For many years, Charlton were regarded as one of British football's .
Despite their relatively modest size, they had became an established Premier League side with a , excellent and a sound balance sheet.
They finished the 2005-06 Premier League campaign in 13th place, just two years after a remarkable seventh-place finish had seen them narrowly miss out on Europe. In one sense the 2005-06 campaign had been business as usual with Alan Curbishley's side picking up enough points early on to ensure there would be no panic in the closing weeks of the season.
But three years later the Addicks are anchored to the and seemingly destined for League One.
It is a sorry tale, breathtaking in its speed and a salutary lesson in the realities of modern football: it takes a lot longer to build something than tear it down.
But just what has gone wrong at Charlton? And at the end of this blog I want to know what you think has happened at the south London club.
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Mums and dads, looking ever so slightly lost, line up with their sons in a queue that snakes all the way out of the door. There is more casual wear on display than a high-street sports shop, while the odd diamond stud catches the light and sets of headphones sit on heads gently nodding to the music.
But none of this can mask the over-riding emotion. You can feel it; you can see it on people's faces. There are so many tense and nervous expressions that it resembles a hastily convened crisis meeting at the Bank of England.
It is the sort of atmosphere that makes me think of lining up to receive exam results, an unwanted trip to the doctors or possibly a visit from the law - but it none of these.
No, this is something akin to the last-chance saloon for more than 100 boys who are determined to realise their dreams of playing professional football.
It is the .
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England's crushingly disappointing World Cup campaign in Australia must have been a chastening experience for coach Tony Smith, but if it has dampened his enthusiasm for rugby league then he certainly hides it well.
I spoke to him on the eve of the new Super League season - Smith had a busy day lined up but the Yorkshire snow emptied his diary - and the 42-year-old did so with an unmistakeable excitement about the months ahead.
Of course, Smith's perspective on the domestic year has changed dramatically since he gave up his role as coach of Leeds Rhinos at the end of the 2007 season to combine the role of England coach with that of the Rugby Football League's technical director.
There is not much point asking Smith who he thinks will because it really isn't for him to say. But raise some of the issues that are likely to dominate the season and what he has to say is fascinating.
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Reading boss Steve Coppell never really sounds particularly happy or upset about anything - and his emotional equilibrium was intact as he sat before the press following his team's on Saturday.
Not many smiles and nothing really resembling a frown, although he did become slightly animated as he laid into the concept of the transfer window and demonstrated a wit drier than a .
Asked whether he would go anywhere given his team now don't have a game until 21 February, Coppell replied: "."
I laughed, it was a cracking reply, but in all seriousness it probably isn't a bad time for the Royals to take some time off as they prepare for the big push for an instant return to the Premier League.
They might be but they haven't scored in four games (their victory over Wolves came courtesy of an own goal) and struggled to break down a Preston side that arrived at the Madejski Stadium on Saturday and promptly parked a bus in front of goal.
You've got to hand it to Reading, though, they are not making a bad fist of attempting to bounce straight back to the land of untold riches (or gluttony, depending on your perspective).
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There was no-one near him as the ball dropped out of the dazzling blue sky and Dean Windass demonstrated a technique many might have thought beyond him to make the cleanest of contacts.
The ball violently changed trajectory and flew into the net while he peeled away in celebration.
The fans seated around me inside Wembley stadium erupted, none more so than my wife, who may not be an expert on football but certainly knows enough to recognise a corker of a goal when she sees one.
As it turned out, the goal by Windass, 39 at the time and sporting bleached blond hair more suited to a boy band member than a senior pro, sealed a over Bristol City and fired Hull City into the top flight for the first time in the club's 104-year history.
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