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Charlton 1 (Dervite 90) AFC Bournemouth 0.

Kevin Nolan reports from The Valley.

A useful if deflating 0-0 draw -their third in a row under Jose Riga’s embryonic stewardship – seemed as much as Charlton could expect from this evenly contested duel when the fourth official informed us that four minutes would be added. It wan’t set in stone yet, though, because in Johnnie Jackson’s setpiece skills, the Addicks had one last ace to play.

Coming under mounting pressure, Bournemouth were beginning to unravel, Tommy Elphick’s panicky shove on Jon Obika betraying frayed nerves. The skipper’s unnecessary foul allowed Jackson to try his luck from a promisingly placed free kick, an opportunity the inspirational home captain clearly relished. His curling delivery was on target but Lee Camp got both hands to the ball and shovelled it over the bar. And that was that, or so it seemed.

Except, of course, that momentum was still with the Addicks as Jackson hustled his “old bones” out to take the left wing corner. His perfect outswinger was thundered past Camp by Dorian Dervite’s head and the Cherries had suffered the same desperately late fate as QPR a month ago. The Valley erupted in mindless euphoria again, with Dervite leading an ecstatic procession in the direction of the dug-out, while Jackson, ever the maverick, headed off alone to commune with his North Stand public. There ain’t nuthin’ – not nuthin’ – to beat the last gasp winner!

A winner which admittedly, during Bournemouth’s opening half hour of domination, seemed highly unlikely. Eddie Howe’s well-coached side have made light work of the Championship following promotion from League One last season and they showed a fretting home crowd how they’ve gone about it. Neat and constructive in their approach, they kept the ball, passed and moved cohesively, causing the Addicks problems in staying with them. While leading marksman Lewis Grabban was well shackled by Dervite and Michael Morrison, however, the visitors rarely threatened to break through and Charlton dug in, survived and steadily improved. As Howe conceded later, the Cherries “didn’t look like scoring.” Neither did the Addicks until Dervite’s belated Gallic flourish.

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During the South Coasters’ period of ascendancy, there were occasional chances, the first of which midfielder Marc Pugh drove narrowly too high. Steve Cook’s crisp half volley tested Ben Hamer; ex-Addick Harry Arter did likewise from 30 yards; at the other end, Danny Green took Diego Poyet’s pass in stride, cut in from the left and forced Camp into a smart save at his near post. Jackson’s inswinging corner was glanced wide by Dervite, then Green’s intended cross clipped the outside of a post with Camp a startled onlooker. Obika announced his 41st minute arrival in place of an injured Callum Harriott by turning sharply but firing straight at Camp.

The balance shifted after the interval and the consistently outstanding Poyet came close to claiming his first senior goal with a dipping volley which shaved the bar but Bournemouth were still an occasional handful. Pugh was their driving force and his fine right-footed curler beat Hamer but drifted inches wide of the far post.

Alongside fellow teenager Poyet, a reinvigorated Jordan Cousins forms a defensive midfield shield of precocious quality, with Charlton’s record of 41 goals conceded in 33 games bettered by only six Championship rivals. Centre backs Dervite and Morrison continue in sturdy form, and with full backs Lawrie Wilson and Rhoys Wiggins a match for any around, the Addicks are difficult to breach. Three successive clean sheets, meanwhile, establish Hamer’s right to be in goal. Defensively and in midfield, where Jackson makes nonsense of claims he’s over the hill, the Addicks are in sound shape. Up front, with only 25 goals to date, it’s obviously not so healthy but Obika might help as he did last term.

The urgent arrival set up Cousins to slice wildly wide before, on 80 minutes, Charlton’s best chances so far were magnificently foiled by Camp. Slipped through by Cousins, Simon Church’s shot on the run was blocked by the advancing keeper; the rebound cannoned off the referee to Jackson, whose first time effort was also saved by the defiant Camp. The Addicks were building up a head of steam by now and suddenly 976 pilgrims from leafy Hampshire were baying for the final whistle. It arrived eventually…but a heartbeat too late from their point of view. One corner, one header and that was all she wrote.

Burnley up next and further good news via Bournemouth…former Cherry Danny Ings won’t be around to torment us. You take comfort where you find it.

Charlton: Hamer, Wilson, Morrison, Dervite, Wiggins, Green (Sordell 65), Cousins, Poyet, Jackson, Harriott (Obika 41), Church. Not used: Thuram, Pritchard, Wood, Tudgay, Nego.
Booked: Wiggins, Jackson, Obika.

Bournemouth: Camp, Francis, Elphick, Cook, Harte, O’Kane (Kermorgant 59), Pugh, Arter, Fraser (Smith 83), Surman, Grabban (Rantie 70). Not used: Allsop, MacDonald, Coulibaly, Ward. Booked: Elphick.

Referee: J. Linington.

Att: 13,537: a second below-par attendance (12,974 for Huddersfield last week) indicates some fans are “walking with their feet”, as a mate of mine puts it, in protest at the club’s treatment of Chris Powell. They’re certainly voting with them but you just know the noblest Addick of us all would be as chuffed as anyone at this vital victory. We’re on the one road, sharing the one load….

Millwall 0 Charlton 0.

Kevin Nolan reports from The Den.

As this desperate Championship season drags to its conclusion, Charlton are taking pigeon steps to safety. Their second successive 0-0 draw painstakingly hauled them off the foot of the table to the relatively nosebleed-inducing position of third from bottom. Their healthy goal advantage over their rivals, reliant on stubborn defending but feebly supported at the other end, might well prove decisive. What they need now is the giant step which the winning of at least one of their games in hand would give them. There’s no time like the present, with inconveniently on-form Bournemouth visiting The Valley on Tuesday.

Despite hints by Ian Holloway to the contrary, neither side did enough to win this earnest if uninspired derby. Chances were evenly distributed in a game seemingly destined to finish goalless. And there weren’t many of those. The best of Millwall’s fell to lively 17 year-old Fred Onyedinma, who headed Shaun William’s perfect 8th minute cross agonisingly wide.

Holloway was right to big up the kid’s uninhibited full debut and to lament his failure, by mere inches, to crown it with the winning goal. He also sung the praises of several other up-and-coming cubs coming through the Lions’ system.

Managers are, though, notoriously myopic when it comes to the opposition and the home supremo could be forgiven for failing to notice that in 18-year old Diego Poyet the visitors boasted this grimly contested game’s outstanding player One of three recent Sparrows Lane graduates (Callum Harriott and interval substitute Jordan Cousins being the others) on show, Poyet’s special talent, one bound for Premier League glory, stood out.

