A Christmas CARD advent calendar (Day 25 *FINALE* Page 25)

Superb. What a night that was. As others have said, that was a team full of warriors and heroes.

Weegie Addick said:

If you'll forgive me a little indulgence, here's my memory of that night as published in VOTV:

Right on cue came the loud hammering on the door. That would be the Leeds fans, come to gloat. (It’s the problem with student accommodation – everyone lives next door.) I really couldn’t face them.

What a bittersweet season 1986/7 had been – for the first time in my lifetime we were back in the First Division (back when it still had a proper name), but without a home to call our own: The Valley gradually falling into ever deeper disrepair, weeds invading the pitch, while we squatted unwelcomed and unwelcome at Selhurst Park.
Queuing up at those foreign turnstiles to enter the Arthur Wait Stand for the first match of the season, Dad and I had agreed that we’d jump at the chance to swap the glamour of the top division and fixtures against Manchester United, Arsenal, Villa, Liverpool et al to be back in SE7, even if it meant playing Millwall and Grimsby again instead.

Now I was confronted with double despair: back to the second division without going back to The Valley. This could really spell the end – we were only getting crowds of 5-6,000 at Selhurst for fixtures against run-of-the-mill Division One teams – how many more of the faithful would we lose on relegation? Would the owners who saved us at the last moment in the High Court in 85 continue to fund a club on the football decline?
“Aren’t you going to answer the door?” said my friend Jo, softly.
Jo knew next to nothing about football, and cared even less about it, but she did care about me. She had knocked on that very door just 15 minutes earlier to find me in tears. “What’s wrong, what is it, who is he?” She asked, immediately assuming I was upset over some boy or other – well, actually she was right, only she wasn’t imagining one in football kit.

“That bastard John Sheridan...” I tried to explain, trembling and pointing at my little transistor radio. “Who? Do I know him?” said Jo, looking more puzzled by the moment. “Well, actually it’s really the referee’s fault,” I continued, “didn’t sound like it should have been a free kick in the first place, and as for that smug so and so Trevor Brooking on the commentary, he never liked us anyway. Hah, but at least he won’t get his lovely penalties now – could you believe he was looking forward to them? Oh, I can’t believe we’re going down. They’ve fought so hard all season. I hate these stupid play-offs, it’s just not fair! Do you want a cup of tea?”

With that, I turned off Radio Two, and the dying moments of Charlton in Division One, and put the kettle on.

Any other student day, approaching 10pm on a Friday night, I would have opened a bottle of wine, but I still had two final exams to do the next day (how barbaric – exams on a Saturday!), and I was already an emotional wreck, thanks to Charlton. I’d been there at Selhurst the previous Saturday to see us win the first leg 1-0, and I’d tried every which way to get to Birmingham for this play-off replay, arranged at just a couple of days’ notice, after our 0-1 defeat at Elland Road in the second leg. It seemed like even the FA were making it up as they went along with these new-fangled play-off arrangements – Charlton were having to play one of the top teams from the Second Division to cling on to our place in the First and now it had gone to a neutral ground replay. It really could only happen to us.

The train, bus and coach timetables strewn around my college room all proved that it was impossible to get from Cambridge to Birmingham and back again that same night. The only student I knew who possessed a car had headed merrily off into the graduation sunset in his Citroën 2CV the previous summer. For all my Charlton passion, even I couldn’t risk missing those last two exams and wasting four years’ of study, so the radio commentary it had had to be. If I couldn’t support in public, I’d suffer in private.

More pounding on the door.

I couldn’t just keep ignoring it. The four guys who supported Leeds weren’t that bad a bunch – put on a brave face – no tears - tell them we’d swap back next season, though the knot in my stomach was screaming otherwise. I clicked the lock and the door burst open.

“Two-one, two-one, two-one!!!”

It was Richard and Tim, not the Leeds fans. They were dancing a jig. “What’s wrong, Heather, why aren’t you joining in?” said Richard in his lilting Welsh accent. He was a Merthyr Tydfil supporter whilst Tim was a Spurs fan - I’d dragged them both along to bolster our measly Addick numbers at the Wembley Full Members’ Cup Final a couple of months before. “Peter Shirtliff, eh, who’d have thought it? Two goals! Sounded better than Wembley! Why haven’t you got the radio on?”

Not only had I missed the match in person, but I’d even missed the commentary on those wonderful closing moments, when my Charlton world had turned the right way up again.

I read that in VotV and it hasn't lost any of its emotional appeal on a second reading.

I went by coach with my Aunt. She had bought seats and, unfortunately (and amazingly) they were in a bit with Leeds and Charlton fans. I think we escaped any 'bother' because the Leeds fans were just dumbstruck as it was won in extra time. We ran back to the coach and as we drove through Birmingham some folk had come out of their houses to clap as we went by. Mexicon wave on coach. Magical evening.

That match is NUMBER ONE in my list of games of watching Charlton in my 49years. Without that win Roland would not have a club to have brought...........

If you thought this match was tense The walk back to the station was even more tense. Believe me !!!!

Onlyme said:

Once again excellent stuff, Bob Bolder's 'Roley Poley' celebration at the final whistle is hilarious.

HaHa don't think I've ever noticed that before

I'd say getting rid of Yann was the single biggest mistake this lot has made but then again there's so many to choose from. Anyone who knows their arse from their elbow could see he was a top striker in his prime and our talisman but then of course the people making those decisions didn't know their arse from their elbow and still don't. Some absolute belting goals, the header against Blackburn epitomised him for me.

Right, that's it. I'm going Saturday and may dig out a Santa hat to go with the black and white scarf.

Onlyme said:

Wow, what a player!! apparently not good enough for us according to Thomas and Katiren

Just what I was thinking as I was watching that. Forcing him out was the first warning sign that they didn't have a clue. Spending twice as much on Parzyszek as we got for Yann was just adding salt to the wounds.

Redrobo said:

Right, that's it. I'm going Saturday and may dig out a Santa hat to go with the black and white scarf.

Get a black and white ba humbug santa hat. sorted.

AFKABartram said:

Didn't realise how many good goals he scored.

Loved Yann

Nor me! Wow, what a player. He lit up The Valley with his goals, enthusiasm for the club and fans. My favourite game has to be the one where he ended up looking like Mr Bump with the head bandages. Leicester let a great one go but so did this set of morons we have now!
Thanks for the memories, Nug!