To Go, Or Not To Go...

 

To go, or not to go, that is the question,
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer yet another torturous day at The Valley Floyd Road,
The slings and arrows of protest incentivise,
To take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing the Regime, end them: to see them gone,

No more, and by the grace of God we end them,

The heart-ache over, and thousands of lost Addicks and all hope returns,

 

My apologies to Shakespeare for the above, but my rather poor attempt to rework his famous Soliloquy piece does seems to work quite well, for me at least!

 

I'm sat here in front of my laptop, mouse hovering over the cheapest ticket option I can find for Saturday's visit of Sheffield United, wondering if I can actually be arsed. I desperately long for a time I can look forward to going to Charlton again, but the truth is, nothing inside of me actually wants to go. I'm considering it only because it's ingrained in me to do so. Routine. Habit. Tradition. To be fair, the 'just put up with the shit and back the boys' mob won't miss my apathy, so perhaps I'm better off out of it. I don't want to spoil their 'matchday experience'!

 

But then again, I want to action my right to protest as well. Tricky predicament.

I face a 90 mile round trip on my tod, which under normal circumstances has never been a problem as I've often been grateful of the solitude. Nowadays the lonely journey feels like the a trip to the dentist, knowing at the end of the journey is a very painful procedure.

 

My mind tormented the whole journey with memories of brighter days...

 

I can't do behind the goal so my best option is £20 for a Lower West ticket in the block nearest the away fans, where I might at least expect a bit of an atmosphere. The Blades will come in numbers as they always do, whilst the numbers at The Valley continue to dwindle alarmingly.

I held the same seat for close to two decades, but I've become a nomadic supporter these days; drifting aimlessly...much like my club.

 

Nothing against Temporary Kev and his battle-weary charges. It was a brilliant result last night. It looks like Franchise FC's reject, Karl Robinson, will be named as our new manager today, which I'll admit is a welcome surprise. Not because I'm a fan of Robinson - I'm not particularly - but because I did think we would return to Uncle Rolly's Network model. Either way, a few decent results changes nothing. This has never been about results alone. This is about the unforgivable mismanagement of my club that has left it as embarrassing as it is shambolic. It's become hard to love and painfully easy to resent.

I'll have a coffee then decide. Might see you at The Valley, might not...