There’s nothing remotely flashy about the sturdy, two-footed defensive midfielder. He simply gets the ball down, plays it short or long, makes the right choices between both and positively enjoys a tackle. Probably born no farther than a goalkick from a football pitch, he has already made himself the side’s engine room heartbeat while on his precocious shoulders rests much of the responsibility for Charlton’s survival hopes. Then he’ll be on his way to more lucrative employment elsewhere. Bit ironic, really, given the new owner’s enthusiasm for youth development, that the club seems unconcerned about securing the immediate future of Poyet and others. More the fault of the previous regime to be fair, but do whip out the old cheque book, Roland, and at least have a go at keeping hold of him.

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On a glorious Spring afternoon, meanwhile, these relegation haunted sides battled through a stalemate, the result of which might be marginally more pleasing to the visitors. Understandably disappointed but anxious to accentuate the positive, Holloway sounded quite convincing in claiming that Millwall’s three-point advantage meant more than Charlton’s four games in hand. It’s a tough call and he may be proved right but the initiative just might have switched from SE 16 to SE 7 following this stand-off. A relieved Jose Riga clearly thought so and hailed Charlton’s resilience. Chris Powell will be sorely missed, of course, but the new gaffer is polite, courteous and deserving of respect. It’s Ch-arlton, not Sh-arlton by the way, Jose, but that’s a mistake any newcomer could make. Nothing personal.

Following young Fred’s close shave, Harriott took up the slack for the Addicks. Unfortunately, his indecisive shot at the end of a three-on-two break was too weak to seriously worry David Forde and did much to explain Charlton’s miserable record of 24 goals in 32 games. A deflected riposte from Simeon Jackson, saved alertly by Ben Hamer, was fiercer but Millwall themselves have scored only 32 times in 36 games and are undermined, in the significant statistical duel, by the 62 they have conceded.

With his usual eye for an opening, Johnnie Jackson found space for a stooping header from Astrit Adjarevic’s outswinging corner but Forde collected capably. At the other end Steve Morison, though less mobile than in his palmy days, during which he scored four times in two games against Charlton, needed supervision close to goal. Chesting down Alan Dunne’s centre in surprising space, he swivelled to scuff wide, then hacked away like a circular saw at a loose ball on the six-yard line, growing ever closer before Dorian Dervite hurriedly cleared. Before the interval Ed Upson’s 30 -yard volley was awkwardly scrambled away from his right post by Hamer.

Shortly after the break, Harriott missed Charlton’s best chance. Meeting Bradley Pritchard’s cleverly curled cross beyond the far post, he got the better of Williams but clumsily bundled the ball wide. Substitute Reza Ghoochannejhad was at least on target but hardly more effective with the weak effort he topped at Forde. But it was 6’8″ beanpole Stefan Maierhofer who squandered the second period’s clearest opportunity with 20 minutes remaining. Picked out by Owen Garvan’s wickedly delivered corner, the goal seemed at his mercy but if it’s possible to snatch at a header, that’s what he did and sent it soaring over the bar.

With the Lions closing more strongly, an untidy free-for-all, triggered by Ryan Fredericks’ up-and-under and featuring the inevitable Morison, was hastily resolved by the ubiquitous Johnnie Jackson In added time, Hamer pawed away Garvan’s free kick leaving honours, if that’s the right word, even. We reconvene on Tuesday for the next chapter in the saga.

Millwall: Forde, Dunne (Fredericks 72), Robinson, Lowry, Williams, Upson (Maierhofer 51), Onyedinma, Woolford, Garvan, Jackson (McDonald 56), Morison. Not used: Bywater, Beavers, Malone, Marquis. Booked: Dunne, Lowry, Williams.

Charlton: Hamer, Wilson, Morrison, Dervite, Wiggins, Pritchard (Church 78), Poyet, Jackson, Adjarevic (Cousins 46), Harriott, Sordell (Ghoochannejhad 66). Not used: Thuram, Green, Wood, Nego. Booked: Pritchard, Jackson, Sordell.

Referee: Phil Dowd. Att: 16,102 (2431 visiting).

Charlton 0 Huddersfield Town 0.

Kevin Nolan reports from The Valley.

So inevitably money didn’t so much talk as swear. And Chris Powell, despite being poised to join Jimmy Seed and Alan Curbishley in Charlton’s “greatest ever manager” musings was its victim. “Out, out brief candle!” A candle contemptuously extinguished.

For three years, beginning and symmetrically ending in Sheffield, the club had their own “special one” in charge, a man with gravitas, dignity and individuality. Not to mention a lifetime’s experience in English football. He helped Charlton’s supporters feel good about themselves. But he didn’t suit an owner destined to be recalled by fans, with no disrespect intended, as “that Belgian bloke” ten minutes after he, himself, finally leaves the building.

Nothing personal, of course, strictly business. Now apparently we must all move on. But perhaps our future is “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” We might not like where we’re moving. Say we’re farmed out to Belgium as sub-Standard Liege. You’d hear some sound and fury then.

“Time will tell if it is the right decision”, M. Duchatelet reassured us in a hastily re-written matchday programme. Far from implying he’s an idiot but that’s a statement signifying an alarming lack of conviction. And maybe we don’t need time to tell that his decision is ruinous to Charlton’s reputation as an honourable club swimming against the tide in an ocean of corporate sharks. Our loss will be another fortunate club’s gain.

Some of Chris Powell’s class clearly rubbed off on the fans because, in the third minute of Wednesday’s game, an unrehearsed minute’s applause in honour of the great man began, swelled and spread over three sides of the ground. It wasn’t sanctioned, it wasn’t official but it didn’t need to be to make its point. Even those who had questioned his savvy joined in. They’re a bolshie lot, these Charlton fans, as they demonstrated to devastating effect a quarter century ago and they’re still devilishly hard to control. But there was no malice, no spite, in what was a spontaneous salute to a man these people- or most of them- respect and admire. The Nolan throat doesn’t go in for lumps as a rule but it had a little difficulty in clearing itself for a while.

It was equally obvious that the impromptu tribute was in no way directed in criticism of the new managerial incumbent. The king is dead (or reported dead until one day he returns, as return hopefully he will) and though it tempts fate in the ephemeral world of football management to say it, long live the king. Because, as almost an afterthought, there was an important football match to play and it was now Jose Riga’s red-and-white army until further notice.

Unconcerned by the fuss, Huddersfield Town had stolen into The Valley to make it clear from kick-off that they had scant sympathy for local grief. The Terriers were organised, obdurate, obstinate. They were also bent on frustrating the Addicks in their intention to depart with a point. Familiarity has bred not quite contempt as understandable wariness between the sides following seven clashes within sixteen months. They know each other well and that knowledge dictated mutual caution.
Charlton’s players had convened their own meeting shortly before the game to reaffirm their commitment to their club and their admirable resolve showed. They had the better of things but that chronic deficiency at the business end of the pitch again bedevilled them. In other words, they just cannot score a goal. Or even buy one. Twenty four in thirty one games now… with the ratio deteriorating.

