Charlton 2 Blackpool 2

It's good to know that Arsene Wenger reads this blog. Two weeks ago I questioned his judgement in letting Francis Coquelin stay out on loan and just days later he recalled him. So it's my fault that Charlton's midfield today was a work of desperate bricolage. When we saw the team no-one could really work out who would be playing where or what the formation would be. By half time we were no nearer an understanding, but were 1-1 down to an awful Blackpool team.

As far as I could tell the plan was to have Solly and Buyens as sort-of defensive central midfielders, with Gudmundssohn on the left, and Cousins wandering where'er he would. (Harriot and Vetokele up front, not that it mattered.) And watching all these square pegs in round holes was Lawrie Wilson on the bench, staring blankly into the bloody big Lawrie Wilson-shaped hole in front of Joe Gomez at right back.

Gomez's performance was the saving grace of the game: he looked ridiculously authoritative and comfortable for a 17 year old. Everything else was disappointment. Even Andre Bikey, who I really hope doesn't read this blog, had a bad day, crowningnotcrowning it with the kind of fluffed shot that would bring forth a delightful missus-related quip from Harry ("Arry") Redknapp.

Cousins' goal was a delight too, but evidence, I submit, that this rubbish Blackpool side were there for the taking. They couldn't defend against an attacking move that had a grain of imagination and daring in it, a grain more than any other attacking move all afternoon contained.

The sense I've had all season is that Peeters is very effective at drilling into the team the importance of holding their position. Once the play goes out of any player's zone, they leave it; it's not their problem any more, they must not get drawn away from their basic role. Defensively, this normally works. Defenders don't get dragged out of position, but regroup back. In terms of attack, though, it's disastrous. Midfielders seem scared to run at the opposition defence, and so the ball spends more time going sideways than a crab on ice.

Oh no, I've broken my self-imposed silence about tactical matters. Things must be bad. Two weeks ago, the first home defeat of the season left everyone feeling not that bad considering. This draw felt much more like a defeat, and the way it was surrendered was morale-sapping. Big Bob has a lot of emotional work to do before the next game, away to Blackburn. At least there won't be many people there to see it. Happy Christmas!

Charlton 0 Ipswich 1

I did write posts about the last two games, but honestly you should thank me for not posting them. Like any other football blogger I love writing about a win, but draws are hard to get excited about and I was sending myself to sleep trying to find anything remotely interesting to say about the goalless draw against our neighbours, while the draw against their northern counterparts seems not to have left a trace on my memory.

Of course, the best thing to write about is a horrible defeat, but that's not quite what we got yesterday. Obviously it was gutting to see the point slip away, but before then, especially in the first half, we'd seen the best, most positive performance from Charlton for a long time. Because of where I sit - in the West Stand since you ask, basking in unusual winter sunshine because of the lunchtime kick-off - and no, the rays of the sun didn't cause any of the undead sitting around me to spontaneously combust - Jordan Cousins stood out: he was playing as if determined to make the game his own, getting into the right position time and time again, controlling the ball faultlessly and finding the right pass.

But no-one had a bad first half. Callum Harriot was back at his best, for example, and Francis Coquelin again made me wonder about Arsene Wenger's judgement. Coquelin's 23 and by now should either be a squad member at Arsenal (who aren't overflowing with defensive midfield options) or be sold. Still, gift horse/mouth. Thanks Arsene.

As in last year's game, Ipswich played the first half toward their own supporters, and looked like they wanted to repeat last year's early goal. But this year Charlton has a defence, and their initial flurry quickly subsided. Charlton began to make half-chances.

In the second half, the sheer quality of Charlton's play, perhaps inevitably, dropped, but they began to make whole chances. But as in so many games since January 2014 (the window of our discontent) no-one could score. Sorry, what I mean to say is they "lacked productivity offensively". (How I ever came to love the man who could come out with that, I'll never know.) Vetokele, though working hard and covering a lot of ground, looked blunt and maybe a little tired.

When the assistant ref signalled 4 minutes of added time, who didn't know what was going to happen? In another unwelcome reminder of a lot of last season's games the team's concentration was already wavering, and the unavoidable was not avoided.

