Football really is a horrible sport right now; a beautiful game ruined by greed undertaken by gangsters calling themselves agents.

It’s the way with uber-capitalism in any walk of life that where there is loose money or the opportunity of it, the vultures move in.

Chairmen come in with eyes loaded with pound signs courtesy of ludicrous TV money deals and gamble the history of football clubs in the knowledge that they can just disappear when the liquidators come knocking.

The money just disappears, the alleged £18 million to the agent of Paul Pogba being a fine example, and supporters along with rogue chairmen, fail to realise that not everyone can win.

The Championship where the dreams of future riches lay, is loaded up with foreign owners demanding promotion and a windfall return on comparatively modest investment. As a result, managers are sacked almost weekly as chairmen dream of a £100 million return on a £10 million investment.

Then it goes wrong with relationships between owners and fans deteriorating ( see Hull City) until eventually,  you witness Saturday night highlights with row upon row of empty seats.

At my team, Reading, they are slowly trying to rebuild trust with supporters after an industrial scale financial collapse caused by a desperate chairman gambling on selling out to a Russian fantasist, but for others, it appears that there is an irreversible decline.

This letter to a Charlton season ticket holder is an example of how grandiose expectation can turn ugly and shows the pitiful direction where football is heading when modest clubs turn bad.

How it got this bad at Charlton I just don’t know.