Craven Cottage Newsround

What a nice night for a game. I got the usual bus up from Tooting, accompanied by two policemen who must have known something about something. They came upstairs and chatted together and seemed pretty relaxed. We reached Putney in no time, and I hauled myself down the stairs and over the road through the evening traffic.

There was a small swell of people crossing the bridge, a lot of couples and a lot of boisterous youngsters geeing themselves up for the game. There was a light mist on the Thames and the Cottage floodlights crept over the tallest of the Bishops Park trees, illuminating the river and lending atmosphere to an already exciting evening.

I love the conversations you pick up on the way to games, flitting in and out of others’ worlds:

“I’ve broken my collar-bone!” from a gent who had stopped to talk on his mobile.

“She’s so fit. No, not like that. It’s just the way she cuts my hair” from a lad in a group of friends.

“They’re new LED boards. Like at Man Utd!” from a young man with his girlfriend. “Wow!” she said.

“Lucas! Luke!” from some teenage lads to me.

Sadly, I was not the Luke they needed. After a refreshing tromp through the park I nipped through the crowded Stevenage Road melee and dived through the turnstyles. On to the stand, and after some row vaulting I was at my seat next to a friendly looking fellow in a Fulham hat.

The good thing about being near the front of the Johnny Haynes stand (K block) is the view you get players nearby. I watched Luke Young warming up, and until he turned around I was sure I was watching Matt Holland. They share postures and mannerisms, upright but relaxed, but with a presence. Fitting perhaps that both are or have been young captains. Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink stopped to sign a couple of programmes for kids leaning over into the tunnel, one of whom pointedly shouted “Hasselbaink!” at him. Nobody else took the time to sign for the kids, not that I blame them, they had a job to do and there’s a time and a place for all that. Liam Rosenior did stop for one lad after the game, which was cool of him after an indifferent performance.

The game was described in a previous post, but it was a weird atmosphere for the most part. Charlton were sporadically awful in the first half and yet ended up playing Fulham off the park for 20 minutes. I wondered how the crowd would react at half time, and sure enough there were some half-hearted boos from all-around the ground. Nothing too heavy, but enough to let the team know that it hadn’t been good enough. Ian Pearce, the lone star of that period, sprinted ahead of the traipsing group of players and into the changing rooms. I shouted at him in approval.

Later we all enjoyed that most beautiful of feelings, the game killing two quick goals burst. After that it was time to sit down, relax and take things in. Job done.