In strict chronological order, most of the first half chances fell to the home side. Astrit Adjarevic’s 30-yarder was smartly saved by Alex Smithies; Johnnie Jackson’s corner cleared Peter Clarke’s head but a surprised Michael Morrison sidefooted wide; Reza Ghoochannejhad volleyed another Jackson corner similarly off target; Adjarevic’s cleverly curled shot was well saved by Smithies; Reza was narrowly beaten to Rhoys Wiggins’ cross by Paul Dixon at the near post; Adjarevic managed a goalbound header from Jackson’s latest corner but Marvin Sordell inadvertently blocked his effort.

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It wasn’t quite the relentless bombardment this account suggests and Town had moments of their own as they improved. Ben Hamer was required to save from the elusive Nakhi Wells, then defy good efforts from Jonathan Hogg and Danny Ward before the interval. Charlton’s in-form keeper also had one second half scare when Wells rounded him but was unable to squeeze his shot past Dorian Dervite from a diminishing angle.

A revitalised Sordell began the second period by sending Harriott’s pass wide before missing Charlton’s best chance a quarter hour from the end. Sent clear by the marvellously precocious Diego Poyet’s cunningly chipped pass, he shot on the run but was blocked by the alertly advancing Smithies. This game had “goalless” written all over it.

A rare visit to the post-game press room seemed in order but it was hard to work up enthusiasm for slick analysis or ingratiation. Mr Riga seems a thoroughly decent chap and will, of course, be cut considerable slack. But there was a void where Chris Powell’s comforting presence should have been and the old mind wandered. Where recently it would have been restlessly weighing the pros and cons of a valuable point while worrying about its implications, somehow it didn’t seem to matter as much. Let Bob Dylan, the Bill Shakespeare of our time, bring his usual pith to my dilemma: “I used to care but… things have changed.”

Nah, forget that Bob, they’ve changed alright but I’ll soon care again. We’re at Millwall on Saturday. That’s enough to concentrate anyone’s mind.

Charlton: Hamer: Wilson, Morrison, Dervite, Wiggins, Ajdarevic, Poyet, Harriott (Cousins 85) Jackson, Ghoochannejhad (Pritchard 64), Sordell (Church 78). Not used: Thuram, Green, Wood, Nego. Booked: Poyet.

Huddersfield: Smithies, Woods, Clarke, Hogg, Dixon, Scannell (Hamill 75), Clayton, Wallace, Ward, Wells (Paterson 75), Southern. Not used: Bennett, Norwood, Gobern, Stead, Smith. Booked: Dixon.   

Referee: K. Hill. Att: 12,974 (440 visiting).

Sheffield United 2 (Flynn 65, Brayford 67) Charlton 0.

Kevin Nolan reports from Bramall Lane.

They mischievously called it Black Sabbath to commemorate the marvellous Sunday on which Charlton, turned out as off-duty clerics, hammered Arsenal 4-2 at Highbury on November 4th 2001.

It was a memorable occasion but, in hindsight at least, perhaps a little too much was made of it. After all, we do beat Arsenal from time to time and going on about it rather overlooked that point. We ended up patronising ourselves. Special video. Patting our own back. Ruffling our own hair. Plucky little Charlton. As an established Premiership team at the time, we should have treated it as no big deal – even if it was.

For different reasons, Sunday’s debacle also deserves a name of its own. Bleak Sabbath. That’s my shot. Feel free to make up your own. Because this really was the pits.
We might have known we were in for it when results on Saturday plunged the Addicks to the bottom of the Championship table. All four or our closest rivals won without conceding a goal between them. So we arrived at Bramall Lane, only partly dressed as priests this tiime but cursing our luck like unrepentant sinners. It was hard to tell the giants from the giant killers. But events soon sorted that out.

Honest, committed but hardly inspired, United laboured for a while before dismissing their timid visitors. Snapping into tackles, first to anything loose, unselfish in support of each other, they compensated for obvious shortcomings with sheer willpower. Charlton’s response was flabby, lacklustre, devoid of spark. If they take this form into their remaining league games, we won’t need any elderly, gloomy Scotsman to warn us we’re doomed.

A featureless first half actually offered the “big shots” false hope of a result. In fact, Marcus Tudgay’s faintly deflected snapshot, saved awkwardly at full length by Mark Howard, was the closest either side came to scoring; Simon Church kept the rebound alive but tamely returned it to the struggling keeper. At the other end, Jamie Murphy fired an acceptable chance over the bar, while Ben Hamer’s sharp anticipation helped him reach John Brayford’s outswinging cross before Murphy could pounce. This tepid Cup tie was heading for an unwanted replay until a 63rd minute turning point changed its course.

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A spiteful foul, followed by a little “afters” by left back Bob Harris on Jordan Cousins near the halfway line, allowed a typically alert Johnnie Jackson to flight a quick free kick into Tudgay’s run through the inside right channel. His angle narrowed by the advancing Howard, the striker’s improvised lob from the byline over the stranded keeper set up Callum Harriott eight yards from a gaping goal. Unhindered by United’s outwitted defence, who were still bitching about the blindingly obvious free kick, Harriott stretched to meet the chance on the half-volley but, with his body shape all wrong, sent it wide of the right post.

The escape galvanised the Blades. Two minutes later, they were in front with assistance, it should be said, from generous defending by their visitors. There seemed no particular danger threatened by Jose Baxter’s diagonal cross from the left touchline but a distracted Richard Wood allowed it to clear his head on its way towards the far post. Surprised by his colleague’s hesitation, Rhoys Wiggins stood flatfooted as Ryan Flynn stole in behind him to scuff the ball over Hamer into the opposite corner.
Battered old Bramall Lane went understandably berserk and had more to celebrate almost immediately. Harriott’s loss of possession upfield set in motion a sweeping move which ended with John Brayford trying his luck from outside the penalty area. Any doubt that this was United’s day was removed by the unlucky deflection off Wood which helped the coveted right back’s unconvincing shot to beat a hopelessly wrongfooted Hamer.

A disorderly, dispirited rabble somehow limped to the final whistle without further damage as the jubilant Blades strolled into a lucrative semi-final engagement with Hull City at Wembley. From the debris, these disheartened Addicks must now regroup before resuming the  bread-and-butter business of staying in the Championship. A goal here and there would be invaluable and in the brief cameo offered by 71st minute substitute Reza Ghoochannejhad, there came a glimpse of a forward capable of scoring one. In added time, Reza reacted sharply as a bounce favoured him, with minimal backlift snapped off a fierce, instinctive drive on the turn and was foiled only by Howard’s magnificent reflex save. It was the response of a natural finisher and reminded travelling fans of his equally resourceful volley which hit the bar at Wigan. He might drift in and out of games but there’s a goal in him and he should be trusted to deliver one before it’s too late. What’s to lose?

