For his latest journey into the shady world of nostalgia, Mr Smith goes to Charlton. Admittedly that doesn't sound as good as Mr Smith Goes To Washington (if you haven't seen the film and don't get the reference, shame on you), but when it comes to Grimsby Town, Washington is just a place we used to go by on the way to Newcastle in the good old days when we played "big" teams. Anyway, I digress. Here's the article...

I first came across Charlton Athletic in my third season as a Town fan. They had been a struggling Second Division side in 1979/80 when we won the Third Division title and so our paths didn’t cross in our first season at the higher level. However, Charlton came straight back up and we met them in 1981/2. I didn’t however. We lost 2-0 early on in that season in the liver respite that was called summer vacation. The return game at Blundell Park was in January and only our second home game in two months. This ended up as a 3-3 draw, which I missed as I was back at Uni in Colchester. I think we must have been losing at some point as I do remember bouncing up and down celebrating the scoreline in the main road by our house.

I worked during the summer of 1982 and saved plenty of money, which was earmarked for nights out and my odyssey of misery as a Town fan. I decided to join the Travel Club and do the away games from Grimsby before returning to academia. Fifth game up was Charlton away in a start to the season where we had drawn at home to Leeds in the first game and then won the next three.

Not for the first time, I was in a dishevelled state as I arrived for the pick-up due to overindulgence at The Barge. I’d been reading Salem’s Lot the previous evening and, having also seen the T.V. production, had spooked myself enough into trying to sleep with the bedroom light on. The journey down to London was to set a pattern whenever I went on a coach journey and ultimately led to my travelling independently. We would normally stop at Grantham on the A1 for a rest break where I would desperately struggle to strain the kidneys to no avail only to be dying for a slash about 10 miles down the road. It was therefore a somewhat distended Town fan that arrived at the Valley.(The next away game, Middlesbrough away, was worse. Having arrived before the ground opened, I had the choice of p*ssing myself or going into the nearby pub and doing so in fright, assuming I got past the front door).

I have a great deal of affection for this ground for a number of reasons. Because we didn’t come anywhere close to filling the away section, we were normally put in seats (at no extra cost-Macclesfield et al take note!). The stewards were friendly and there was also a bar serving away fans. Even better, it did bottled cider at a non crippling price and you could take the bottles and plastic glass (contradiction in terms) and put them under your seat and have a sup watching the game.

To your right you would see the biggest existing terrace in England, a throwback to when Charlton had a capacity of about 80,000. The ground had seen top flight football and one of the coppers there told me about how he was at the game when Charlton came from 5-1 down at home to beat Huddersfield 7-6.

Kilmore scored our winner, our good run continued and I stored the general ambience of the ground away for future reference. As I’ve said before, many of the grounds visited in the 1980s offered the threat of violence, but Charlton was never in that category. I was amazed a few years ago to see so many convicted after an ambush on Southampton supporters.

The home return was a 1-1 draw as Town ran out of steam and just stayed up. It was another game I missed as I was in Colchester and one way or another, I have managed to see only a few home games but have enjoyed (!) quite a bit of success on my travels.

I finally got to see a home game against Charlton early in the 1983/4 season and a 2-1 win to boot. I was living up in Grimsby now, unable to afford anywhere else to live having skinted myself at Uni. This was a great season to be back in the North and when we played down at the Valley, I had become a veteran of away games in London, helped by post student tax free earnings for some time. The plan was to get a train out of Grimsby Town at about half seven and then change at Newark for London.

I’d meet some friends getting on at Stevenage, including a Donny Rovers fan who has been a veteran of many Town games, and we would hit Kings Cross just before 11. It was then a short hop on the Northern Line to London Bridge where we would walk around the corner to the Market Porter pub. This, I understand, has now been yuppified a bit but back then sold a wide choice of beer, strong lagers and ciders. Paradise in other words. It also did good nosh so it was a regular stopping off point.

