Ode to Barnsley
T'Barnsley always held a fond affection in my heart. There was that stunning comeback on a chilly early spring afternoon in 1985
when I was just one of 3,832 to see us overturn a 3-0 deficit to win 5-3, and then I was one of several hundred trying to keep warm on a bloody freezing high away terrace at Oakwell in 1992 by doing the conga. We lost, we were rubbish but hey one week later we were returning to The Valley, so no one cared.
Then there are the brass bands for which Barnsley is almost as famous as it's chop. Plus for a small town they for some unknown reason have spawned an awful lot of sportsmen - Darren Gough, Dickie Bird, Martyn Moxon, Geoff Horsfield, Mick McCarthy and David Hirst to name a few.
Anyway enough. Barnsley turned all sour for me in the 45 minutes of tripe dished up by us in November at The Valley, a game I was at, and a game that will take a lot more red wine to diminish the memory off.
Red wine, or maybe a little Oakwell result on Saturday. The game is huge isn't it? Back to back wins for the first time for about a hundred years will do wonders for our slim chances. If we have any chance our task tomorrow is that straight forward.
As I am sure the other bloggers will tell you it has been truly hard to write anything inspiring or positive about Charlton in recent months. I see that the Inspector has taken some compassionate leave
and many other Addick blogs have become silent recently.
Football fans are born hopeful, no more than us Addicks, and I'm looking for any chink of light that I can through this season of darkness. Dicko and Kandol? Racon? ZZ back? Bailey? Tom Soares for another month? Good on those off up the M1 tomorrow, I doff my hat to you all. I'll dig a bottle of red out just in case.