Elsewhere there was concern over jaded performances from, among others, young Jordan Cousins and even Wiggins. There’s a tired, weak look to the team and we’ll discover at The Valley against Huddersfield Town on Wednesday whether it’s a terminal condition. And then of course there’s the attractive trip to Millwall on Saturday. On second thoughts, we’ll leave that one on hold for a bit longer. Terriers first, then Lions as we work our way through the animal kingdom…

Charlton: Hamer, Wilson (Ghoochannejhad 71), Morrison, Wood, Wiggins, Cousins, Poyet (Green 71), Jackson, Harriott, Tudgay, Church (Adjarevic 65), Not used: Thuram, Hughes, Dervite, Nego. Booked: Jackson, Harriott.

Sheffield United: Howard, Brayford, Maguire, Collins, Harris, Flynn (McGinn 90), Doyle, Baxter (Davies 81), Scougall (Porter 86), Murphy, Coady. Not used: Hill, Miller, Long, Freeman. Booked: Baxter, McGinn

Referee: Lee Mason. Att: 30,040 (5,331 visiting).

Leicester City 3 (Vardy 9, Drinkwater 48, Nugent 64) Charlton 0.

Kevin Nolan reports from the Kingpower Stadium.

A systematic going-over from the best side in the Championship was hardly recommended but Charlton will be wise to shrug this one off and put it down to bad experience. I’d advise them to “move on” if I fully understood what that fatuous phrase meant. It will console them that they’re finished with Leicester City this season and that they remain one of only five sides to have beaten them in the league. So I guess there’s a little “closure” to be found there. Someone get me help because this drivel seeps into your subconscious while you’re daydreaming.

A repetition of that outstanding result on August 31st was never remotely on the cards at the impressive Kingpower Stadium, where City gained emphatic revenge as well as disproving the theory that Charlton, after three consecutive wins over them, are their bogey team. In each of those victories, Yann Kermorgant had scored against his unlamented former club. On Saturday, he was strutting his stuff on the South Coast, where his hat-trick against Doncaster Rovers did his more genuinely missed ex-teammates a massive favour. The popular Breton is unlikely to be quite so helpful when Bournemouth visit The Valley on March 18th.

In the East Midlands, meanwhile, champions-elect Leicester show no signs of freezing as their return to the Premier League grows nearer. Relaxed and confident, the Foxes eased any potential pressure by scoring as early as the ninth minute before cruising smoothly through the rest of a resoundingly one-sided game. Charlton didn’t get a look-in but were mercifully spared a demoralising drubbing as their tormentors turned in an otherwise pitch-perfect performance. After their battling victories over QPR and Sheffield Wednesday, this was an unpleasant return to reality.

It might be stretching it a bit to compare Nigel Pearson’s well-schooled team with majestic Barcelona but their stall is set out to emulate the masters. Rarely dribbling past opponents, they prefer instead to progress through sharp passing to feet, which invites interceptions as the ball zips from player to player but offers few opportunities to do so. And 62 goals in 33 league games means they take their chances.  Even at this modest level, Charlton were hitched to an exhausting carousel which has frustrated so many of Barcelona’s victims.

Not that they needed it, of course, but the Foxes also enjoyed a slice of luck in opening the scoring. As Richard Wood’s crunching challenge dispossessed Anthony Knockaert, David Nugent was allowed to turn unchallenged on a fortuitous ricochet from what looked suspiciously like an offside position. His nicely timed square pass was taken in stride by Jamie Vardy, who cut inside Rhoys Wiggins and finished unconvincingly through the goalline efforts of Lawrie Wilson.

As the Addicks chased ever elusive shadows, the issue was effectively reduced to a duel between City and Ben Hamer. Following on from his nobbins display at Hillsborough, the in-form keeper produced a string of defiant saves which technically, if not realistically, kept the outclassed visitors in with a chance.

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Before Vardy scored, Hamer had brilliantly blocked the mobile sharpshooter in a one-on-one clash, before diving full length to pluck Knockaert’s low cross off Ritchie De Laet’s feet at the far post. Confronted again by Vardy, he pounced on the striker’s faulty touch and beat him to the loose ball. In reply, the visitors managed a few scraps, most notable among which was the flighted ball from Michael Morrison which cleared a hesitant Jeffrey Schlupp but was unsuccessfully lobbed at Kaspar Schmeichel by Simon Church. More depressing for the Addicks was the sight of Morrison almost immediately leaving the field in distress. A packed agenda of fixtures would be far harder to negotiate without their key defender.

Three minutes after the break, Hamer was at it again only for his luck to run out this time. Having saved magnificently from Nugent, he was left helpless as Danny Drinkwater ferociously lashed the rebound high into the net.

Collapse was imminent but Hamer, aided by some wayward finishing from City, had other ideas. He reacted superbly to keep out another of Drinkwater’s blockbusters, his defiance inspiring a rare moment of activity at the other end, during which Wood strained to reach Astrit Ajdarevic’s wickedly delivered free kick but nodded it narrowly over the bar at the far post.
Midway through the second period, Nugent finally notched the goal his unremitting efforts deserved. Running directly into the heart of a wilting defence, he picked his spot for a low drive, struck expertly with the outside of his right foot, which beat Hamer on its way into the net off the left post.

Before the end there were more great saves from Hamer, easily the pick of them his stupendous parry of Nugent’s close range ripsnorter after fine work by hardrunning De Laet, possibly the division’s best right back. But the damage was limited to injured egos, bruised pride and boneweary limbs. None of them are beyond repair. And we’re free again to concentrate on the Cup. This train could be bound for glory, this train.

Leicester: Schmeichel, De Laet, Morgan, Wasielewski, Schlupp, Mahrez, Drinkwatewr (Hammond 76), James (King 70), Knockaert, Nugent, Vardy (Wood 67). Not used: Moore, Taylor-Fletcher, Logan, Phillips. Booked: Vardy,

Charlton: Hamer, Wilson, Morrison (Dervite 21), Wood, Wiggins, Cousins (Hughes 60), Poyet, Adjarevic (Tudgay 60), Jackson, Harriott, Church. Not used: Green Ghoochannejhad, Thuram, Fox. Booked: Harriott, Poyet.

Referee: Jeremy Simpson. Att: 24,742 (867 visiting).

Sheffield Wednesday 1 (Best 57) Charlton 2 (Harriott 22, Church 65).

Kevin Nolan reports from Hillsborough.