Just after 2pm, a group of heavily bloated fans would totter back to London Bridge for the local stopper to Charlton, from where the ground was a short walk. In scenarios familiar today, Charlton had just about gone bust but had been rescued at the last minute so our game against them was a celebration for the home fans as they had been facing a clubless future. This meant a larger crowd than usual but there were a good number of Town there as we were very much in the promotion chase despite losing our long unbeaten league run to Pompey the previous Saturday.

It looked as though we might be bridesmaids as Charlton took a 2-0 lead by half time but Town managed to pull it back to 2-2 with goals from Drinkell and Ford. Charlton then scored with two minutes to go to end our rendition of “Grimsby’s going up” to the tune of Karma Chameleon. However, the drama wasn’t over as Drinkell scored a minute later with a shot that seemed to me to pinball off every player in the box. Fantastic boogie and I managed not to kick my bottle over beneath the seat. I was also screaming with an incipient hangover as a change to routine meant that we had an extra guzzle in Villiers Street near Charing Cross. I had the misapprehension after this game that Fosters must be strong lager without thinking that it was the quantity rather than quality that might have contributed to this unsatisfactory state.

We were fairly happy with the draw and, to be fair, it had been a good game. Oddly enough, I can picture it quite clearly and it shouldn’t really come as a surprise that a game from 25 years sticks out in the mind more than some from recent seasons, despite a degree of inebriation.

One amazing thing for me is that I always managed to get up on Saturday mornings without the benefit of an alarm clock no matter what atrocities had been performed the night before. I don’t know whether to be chuffed at my resilience or concerned that after a lifetime of shift work, I’ll be one of those coughing, wheezing elderly folk that I’ve seen at sparrowfart, waiting for the paper shop to open because they’ve already been awake for two hours.

Another thing from this period is that we never seemed to be worried about getting home. It was perfectly easy to get a train back to London from Charlton to Charing Cross and get the direct train back to Grimsby from Kings Cross changing at the Barge for a good night out to finish off a good day. I was also into my last year or two of having a Young Persons Railcard, which meant I wasn’t tied to any particular service to avoid taking out a mortgage to buy a ticket.

The 1984/5 season dawned with optimism and we managed another 2-1 win at home. It was evident that our gates were continuing to decrease despite the quality of football on offer, but then, as now, Saturday was a social event. Home games were always enlivened by friends coming back up North for the odd game and I would return the compliment for many of the London matches. This season was noted for its inconsistency but with high scoring events. Unfortunately, we sometimes came off second best...

I’d been to Birmingham City on Boxing Day on the coach for what proved to be another leg crossing experience and a 2-1 defeat courtesy of a duff referee who disallowed one or two of our goals whilst allowing a blatant foul assisted City goal to stand. No wonder I’ve treasured some vile anti Brum songs I’ve picked up at Brentford over the years. I might put the lyrics down when censorship rules change.

The highlight of the day was buying cans of lager off some poor travellers on the coach, taking advantage of their inexperience with alcohol. I couldn’t persuade my co traveller to go in a home pub near the ground, which I have subsequently found would have been a very bad idea. Undeterred, three days later, we were due to play at Charlton, and courtesy of Salvoes’ two week Christmas layoff, I hadn’t spent the previous night finishing a late and then trying to break the Guinness Book of Records entry for speed drinking within licensing hours.

It was the usual half seven train on Saturday morning and a bigger than usual following at Stevenage. We had got to know a few lads who we regularly saw at southern away games, Hilton and Julian, and would let them know what we were up to. It turned out that they had no connection with Grimsby at all but had decided to follow a Second Division team and the luck of the pin was us. In case anyone is wondering, I saw Hilton with a couple of his kids at Lincoln a few years ago in what is a heart-warming example of keeping the faith.

The usual lunchtime session ensued. Town were 1-0 up at half time, but unfortunately, we let in four in the second half without reply. However I don’t recall it being particularly disheartening. By and large, we played to a high standard, were entertaining and still riding the high of gubbing Everton about six weeks earlier.