A defeat, the first at home, that felt horrible but in some ways wasn't. The quality of some of the play was refreshing, and it's now up to the boss to hang on to that positive, rather than return to the negativity that's been creeping in. Next up at the Valley is Blackpool and a quick return to the Valley for the delightful Lee Clark.

Charlton 2 Bolton 1

Imagine Les Dawson with a toothache. That's me, at most games, but last night I was completely upstaged. The seat next to mine doesn't have a season ticket holder, so I get a random variety of neighbours. Last night it was a stoutish man, probably about the same age as me. We should have got on really well. But by the end of the game I wanted to hit him.

Charlton kicked off the first half, and after the second touch of the ball - literally, the second touch! - he was shouting "That's a terrible pass!" If a player wasn't a "waste of space" (Wilson), he "didn't have the pace" (Bulot), he was "useless" (Buyens), or he fell down like a ... , like a ... (he had to think for a while about this one before coming up with the worst insult he could think of) "like a woman" (Tucudean). All this within the first half hour. You can imagine the miserable fun he had during the panicky last half hour, culminating in the substitution of George Tucudean. Normally, scoring one goal and setting up another entitles a player to at least a bit of recognition, you'd think. Invited to applaud, my neighbour shouted "No way!" and folded his arms tighter around himself, a sullen lump of resentment refusing to acknowledge the Romanian's best performance (by far) in a Charlton shirt.

Once again it wasn't pretty, and some players weren't at their best, but a sparse crowd (13,433) had the rare experience of seeing Charlton scoring two goals in one game and the slightly less rare experience of seeing them hanging on through the second half. And as for Tucudean, it was good to see him finally influencing a game decisively. 

So did I leave the ground a changed man? A dizzy optimist seeing fairy dust a-sparkle around the "train cancelled" sign at the station? Not quite, but I was happy. Imagine Sam Allardyce in a pie shop. Actually, don't imagine that. I just have and it made me feel ill.

Charlton 1 Birmingham 1

After 10 minutes this normally feet-on-the-ground - even pessimistic - spectator thought that at last we might see Charlton dominate another team. Birmingham hadn't looked very good and surely the Charlton players, even if a little tired after the midweek heroics, had enough confidence to build on the early lead.

Despite once again fielding a defensively-minded team, Charlton had dominated possession, with Vetokele looking back in goal-scoring touch. He'd narrowly shot wide after 3 minutes and was again showing the speed of turn that can bamboozle defences. On 10 minutes a perfect cross from the intrepid young Bulot found him in a huge amount of space in front of goal and he headed home. Let's do something about that goal difference, we all thought.

I haven't seen a good explanation for what happened next. Bob Peeters looked baffled in the post-match interview: relieved, more than anything, that Birmingham hadn't capitalised on his team's rapid decline. Tiredness? That shouldn't be the case, not 20 minutes into a game on a cool October afternoon. Regular readers will know I'm the last person to offer a theory on what went wrong. All I know is that the close passing game gradually failed. Birmingham closed down the space where earlier Charlton had patiently played the ball around at the back, and Charlton didn't have an alternative gameplan. Oh look, I have offered an explanation. Probably best you ignore it, frankly, but here it is in easy-to-understand flow-chart form.

Anyway, once again the damage was limited and the unbeaten run continues and Charlton go into the international break in 6th position. According to some people that's all that matters, and any criticism is misplaced. But I feel perfectly entitled to say that the last few games have been pretty horrible to watch. While for the rest of the week I can look at the league table and feel happy, the 90 minuteses at the Valley are beginning to feel like a duty fulfilled rather than a pleasure enjoyed; like visiting a tiresome distant relative in the hope you'll be rewarded (in this world or the next) eventually.

Would I rather see Charlton playing with a cavalier abandon and losing occasionally? Not sure, but my fear is that sooner or later the rest of the league will work out how to stifle Charlton - if Lee Clark can do it, it's hardly rocket science - and we'll have dull performances that end in defeat. That really won't be fun.

Charlton 0 Middlesbrough 0

My thoughts turned to valleyology as I saw the squad selection. Only one striker in the starting team. That should do something about the lack of goals. And a 17 year old on the bench. While it's good that he gets a taste of the first-team experience, was it a message from Peeters to Duchatelet? Anyway, I didn't expect a thrilling first half and in that sense I wasn't disappointed.

