June 18th: Turtles 3 (2) - Miramar Rangers 4 (1)
By Glenn Wilkinson

Friday 5:15pm

 Chris Lavis took a swig from his half full bottle of Amstel Light low calorie beer and put his feet up reminiscing about the week.  What a week.  He felt lucky.  A new recruit had started on Wednesday.  She called herself Vanda, a great stage name.  She tried to convince him that this was her real name, but Chris had been in the business too long to fall for that.  Probably come from a Marriage that needed more, and boy was she thirsty for more.  In all his 15 years of being the top dog in the Wellington porn industry, he had never encountered anything like her.  Was he in love?  He loves his wife.  End of Story … but … no buts, he loves his wife, oh and the Turtles.  He put down his bottle, no drinking the night before a big game.  A big game it is too, Miramar, the old foe, the team everybody wants to beat and beat up.  Chris patted his stomach and suddenly looked alarmed.  Was that half a millimetre of fat?  He suddenly felt guilt ridden, he should never have eaten that slice of Boston bun on Wednesday, what would his teammates think?  He thought he had burnt it off cycling to Palmerston North the next morning.  He knew he should have run back.  He was starting to get a little slack.

Wednesday started like any other, he was casing his joints transporting himself in his cover vehicle.  A Ricoh salesman.  Convincing.  The mumbling stumbling salesman look.  Brilliant.  Even his wife had no idea.  The phone calls late on a Friday night informing of Police raids or spats between his bitches that needed sorting, everyone needs a printer, no mater what time of night.  Dedicated and reliable, if somewhat a little confused was what he liked to be described as.  Perfect.  

Joint 4 – Messines Road, Karori, high-class servicing for high-class Karori residents, is what he called it.  He was doing the usual checks, Cash, linen cleaned, Pillows sorted.  He was discussing with Johnny The Claw, his trusted and most reliable lieutenant, about the doing over of a punter in room 4.  Wrapping him in barbed wire, while having Lilly kick him over was a little excessive for biting her bum.  There was also the blood to consider.  At least the Punter would never tell anyone.  He was a regular and they knew if Ange (what he referred to as his wife) found out about it, what he suffered last night would be a walk in the park.  He’ll just use the same old line about cutting himself looking for golf balls.  Then Vanda walked in.

“Hi there, can I please speak to the manger of this establishment?”  She asked shyly.   Chris liked her straight away, the way she held herself, the soft lips and rewarding smile.

“I’m sure you can talk to me and I’ll pass it onto the gaffer” was Chris’s reply, always conscious of protecting his identity.

“I know what this house is, what it does … well I want to be part of it, live it, breathe it, act out my fantasy’s in it …” 

“Take off your clothes” interrupted Chris.  “Johnny get Lilly down here, I want to see a show, to see if you’re worthy Vanda, worthy of a job here.”  Vanda did as she was told, her loins were aching for this.  She stripped naked, her arousal not open to question.  Her pert breasts aching for her to touch.  Lilly came down wearing only a towel, still wet from the shower.  Vanda went straight for her.  Lilly didn’t know what hit her, the passion, the touch.  Chris watching, thinking, longing …

Saturday dawned wet and windy.  A particularly dreary day, although excitement among Turtles at Miramar Park was evident.  The old foe, an unbeaten run not seen for many a year and most important of all, a new strip.  Chris looked around him, confidence oozed out of every member.  Mark even took it upon himself to don the number 10.  “Spratty who?” was his reply when told quietly that he had better wear another.  An omen perhaps?

Kick off and The Turtles took immediate control.  Passing nicely in very tricky muddy conditions and Miramar were looking worried.  The first goal came in somewhat bizarre circumstances.  A Miramar defender sent a beautiful cross in to Glenn W who completely miss-kicked it to Gary who calmly slotted home.  One nil after five minutes but totally in keeping with the run of play.   After twenty minutes the game should have been won.  Chances created and squandered.  Could this come back and haunt the Turts?  On cue, Miramar started to play some nice football.  The Turtles defence started sitting deeper and deeper, letting the opposition come at them.  Snouter produced some nice saves but inevitably they scored.  Some would say it was a lucky goal.  Snouter, doing his finest Seaman impressions said it was a deliberate chip and the best goal he had just about saved for a long time.  

With half time approaching Stevie H scored a goal.  The writer was unfortunately unsighted so I will rely on the version Stevie gave to anybody in particular who happened to sit in the next cubicle in the Brewers bar toilet at approximately 11:33pm. 

“The pass back wasn’t the best but I could see the goalie was a little off his line and if I shot first time and shot hard I knew I could score, so from 37.3 yards out I struck a first time tracer bullet into the top right hand goooooaaaaallll.   Ohhh yessssss.”

The switch around for half time produced a fine Turtles goal.  A miss kick by a defender let Wal down the sideline.  His cross was challenged by Zil, and challenged again with the help of Gordie who, while lying on his side, banged it home for a good goal. 3-1 and game over. 

The next half hour was what only could be described as woeful.  GT was uncharacteristically struggling,  Chris L had other things on his mind, in fact the whole team looked more misshapen than usual (After match comments in the lounge put this down to missing Simons man breasts).  Five minutes later Miramar scored through a tight angle from their big centre forward.   Too easy.     Dodge at this stage had been pretty quiet all day as far as abuse was going, Gordie put this down to the fact he was so deep no one could hear him.    With twenty minutes left Dodge produced a fine bit of skill to calmly head in a cross from down the left beating the goalie to the ball and two defenders on the line for a classic goal, unfortunately in the wrong net.   This incidentally was Dodges third own goal, of which “they were all not my fault”.   Within minutes came the 4^th for Miramar.  Dodge (tit) this time completely missing a header and letting their striker on goal, which was beautifully put away.  The Turtles tried to come back but to no avail, although Stevie H (man of the match) did produce another fine shot in the last seconds but hit the post from just outside the box.  The Turtles first loss of the season.

Chris Lavis was feeling terrible.  He had probably played his worst game all year.  At least he wasn’t alone there and he wasn’t even considered for TIT, Dodge was the only one put forward.   Chris looked at his phone, a text message from his wife.  “Fish and Chips?”  Chris suddenly felt a whole lot better.  Home is where the heart is.
 

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