A good kip on the direct train back to Grimsby followed, with no fears as now, of waking up in Edinburgh or worse. An added bonus was that the conductor would only bang your head on the table three or four times in an effort to wake you up before throwing you back into the seat. Or so I’m told.

Just to highlight our inconsistencies, we beat form team Huddersfield 5-1 on New Years Day. Games on this day always seemed strange to me. For some reason, the pubs seemed to be empty as the part timers packed their carcasses off home for another year. Yes Mr Counsellor, I’m trying to work on this resentment, honest.

The next season was very low key given events at the end of 1984/5 and just over 4,000 fans saw a 2-2 draw at home. I missed the 2-0 defeat away, as I was trying and failing to save for a permanent relocation down south. I looked at a few programmes for this season a few months ago and it is staggering how quickly attendances dropped. It probably played a part in our demise as we hadn’t been doing too well on this front for some time. Charlton, unbelievably, despite getting poor crowds and being forced from the Valley and into becoming tenants at Selhurst Park, managed to get promotion and stay up for a few years. We went the other way.

Our paths didn’t cross until we found ourselves in Division 2 as was in 1991/2. I had been personally saddened by what had been mooted as Charlton’s last ever game at the Valley against Stoke. I hadn’t been there that many times and the ground had obviously seen better days. I had even seen us put to the sword there. However, I had a lot of time for their fans, the stewarding and the venue as a day out.

I never saw Charlton play at Selhurst Park and have to say I was glad about that. I think football has become a surreal experience at the best of times and it is surprising, looking back, that the game and many clubs survived this period.

When we played Charlton away in 1991/2, they were based at Upton Park which at least was a decent ground and accessible. We’d managed a home win earlier in the season, which I think I missed. I wasn’t missing many away though. We were struggling a bit this season after two successive promotions but were completely unprepared for how this game unfolded in front of  a good number of London Mariners.

We scored 3 in 4 minutes or so and won 3-1. The Charlton goalkeeper came in for a bit of stick with his shimmy attracting a drunken chorus of “You do the shake ‘n’ vac and get the freshness back” - thanks Big Jim, I’m not taking responsibility for that one.

I was belting out “Ole ole ole Pizza Hut Hut Hut” .I have no idea why, but it stuck for some time, which was bad news for fellow bus travellers when we passed fast food outlets. It was a midweek game as well and I’m afraid I took great pleasure in singing “You’re (ignoring the strong Labour showing in London) just a town full of Tories” at packed tube or commuter trains on such occasions. There’s nothing like playing up to a captive audience. Having said that, and given recent events in the financial world, they deserved all the ******* abuse they got then as they do now.

“Jack the Ripper is our friend, he kills cockneys,” was frequently wheeled out at London away games although to do so now would no doubt run the risk of indoctrination at a thought police camp. I’m actually looking back at that now and thinking “what were we like?” Notice “we”. Any bright ideas and I’ll take responsibility. Anything dubious and I was misled.

The 1992/3 season saw Charlton exact some revenge as we lost 3-1 on the opening day of the season, again at Upton Park, with just a token Mendonca goal for the travelling fans. This was a local game for Rob Moss, a Town fan of long standing, as he lived up the road in Forest Gate. Although we got well plastered in his local, I declined the kind offer of a curry that he had cooked for any interested London Mariners.

We won the return 1-0 and, unlike the previous season, I was taking advantage of half price rail tickets to get to most home games as well. I only bettered my personal tally of games from this season last year. Please don’t ask me why I’ve been going to more games recently; I might cry if I thought too much about it.

I eagerly awaited a trip back to the Valley in the 1993/4 season. On a summer day in 1993, Gary and I started off having a few drinks in Hounslow, where I was living, and then jumped on a train into London and thought we’d have a look at the Valley. We were able to see the pitch from outside the ground and it was really pleasing to see that the weed strewn dereliction had been transformed into a ground befitting the club.

