cudicini in the Spurs goal, but in truth these were more for the cameras than genuinely world class stops.

Lacking a decisive edge - attacking the Spurs goal in the second half.

The Charlton fans deserve every credit, getting behind the team from start to finish in contrast to the opposition's support who for most of the game would have made Marcel Marceau appear noisy. I guess playing the likes of Charlton has lost some of its appeal for Spurs fans now that the likes of the current European champions can be found occupying the away dressing room.


All in all an enjoyable afternoon. Having travelled to the game more in hope than expectation, I felt no great disappointment on the long, cold walk back to Seven Sisters tube station along Tottenham High Road. In fact, the way things have been going at Charlton recently there was more than a little relief in the air that we had 'only' lost 3-0. Across the Capital, in one of its more up market neighbourhoods another managerless team, Ipswich, were being trounced 7-0 by Chelski.