Let’s get one thing straight. There is little evidence to suggest that Charlton’s chances of avoiding relegation will be affected by their convoluted Cup run. These bonny battlers show every sign of coping with whatever is thrown at them so bring on the sixth round at Bramall Lane. Winning is contagious. Meanwhile, relax. You’ll need your rest.

This delayed 5th round win, hard on the heels of an epic league victory over QPR, was bitterly earned over a side desperate to secure a titanic, money-spinning clash with their despised local rivals. There were dollar signs clouding Sheffield Wednesday’s eyes but they might have made the mistake of spending the money before the cheque arrived. No Steel City derby for them. Nor Sheffield United. Charlton proved to be what John Lennon called a Spaniard in the Works.

Wednesday were left with regrets but few complaints. They were beaten by visitors with an insatiable hunger for success which carried them through numerous rough spots. Four of Monday night’s heroes were recent Academy graduates, one of them (Morgan Fox) making his senior club debut, as Chris Powell showed yet again that he is prepared to trust youth. Mind you, he placed them under the veteran eye of skipper Johnnie Jackson, whose crowdsurfing weekend celebrations faced a tougher test at Hillsborough, where travelling fans are squirrelled away in a remote top tier behind a goal. A suited-and-booted Powell duly stepped up to the challenge by swinging on the crossbar at the end. Undignified, of course, but the occasion got to him, as it had many of us on Saturday.

In the early going, the Owls hardly managed a touch. Buoyed by the pressure-releasing dismissal of QPR, the confident Londoners got among them, hogged the ball and should have scored before a resurgent Callum Harriott gave them a 22nd minute lead. Set up by Harriott’s darting run, Astrit Ajdarevic fired a shot against Glenn Loovens’ legs, then squirted the rebound off another blue-and-white defender for a fruitless corner. But the Addicks were not kept waiting long for their breakthrough.

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A restless blend of skill and strength, 18-year old Diego Poyet is in the first team to stay, or someone else’s first team unless Roland Duchatelet ties him down to a deal. His hustling urgency won him possession to the right of Wednesday’s goal, with his ball in screwed wildly but effectively by Ajdarevic into Harriott’s feet on the edge of the penalty area. Still only a kid but slightly more experienced than his former U-21 mates, the 19-year old left winger did what came naturally in firing an unstoppable drive into the top left corner.

Well on top, the Addicks created a string of chances to make this tie safe before the interval. A senior citizen compared to Poyet, yet another19-year old (sorry about turning this into a litany of ages but this was a bunch of adolescents strutting their stuff) in Jordan Cousins forced Damian Martinez to save awkwardly at his near post with a blistering drive before more industry by Poyet set up Simon Church, whose tame effort hardly troubled Martinez. At the other end, Chris Maguire’s cross swung dangerously but untouched across goal. The Owls were improving but a formidable goalkeeper stood in their way.

Preferred to Yohann Thuram, Ben Hamer was a study in composure, first in dealing with Gary Gardner’s long range rocket, then effortlessly beating down Leon Best’s fierce half-volley after the striker eluded Fox (not 21 until September, by the way).
With a massive prize dangling in front of them, the South Yorkshiremen hauled themseves back ino contention after the interval. A rare slip by Poyet gave Jacques Maghoma enough space to curl a shot narrowly wide and though Jackson sent Ajdarevic’s lay-off skimming past a post in reply, Wednesday’s equaliser was on the cards.

A foul by Richard Wood on Gardner conceded a free kick, bent in by Maguire and touched on by Miguel Llera. In the ensuing chaos, Best hammered a rising drive through the heaving masses and Hillsborough at last erupted. Its relief wasn’t to last.

While Charlton briefly sagged, Fox’s foul on Best caused another hectic scramble from Maguire’s inevitably accurate setpiece but the home side’s equality lasted less than ten minutes before they fell behind again. Llera’s foul on Church was professional enough to earn him a yellow card from referee Mark Clattenburg but oil was poured on his troubled waters as Jackson’s wickedly dipping free kick was bundled past Martinez by a dubious combination of Church’s head/shoulder/arm. Wednesday’s protests were perfunctory and the goal stood.

What remained was an intense siege of Charlton’s goal, during which Hamer distinguished himself. His instinctive reaction in clawing Adthe Nuhui’s resounding header off the goalline after it cleared Harriott’s head and bounced off the inside of the left post was impressive. So was his plunging effort to beat Nuhiu to Maghoma’s whipped-in cross, then steal the loose ball off Best’s toe. But his piece-de-resistance was put aside for added time.

Already airborne in pursuit of Maguire’s vicious 20-yard drive, the keeper’s problems were complicated by a treacherous deflection off Michael Morrison. Finding an extra extension from somewhere, he managed to conjure the ball over the bar. If catches win matches, as ex-England opener and Sheffield Wednesday nut Michael Vaughan would surely confirm, then marvellous saves like this one certainly make sure you don’t lose them. Hamer’s performance surely resolved Charlton’s goalkeeping dilemma in his favour. We’ll find out at Leicester next Saturday as this crowded season gathers added pace. Keep the faith.

Wednesday: Martinez, Palmer, Loovens, Llera, Mattock, Maghoma, Coke (Lavery 58), Gardner (Nuhiu 58), Maguire, Afobe (Helan 74), Best. Not used: Kirkland, Buxton, Onyewu, Hutchinson. Booked: Llera, Mattock, Loovens, Best.

Charlton: Hamer, Wilson, Morrison, Wood (Dervite 90), Fox, Wilson, Cousins, Poyet, Ajdarevic (Hughes 90), Jackson, Harriott, Church (Ghoochannejhad 85). Not used: Thuram, Green, Sordell, Nego. Booked: Wood.

Referee: Mark Clattenburg. Att: 24,607.

Charlton 1 (Jackson 90) QPR 0.

Kevin Nolan reports from The Valley.

The arrival of cash-heavy QPR at The Valley pinpointed the lopsided struggle Chris Powell has been waging to keep Charlton in the Championship. And this magnificent, emotion-charged victory over the West London plutocrats neatly highlighted the resourceful fist he’s making of defying overwhelming financial odds.

His opposite number, Harry Redknapp, was able to choose a side from what Powell ruefully called “an embarrassment of riches.” The absence of prolific Charlie Austin was covered by the recent acquisition of Irish international Kevin Doyle, while suspended (I know, I could hardly believe it myself) Joey Barton was replaced by the even more recently acquired Ravel Morrison in a seamless jerk-for-jerk adjustment to R’s midfield. In response, Powell cheerfully admitted that his squad had been “cobbled together” from what was available to him.

After being thoroughly outwitted by his less-trumpeted rival, Redknapp was in typically disingenuous mood. “I thought Ravel was excellent on an impossible pitch. He was head and shoulders above everyone else on the field.”

