Review of the Charlton game last year - Interesting perspective...

And completely clich?-free - honest!

You've watched the Changing of the Guard, toured the British Museum, sipped tea and shopped at Harrods. Are you ready for some football?

GO WHERE THE REAL BRITS GO -- CHEER THE LOCAL HEROES AT ONE OF LONDON'S PROFESSIONAL SOCCER MATCHES

By Michael Martinez

Mercury News

LONDON - There was a cool crispness in the morning air, the kind of autumn day made for football. As we ambled down the street toward the stadium, my wife and I couldn't help but feel swept up in big-game excitement.

All around us, fans were bundled up in the home team's colors. Vendors hawked T-shirts and caps at souvenir stands. Sausages and hamburgers sizzled on outdoor grills.

It felt like a college football Saturday in the Midwest -- Notre Dame perhaps, or Ohio State. With one difference.

The football was round.

This was a long way to come just to watch soccer -- or football, as the rest of the world knows it -- but it had been on our itinerary for some time. And we had already made all the requisite stops on previous visits to London -- Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Big Ben, Harrods. More than once.

This time, we wanted to try something less touristy.

To the soccer-loving English, football stadiums are like shrines -- places they can visit on weekends to cheer or jeer their heroes during the August-to-May season. And even if their teams don't win, they can still commiserate on game days at sold-out stadiums, or at the neighborhood pub afterward.

Granted, until our visit last year, we had never heard of Charlton Athletic, one of six London-based clubs that plays in the top-tier Premier League. But first-place (and eventual champion) Chelsea and powerful Arsenal -- our first choices -- were either sold out or on the road. Other popular teams such as Manchester United and Liverpool were a bit too far for us.

So Charlton, in the southeast section of the city, became ``our'' team. We purchased our tickets from home, faxing in our order for two seats in the upper northwest stand at 25 pounds each (about $44), and got ready for a quick three-day trip.

Getting to the game from our hotel was simple. We rode the Underground to the Charing Cross station, purchased train tickets for the National Rail and got off at Charlton, about 10 miles from central London. As soon as we stepped off the train, we knew we were in the right place.

Fans in red scarves and red Charlton jerseys, some carrying red team backpacks, made their way down the street. Supporters of the opposing side, Norwich City, wore yellow or green team jerseys; given their team's hopeless last-place standing, they blended in quietly.

Charlton's 27,000-seat stadium, known simply as the Valley, was not visible from where we stood. We asked directions from an older gentleman, accompanied by a teenager who appeared to be his grandson, who pointed the way.

``If you're a home supporter, turn left,'' he said. Then, eyeing us suspiciously, he added, ``If you're an away supporter, turn right.''

We assured him that we had come to root for Charlton, but we understood his advice. At every game, rowdy fan behavior is a concern. Visiting fans are always seated at one end of the stadium, and their section is secured by high fences and a visible police presence. At our game, we saw several police on horseback outside the stadium, and I counted more than two dozen officers in the Norwich City stands, all of them wearing high-visibility yellow vests.

We noticed other differences with U.S. arenas and ballparks. Getting into the stadium, for instance, involved entering a large, enclosed metal turnstile ``cage'' and handing your ticket to an employee, who scrutinized it before allowing you to enter. We figured this was to prevent groups of hooligans from hopping over conventional turnstiles and then scattering into the crowd.

And while beer is sold at soccer venues, you can't take it into the stands. So fans have to make a choice if they want to imbibe during matches: Enjoy a beer beneath the stands or watch the game empty-handed.

Not that they don't enjoy a cold one (a rarity in England). At halftime, I noticed several groups of male supporters sipping beers near the concession stands. I had gone to fetch my wife a cup of hot tea during the break (the plastic cup of hot water actually came with a tea bag inside), and after I handed it to her, she took a sip, looked at me and said, ``How civilized.''

It felt that way all afternoon. Charlton's fans were boisterous but respectful, and there wasn't a hint of a disturbance, either from the home team or visitors. We didn't hear the kind of cursing common at some U.S. sporting events, and there were plenty of parents with children around us who had no reason to feel uncomfortable or threatened.

There was also plenty of group chanting from both teams' supporters throughout the match -- we even joined in when we were able to pick out certain phrases (``Charlton till I die, I'm Charlton till I die!'') -- but when it became clear that Charlton would win the game easily, the disappointed Norwich crowd grew silent. With several minutes to play and their heroes hopelessly behind, many began heading for the exits.

``Look,'' I said to the young man sitting next to me, who told me that his devotion to Charlton had been passed down from his father. ``They're already leaving.''

He laughed derisively. ``Wouldn't you?'' he asked.

But for us, it ended almost too soon. A 4-0 Charlton victory was a welcome result, and we lingered outside the stadium along with many others, eating sausages, drinking sodas and looking for souvenirs to take home.

I bought a goalkeeper jersey, and my wife purchased a red-and-white ski cap in the team's colors. Like 49ers fans who can't leave the game without a memento, we had to have something to take home.

This was our team -- and still is.

Posted By: MSL, Oct 3, 16:03:44