There is a lesson to be learned from how Charlton fans got together to get the move back to their ground. Amongst other things, they stood candidates in Greenwich Council elections under the banner of “Back to the Valley” and, whilst they didn’t win any seats, they won enough votes to concentrate councillors’ minds for future elections. This ploy was also used by Brentford to gain support from Hounslow Council, although they went one better and actually won a seat.

Back to the game though and we took advantage, with a 1-0 win through a Mendonca goal to avenge a home defeat. We lost the fixture the following year but business as normal resumed for 1995/6 when Jewell scored the winner for Town. Strangely, it became the norm for us to win there but lose at home.

Before the 1995/6 game, we drank at The Founders on Bankside, a short walk from London Bridge. It is a pub I’d recommend to this day. A bit pricey as all Youngs pubs tend to be but a drink to suit everyone, great grub and a tremendous view of St Paul’s Cathedral and Blackfriars station. I personally just like watching the river traffic in the same way I find myself doing during particularly tedious home matches.

I’d decided to be a good boy and just drink bottled beer to halve my intake but a dozen or so Steinlagers later I was left with another plan that hadn’t come off. Unfortunately, at this point, I was unaware that I had incipient liver disease so my coordination went and I managed to fall on to the side of the pitch, only to be gently put back in the stand by a brother and a friendly steward. I’ve no doubt that at some grounds that would have been a prosecution and banning order.

I was a much more chastened fan the next season. We played away in November and there were a surprising number of Town supporters there considering it was a midweek game, we had won only a few games all season and were propping up the table. The streets around the Valley resounded with “Division 1 is upside down” in defiant humour.

I was determined to enjoy myself. In fact I was grateful to be alive having nearly died of complications around liver disease a few months earlier and now strictly on the wagon. If I remember rightly, we upset the formbook by going 2-0 up, then conceding and scoring soon after to seal the points. I remember vaulting over two rows of seats to boogie at the home support.

To make matters worse, I was wearing a white sweater. Have you noticed the high proportion of mouthy ******s who wear white at football games? It’s never who’s the w***** in the blue/green/red that gets chanted but white. I should know, I’ve sung it often enough. In another faux pas, and just to round things off, I was wearing shades to hide my eyes because the amount of medication I was on made me look permanently stoned. To be honest, I was!

I didn’t hang around after the game, eschewing the doubtful delights of the pub, and managed to get back to Feltham about an hour later. My better half had taped the local news with that night’s scores and, as luck would have it, they featured the goals from our game. To a commentary of “but Grimsby made the points safe with a third, much to the delight of their travelling support”, the camera showed a selection of us going berserk, with me quite obviously flaunting my delight (is that what its called?) at the home support. I kept that tape for a bit to cheer me up in what was a largely cheerless campaign, although we did do the double over Charlton.

Clive Mendonca had done a fantastic job in scoring 20 goals for a team that was relegated and he moved to Charlton at the end of the season. He scored the goals that won them promotion to the Premier League the next year as we came straight back up to Division 1. It was fantastic to see him score that hat trick against Sunderland in a 4-4 draw at Wembley in the play off final, a day after we had sealed our own rise.

I was however unimpressed by the commentator, prior to Clive’s penalty in the shoot out, stating that it would be awful for him to miss given his contribution so far. Just shut the **** up was my thought, even though that scenario had crossed my mind. I was pleased for Charlton given all that they had gone through, and for the memories. It was also good to see an ex Town player succeed at a higher level and that he is held in reverence by both sets of fans was evident in his reception before our league cup game a few years ago.

That is just about it for the ramblings of someone only three years away from the SAGA mailing list. It’s sad to see that Charlton are in financial trouble again and have been relegated and it would be worth getting promoted just to resume rivalries with them again. I can vaguely think of some of their fans whom I ought to buy a drink after gobbing off at them despite their hospitality in the Blundell Park Hotel after they beat us 5-2 at home. If you ever read this guys, sorry, I’m glad I stopped drinking if it made me like that at the end. You didn’t deserve it and good luck for the future.