To what my Mum would have dismissed as “blatherskiting” by an “eejit”, the only polite answer is “Cobblers!” The pitch, though bald and unattractive, was perfectly playable, while Morrison, despite seeing a lot of the ball, did little with it and, if his shooting was any guide, appeared to have his boots on the wrong feet. If he was “head and shoulders” above Charlton’s academy kids, Diego Poyet and Jordan Cousins, then the Pope really is still Polish. Unless, of course, Redknapp meant Michael Morrison, who was superb at the heart of the home defence.

The outstanding contributions of Poyet and Cousins were a reproof to Redknapp’s cheque-book version of management. Developed within the club and both still teenagers, they have stepped up from Sparrows Lane to warm the cockles of Powell’s heart. Mind you, it helps that during their development, they are under the experienced wing of their marvellous captain Johnnie Jackson.

As the Addicks have endured one frustration after another during this awkward season, Jackson has been scapegoated by a school of scholarly tacticians, many of whom don’t even attend games. He’s too slow, they say, his legs have gone, he only plays because he’s Powell’s favourite. To which, again, cobblers, cobblers and not-so-cobblers because the third point is conceded. Of course he’s Powell’s bloody favourite. Why the hell wouldn’t he be!?

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Alongside a mixed bag of youngsters and new arrivals, Jackson was immense against Rangers. Tackling, blocking, encouraging, giving every inch and ounce of effort, he was everywhere at once. And, oh yeah, scoring, to which we’ll happily return later.

In reply to Charlton’s snapping, hustling urgency, the elegant West Londoners passed, trotted, passed again, broke occasionally into a gentle canter, then passed yet again. A shot at goal seemed the last thing on their minds. They didn’t actually manage one on target, though Morrison screwed a couple horribly wide and Yohann Thuram had to improvise nobly after presenting Dorian Dervite’s ill-advised backpass to substitute Modibo Maiga. The Addicks were far more purposeful in the shooting department.

Cousins made that point in the early going. Set up by Danny Green’s short lay-off, he drilled a low 25-yard piledriver against the right post; wrongfooted by the rebound, Reza Ghoochannejhad prodded against the opposite post as Robert Green floundered helplessly. Much later, the Addicks’ willingness to have a go paid handsome dividends.

Having replaced the ineffectual Green midway through the second period, Astrit Ajdarevic made an immediate impact with his nimble feet and ability to pick the right pass. He can shoot, too, as he demonstrated with a curling drive which was bound for the top right corner until Green’s full-length intervention at the expense of a right wing corner.

Shaking off his obvious disappointment, Ajdarevic took over corner-taking duties from Jackson in a ploy probably devised in training to free the skipper for other things. His wickedly delivered inswinger was met beyond the far post by Jackson, whose prodigious leap above Aaron Hughes was crowned by a firm downward header which cannoned off a defensive, goalline leg to find the roof of the net.

To state that the last gasp goal caused pandemonium would be to distort reality. The previously fretful Valley erupted in delirium; press box neutrality took an overdue break; Jackson and his overjoyed colleagues joined the Lower North in behaving badly; reason and reserve fled for cover. This was far more than a winning goal, this was a corner hopefully turned, temporary relief at least from all the setbacks steadily inflicted by this arduous campaign. And wouldn’t you know it was Charlton’s intrepid captain who delivered the goods? In added time too, which speaks highly of those supposedly knackered legs. Jackson dropped! Powell out! Only way to go, really.

Charlton: Thuram, Wilson, Morrison, Dervite, Wiggins, Green (Ajdarevic 64), Cousins, Poyet, Jackson, Church (Harriott 89), Ghoochannejhad (Tudgay 64). Not used: Hamer, Sordell, Wood, Fox. Booked: Jackson.

QPR: Green, Hughes, Dunne, Hill, Traore, Hoilett (Keane 54), Carroll (Benayoun 81), Jenas, Morrison, Onuoha, Doyle (Maiga 69). Not used: Murphy, Suk-Young, Henry, O’Neil.

Referee: Carl Ilderton. Att: 17,333 (3,267 visiting).

Charlton 0 Birmingham City 2 (Macheda 22,79).

Kevin Nolan reports from The Valley.

The table is a stickler for truth and with two thirds of the season gone, Charlton are where they belong – third from bottom of the Championship. The mutual ineptitude of their three closest rivals offers hope but you can rely on the kindness of strangers only so long. Eventually you sink or swim on your own merits.

An unfamiliar line-up, featuring only four starters from the side which beat Birmingham City at St. Andrews on November 2nd, fought earnestly to complete a league double over the Blues. As usual lately, they fell short with a goal in each half enough to settle their hash. Still they remain within touching distance of safety. Thanks to low standards, the issue is far from resolved yet.

Whatever the outcome of Charlton’s fight to stay in the Championship, the wisdom of disconnecting the main components of an admittedly misfiring team and re-calibrating them with untested parts comes into question. Our new guvnors might well know what they’re about but it seems to the less business-savvy of us that spreadsheets, rather than team sheets, dictate policy these days. Surely Chris Powell’s need was for reinforcements, not replacements, as he juggled injuries and suspensions alongside a poorly stocked squad That’s probably an unpopular point of view in the board room but I’ve never actually been inside one and I’ll take my chances.

Not that blame for this latest discouraging setback is directed at the three new arrivals making their Valley debuts. Far from it. Up front, Reza Ghoochannejhad was a lively, mobile handful for the visiting defenders, has a goal in him and can be forgiven for his risible attempt to con a penalty from unimpressed referee Adcock; at the tip of the Addicks’ new-fangled midfield diamond, Astrit Ajdarevic improved on a quiet first half, coming into his own with a repertoire of tricks and flicks; goalkeeper Yohann Thuram was horribly exposed for both City goals but contributed several important saves and, despite some faulty kicking, is beginning to settle down to the job. They’re the future but trouble is the future looks bleak. And getting bleaker all the time.

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It’s possible to build an argument that Charlton were unlucky to lose this game but just as easy to demolish it. They dictated much of the action, played pleasingly at times, with young Diego Poyet outstanding, but were again undone by their failure to improve on a miserable record of just 23 goals in 28 league games. With depressing statistics like those, you’re doomed to struggle.

Gamely coming to terms with their stodgy but playable pitch, the Addicks carved out one or two early chances, the best of them falling to Ajdarevic, who headed tamely at Darren Randolph after Richard Wood nodded Lawrie Wilson’s free kick back from the far post. Ajdarevic had also lobbed Wilson’s through pass over the bar when promisingly placed. In reply, Lee Novak drove into the sidenet and Federico Macheda sidefooted Paul Caddis’ low cross narrowly wide. With dreary predictability, it was the visitors who broke the deadlock after 22 minutes.
A borderline foul by Wood on lanky midfielder Tom Adeyemi gave left-footed Manchester City loanee Emyr Huws the perfect opportunity to whip in a wickedly dipping free kick from the right touchline. The most delicate of glances from Macheda’s head in a congested box re-directed the ball beyond a frozen Thuram and into the left corner. A familiar gloom settled over The Valley and was destined to stay there despite occasional shafts of light.

