Charlton 3 Cardiff 0

Well, on Saturday night we were back up to second in the table. Three consecutive wins following three consecutive defeats. It truly is a funny old game. Totally unpredictable. Except that for each of the last three wins we have scored our first goal (the only goal in the away games) deep into injury time or 'added time' as the media would now have us know it. In truth the game was more even than the score suggested. But we clearly edged it and deserved the win. It doesn't matter when the goals are scored, they all count.

So we start another 'international break' and I set off for Canada on Sunday afternoon. This provides the opportunity for reflection, and I'm sure others will reflect that life in The Championship is far more entertaining than in the Premier League. It obviously helps that we're at the top end of the league. But there are other changes. We can dispense with that silly handshaking stuff with the opposition that we were obliged to do before every game in the Prem. I'm not sure how that ever enhanced the game - or 'product' as the media would describe it.



But clearly money is tight in this league. It's great running out to Red Red Robin every game. But we've got no balls. For those of us that remember Keith Peacock leading the team out, playing keepy uppy - as it's now known - and blasting into an empty net, we miss the pre-match ritual of playing with our balls. On Saturday only the mascots got to play with a ball. Cardiff had no balls at all. In past seasons the warm up consisted of at least half a dozen balls for each side. But this season we're lucky to get one ball for each team. And the players look lost, meandering aimlessly around their half of the pitch. Occasionally they will burst into a short sprint, but most of the time they wander around and greet their team mates like long lost friends. Surely they were in the dressing room together for the team talk only a few minutes before?

But they hug each other or 'high-five' each other as they walk around the pitch.

And then curiously, just as the ref and his linesmen - or 'referees assistants' as they are now properly titled - prepares for kick off, we go into an intimate little huddle. Christ knows what they talk about for the ten seconds they are there together. I'm always worried the opposition will kick off while we're still fannying about, take a long shot and score. Maybe while all the heads are together they are trying to work out what Pardew was on about in the dressing room. Or maybe they are just trying to find out who has the balls. Does anyone have any idea? Are they telling jokes? Whatever it is, it seems to have worked on Saturday.

But it is difficult to predict what will happen in this funny old game - or 'soccer' as the Yanks would have us know it. The bookies know how unpredictable it is. That's why they set silly odds for some bets. Sodje was 33-1 to score the first goal against Cardiff. I know 'cos I had a tenner on him.

Funny old game betting.

Up The Addicks!

Robin