I'm so glad I don't even attempt to write proper match reports. I'd have had to pay attention during an increasingly lacklustre half, which silenced even the noisy travelling supporters. Instead I was able to contemplate deeper matters. Why do some men call their muscly upper-arms their "guns"?  How pathetic and twisted is that? Why is there not another o in Middlesb[o]rough? What do you call it when a woman tells you - patiently and perhaps patronisingly - what "mansplaining" is? Middlesbrough will always be linked in my mind with defensive play and 0-0 draws, and although they were soundly out-defensived by Charlton, they didn't really look interested. Perhaps it was that league cup marathon in midweek.

When these teams met two years ago I wrote a tricksy, irritating, timey-wimey piece, which even I don't understand anymore. I do apologise but Saturday's match was another game played backwards. Charlton got their second-half slump out of the way before halftime, and actually got livelier as the game went on, partly due to some rather late but smart substitutions, partly due to a crowd that clearly decided a win was possible, and lastly due to a sending off with ten minutes to go.

There weren't many good chances, but the few there were could justifiably have got all three points. So it was an odd feeling. A reminder that this team can attack the goal, even in the second half, and probably should try it more often. Incisive analysis as usual. You're welcome.

Charlton 1 Wolves 1

I wasn't really paying attention at half-time, when an unfortunate case of banter broke out on the pitch. A dumpy-looking old man in a t-shirt, who seemed to enjoy his own jokes, had a bucket of water poured over him, then made a sexist comment. All the clues were there, but I still didn't recognise him until a scattering of outraged tweets filled my timeline. It was like a calamitous transfer window: we've given away Diego Poyet, but for some reason we've kept Jim Davidson.

I still miss Diego, and these comments by Bob Peeters don't convince me otherwise. As I said in my last blatherings I don't think Buyens, for all his abilities, has got the level of fitness to get through 90 minutes at his best, unlike Poyet, who tended to become more noticeable as games went on and those around him tired. I am surprised Buyens hasn't ever been subbed off, but then I look at who's on the bench and it makes more sense. There doesn't seem to be anyone there who can come on and make an impact, and that's a result of the thinness of the squad.

But it's a lucky team - well deserved after so much bad luck last year - and the luckiest man of all is Tal Ben Haim. He's survived two pretty blatant penalty appeals and last night was almost punished for a terrible bit of play, with only the paint on the left goalpost and the way the grass in front of the goal lies saving him. Sooner or later, though ...

A draw was the least Wolves deserved. They fully showed why they've had such an impressive start to the season: they're quick and well-organised. A series of corners in the first half all looked dangerous but were well defended. When Charlton got their first corner, the last thing anyone expected was that it would lead to astounding acrobatics by Bikey, but that's what happened. Wolves weren't daunted, although if Tucudean had scored one or more of his chances, perhaps things would have been different.

The second half was dominated by Wolves. Their equaliser came from another corner, not one of their best, to be honest, but it set up an exciting end to the game where either side could have scored, but - obviously - no-one did. Bulot made a debut appearance as substitute for Lawrie Wilson, but it's too early to tell how good he is. The bloke behind me (we've all got one) grumbled at the end "two points lost". Really, bloke?

Some other views:
Chris Powell's Flat Cap
Charlton Casualty
The CAFC report

Charlton 1 Watford 0

In the most unlikely way, Charlton kept the first clean sheet of the season, and extended their unbeaten start in the league to six games. A heroic defensive performance through a second half of about 55 minutes kept all 3 points and put Charlton into fifth place in the table, only one point off the top. Amazing. I haven't got much to add to (for example) the excellent blogs from Hungry Ted, Chris Powell's Flat Cap, Charlton Casualty, Chicago Addick and the report on the club's website. I'm sure there are more, so apologies to any I've misssed.

One thing that I might just be imagining, though, is that Charlton's pace of play always seems to slow down as the game goes on. In the first half yesterday Vetokele was constantly drawing fouls from the ever-willing-to-oblige Watford defenders with the speed of his turns into space: less so in the second half. And Yoni Buyens - although obviously a huge asset to the team - always looks sharper and more creative in the first half.

Maybe it's true what people say about English football being different: faster and furiouser than the game on the continent, and maybe some of the new players haven't quite adapted to that yet. What that means of course is that the team still has room for improvement, and can and probably will play better.


Blimey.