Charlton’s embattled keeper promptly rescued his side with an alert one-on-one save after right winger Chris Burke, not for the first time, outwitted Cedric Evina before Jordan Cousins missed his side’s best chance before the interval.

Set up by Reza’s clever touch and Ajdarevic’s thoughtful pass, the youngster shot unconvincingly against Randolph’s legs. The ex-Charlton keeper also reacted smartly to save Ajdarevic’s acrobatic volley from Johnnie Jackson’s sweeping delivery, then clawed Jackson’s snapshot to safety. With the Addicks on top, a diving Reza was straining inches away from converting Cousins’ fiercely driven, head-high cross.

There was no relief from frustration after the break as Reza’s michievously deflected shot tested Randolph’s reflexes, Michael Morrison curled wide and Marvin Sordell’s long range effort brought Randolph tumbling to his left to save, Another excellent block from Thuram kept his side in the contest as Evina’s error allowed Burke in again but the Addicks were effectively finished off with ten minutes remaining.
Contemptuously brushing aside substitute Danny Green’s wafer-thin challenge in the centre circle, Adeyemi ran purposefully at Charlton’s wavering defence, before picking the precise moment to release Macheda into space to his left. From point blank range, the perennial Manchester United loanee, seen earlier this season in Doncaster Rovers’ colours and still only 22, made easy work of beating Thuram. And that’s all she wrote.

Winners only five times in twenty eight league games, Charlton should by rights be marooned at the foot of the table.Surprisingly though, their plight, while desperate, is not hopeless yet. They can’t rely on handouts from rivals much longer, of course, before it runs out. Self reliance, that’s what it’s all about -good old get-up-and-go gumption as practised by our betters in Chipping Campden. See me, I’m all for it, me.

Charlton: Thuram, Wilson, Morrison, Wood, Evina, Cousins, Poyet (Parzyszek 87), Jackson (Green 73), Ajdarevic, Sordeel (Church 73), Ghoochannejhad. Not used: Phillips, Hughes, Nego, Lennon. Booked: Morrison, Ghoochannejhad.

Birmingham: Randolph, Caddis, Martin, Packwood, Robinson, Burke, Lee, Adeyemi, Huws, Novak, Macheda (Lovenkrands 87). Not used: Doyle, Howard, Shinnie, Brown, Rusnak, Blackett. Booked: Huws, Macheda, Robinson.

Referee: J. Adcock. Att: 15,878 (2001 visiting).

Wigan Athletic 2 (Fortune 88, Gomez 90) Charlton 1 (Sordell 3).

Kevin Nolan reports from the DW Stadium.

Unique among the transfer window deals cut by new owner Roland Duchatelet was his ruthless replacement of Ben Alnwick by Standard Liege’s surplus-to-requirements goalkeeper Yohann Thurma-Ulien. It might also become the one he comes to bitterly regret, assuming, of course, that he dreads relegation as much as the rest of us.

The Alnwick-Thuram-Ulien dispute drove an inevitable wedge between Duchatelet and his neatly shafted manager Chris Powell. Goalkeeping was obviously the least of Charlton’s problems, as evidenced by their impressive goals-against column and the recent inclusion of the nervous newcomer at Middlesbrough was a huge surprise explained, to sceptical guffaws, by the enforced absences of Alnwick and deputy Ben Hamer due to illness and injury respectively. As usual, the fans were treated on a need-to-know basis. In other words, they were impolitely ignored. As was Powell apparently.

It hardly strengthened Duchatelet’s hand that Thuram-Ulien’s early blunder at the Riverside Stadium, despite several fine saves later on, cost the Addicks a worthy point. But the football-innocent owner, advised possibly by an all-knowing eminence grise, was merely biding his time.

Solid, dependable Alnwick was duly re-instated for the cup ties at Oxford and Huddersfield, where he kept clean sheets before the three personally blameless goals he conceded during a lamentable team performance at Doncaster became his swan song. With unceremonious haste, he was bundled off to Leyton Orient, leaving Thuram-Ulien, in Hamer’s continuing absence, No. 1 goalkeeper by default. Powell had won one or two battles but it was Duchatelet who won this particular war.

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Thuram-Ulien’s contribution in this most heartbreaking of defeats, was a bizarre combination of instinct and folly. It included another of his colourfully trademarked saves with his feet and featured again a curious aversion to catching high balls. Patting, palming, occasionally punching weakly clear, his lack of penalty area authority spread confusion and panic among a defence heroically striving to protect the 3rd minute lead given them by Marvin Sordell. There’s nothing a beleaguered rearguard appreciates more than a keeper who bosses them about while dominating his area. It offers them welcome respite, breeds confidence and mutual respect. You can be certain about this much in the short term. The word will quickly out that Charlton’s goalkeeper has an almost religious aversion to fielding crosses, preferring to try his luck by alternative, unorthodox methods. Against Birmingham City next weekend, for instance, expect him to have plenty of company under corners, free kicks and crosses. Should be interesting but more than likely costly, unless his colleagues are especially alive to the scraps he leaves.

Sordell’s excellently taken opener, meanwhile, gave the visitors heart as well as something to defend. It’s been a desperately disappointing season for the 2012 Olympian but clearly his manager believes in his potential. Sordell repaid that trust somewhat by running purposefully on to Johnnie Jackson’s lancing through pass, then composed himself before slotting calmly past the advancing Ali Al Habsi.

Confidence duly flooded through Powell’s unfamiliar team, featuring as it did three starting debutants and when 19 year Harry Lennon arrived to replace injury victim Rhoys Wiggins, a third Academy graduate to join the impressive Diego Poyet and constantly evolving Jordan Cousins. It’s becoming a new-look Charlton and none the worse for it.

Though the Latics dominated possession, the Addicks had their moments. Slimline forward Reza Ghoochannejhad (that’ll be Reza, then) started brightly and before understandably tiring, showed an encouraging willingness to shoot. One uninhibited drive tested Al Habsi, a better one clipped the bar. Emerging right back Loic Nego struggled early on but improved: Astrit Ajdarevic showed again that he’s an elegant craftsman with more to offer. There’s hope for the future. Trouble is the future’s right now and it’s bleak.

The second half of this ultimately disastrous game turned into an almost non-stop siege of Charlton’s goal, during which Thuram-Ulien cut a chaotic, sometimes awkwardly effective, figure. His reward was ironic applause from the away end for a solitary catch but to paraphrase the French observer of the Charge of the Light Brigade, his madcap antics were magnificent but not goalkeeping. Not as we know it, anyway, and eventually his wildness wore Charlton down.

Having survived goalmouth scramble after scramble, the Addicks were glimpsing the finishing line when the roof fell in on them. As they began to weaken, a smart pass from substitute Josh McEachran gave fellow sub Marc-Antoine Fortune room to sidefoot a neat finish past Thuram-Ulien.

The disappointment was heartfelt but worse was to follow. From a free kick wearily conceded by Michael Morrison to the left of goal, third substitute Jordi Gomez squeezed a not altogether convincing winner between Thuram-Ulien and his near post.

It was easy to be angry about the late surrender of even a vital point but this was wonderful, if unrewarded backs-to-the wall defiance, which has a perverse beauty of its own. It deserved better but that’s football. It knows exactly where to kick you and delights in doing so. Wonder how Ben Hamer’s recovery progressing? Or if there’s any point in even wondering about it?

Wigan: Al Habsi, Perch, Boyce, Barnett, Beausejour, McArthur (Gomez 74), Watson, Mcmanaman, McCann (McEachran 57), McLean, Maynard (Fortune 57). Not used: Nicholls, Crainey, Espinoza, Browning. Booked: Beausejour, McEachran.

Charlton: Thuram-Ulien, Nego, Morrison, Wood, Wiggins (Lennon 8), Poyet, Cousins, Jackson, Ajdarevic (Dervite 82), Sordell (Pritchard 73), Ghoochannejhad. Not used: Phillips, Hughes, Green, Church. Booked: Lennon.

Referee: Michael Bull. Att: 14,321 (729 visiting).

Doncaster Rovers 3 (Meite 26, Brown 36 pen, Duffy 67) Charlton 0.

Kevin Nolan reports from the Keepmoat Stadium.

As damp squibs go, this so-called six-pointer took the biscuit if metaphors can be mixed at the start of this report. You would safely assume that a clash between sides respectively placed 21st and 22nd in the Championship would be a blood-and-guts knockdown brawl with no quarter asked or given. Most of time, you’d be right. But not on this occasion. You’ll come across more aggression in a dove sanctuary.

With a gritty Cup victory over Huddersfield up the road still fresh in the memory bank, Charlton were confidently expected to tackle this vital game in great heart. Instead they obediently rolled over and allowed Paul Dickov’s spirited side to patronise them from whistle to whistle. As the second half wore on, Rovers passed the ball metronomically between them to cock-a-hoop cries of “Ole!” from their jubilant fans. Their victims seemed neither humiliated nor irritated by the experience. On the contrary, their attitude was one of weary resignation, if not acceptance, of their fate.

There’s something ominously dispiriting going on behind the scenes at The Valley, or so it seems to your ear-to-the-ground reporter. Rumours are cheerfully bandied about, none of them encouraging. With two days left in the transfer window, the scuttlebutt is of outgoing rather than incoming players. The question mark hanging over Yann Kermorgant seems a good place to start.

Since nobody tells us anything, we’re at liberty to call the moody Frenchman’s body language as we see it. And without pre-judging the outcome before Friday, this was a bloke going through the motions with his suitcase already packed for the seaside. He didn’t fall out with a single opponent, nor did he squeeze in even one moan at the referee. At one point, he shook hands after being unceremoniously decked by James Husband. All very civilised but you wouldn’t have seen any of that a few weeks ago. And the prolonged wave he gave to his fans at the end had rather more “Adieu” than “Au Revoir” about it. Sue me if I’m wrong.

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Anyway, sorry about that, now I’m spreading disheartening rumours of my own. You can’t help wondering, though, if our new owners have arrived to dismantle rather than improve the current team. The curious decision to allow Michael Smith to leave, for instance, smacked of hard-nosed business rather than long term vision. The big Geordie has scored three times in two games for Swindon and may, next season, be operating a division above Charlton. He was worth a look. And the arm which Chris Powell draped around Dale Stephens after substituting him a quarter hour from the end seemed one of parting sorrow. The beleaguered manager needs an arm round his own shoulder (you up for that, Roland?) rather than the dog’s abuse he’s coming in for from certain quarters. Debate his decisions by all means but keep it decent. This is one of ours who deserves better. And more than one of us demands it for him.
As for the game itself, that was over and done with as soon as Donny decided that nearly a half hour of softening-up was enough and polished off their helpless victims with two goals within ten minutes of each other.

The opener was a scrambled egg of a goal, not that Rovers much cared about its quality. After Johnnie Jackson performed heroically to scrape Bongani Khumalo’s header off the line at the expense of a right wing corner, the immediate danger seemed ended. Not a bit of it as Mark Duffy worked a quickly taken flagkick, before rapping a close range effort against Ben Alnwick’s legs. The rebound cannoned off Abdoulaye Meite inside the near post and this one-sided match was already effectively over.

Ten minutes later, the formalities were all but completed. Richie Wellens’ piercing pass into Billy Sharp’s feet allowed the returning local hero to turn for goal inside the penalty area before being chopped down by Lawrie Wilson. A red card for Wilson and a spotkick were equally inevitable; Chris Brown calmly found the bottom right corner from 12 yards.

Resuming with ten men, the Addicks were facing a morale-destroying hiding but Rovers chose to coast and spared them. Midway through a routine second half, though, the excellent Duffy split a tiring defence to beat a blameless Alnwick from distance.

As time slipped away, Sharp had a chance to claim the goal his inspiring contribution merited but after rounding Alnwick, inexplicably failed to find the target. No matter – his effect on Rovers is galvanic and his goals might well keep them up. Wellens also might have been suitably rewarded for his captain’s example but unluckily hit the bar from 40 yards. Somewhere during the dismal proceedings, Jackson shot over the bar and Simon Church did likewise but they were hardly moments to cherish and you are free to disregard them.

We journey on, meanwhile, to Wigan where hopes are high but expectations are correspondingly low. You never know with Charlton, of course, so don’t rule them out. But something has to change and quickly. Help me, Roland, help help me, Roland….

Doncaster: Turnbull, Tamas (Quinn 77), Khumalo, Meite, Husband, Coppinger, Keegan, Wellens, Duffy, Brown (Peterson 89), Sharp (Cotterill 77). Not used: Furman, Maxted, De Val, Stevens.

Charlton: Alnwick, Evina (Wood 46), Morrison, Dervite, Lennon, Wilson, Cousins, Stephens (Ajdarevic 79), Jackson, Church (Harriott 76), Kermorgant. Not used: Thuram-Ulien, Green, Sordell, Pigott. Booked: Stephens. Sent off: Wilson.

Referee:Paul Tierney. Att: 7289 (448 visiting).