Turtles Match Report - 30 July 2005

Turtle Name	Goals For	Assists	MoMs	TiTs
Wilkinson, G	0	0	0	0
Tims, G	0	0	0	0
Nash, M	0	1	0	0
Law, S	0	0	0	0
Lavis, C	0	0	0	0
Langridge, S	0	0	0	0
Kyne, P	0	0	0	0
Kinsella, R	0	0	0	0
Holden, M	0	0	0	0
Hambleton, S	0	0	0	0
Davidson, G	1	0	0	1
Coppersmith, M	0	0	1	0
Calcott, G	0	0	0	0

At about the 20 minute mark in the first half, Chris made a solid tackle in midfield to take the ball off Sponge-Bob, and advanced forward a few paces before passing up to Nashy up on the left. Chris slid over after making the pass, and felt a sharp tear in his sinewy thigh as he went to ground in the mud. As Chris looked around for what had cut him, up ahead Nashy played an early, first time pass into the path of a rampaging Gordie……

There was nothing in his background to suggest that Eddie Groat would go off the rails. A normal childhood in Newtown led on to five years of boarding at St Pats College. Being buggered senseless by senior prefects was par for the course in those days for new boys. For most this was the first induction into the harsh realities of the outside world. In spite of, or maybe because of this harshness, they grew into fine young men with straight backs and healthy, if slightly peculiar, sexual habits.

Eddie came out of school and went straight into a clerking job in the civil service, working his way up through the ranks to attain the post of Assistant Senior Administrative Policy Adviser in the final few years before his retirement. His home life was comfortable. His mother came to share his small house in Mt Cook within a week of her fourth husband dying, and they co-existed without conflict, sharing common interests in reality TV and Greek pornography.

Eddie used his retirement years to grow his interest and involvement in community issues. The state of the storm water drains needed a champion, and Eddie wrote regular letters to the council on the matter. The colour scheme used on council buildings was another scandal that became a favourite crusade, and this naturally led Eddie on to the more serious matter of whether to use oil- or water-based paint.

In early 2005, Eddie put a small add in a local paper: “Worried about the way things are going in Wellington? Call me to talk and act…..”

Catrina Stringpiece was, to the casual observer, your common or garden suburban housewife. She kept the house that she shared with her husband Gareth immaculate, a responsibility she took seriously enough to insist Gareth had the snip to prevent children from cluttering up their spare room. After several years of marriage Catrina decided that the messy ejaculate involved in male-female connection was making a dreadful mess of her sheets. Gareth was invited to find satisfaction elsewhere when he felt the need, and Catrina embarked on an investigative study of female-female connectivity. Gareth’s secretary, a pizza delivery girl, a postie, an insurance assessor and Marnie from next door all saw plenty of action in Catrina’s bedroom, but she still wasn’t happy. When Catrina saw Eddie’s add in the local paper, she thought, yes, I am worried about the plight of the suburban housewife in Wellington.

Ryan Dobbs looked odd, and was. He would have been a perfect target for bullying by his classmates in the Upper Fifth at Wellington High School if it hadn’t been for the fact that they were all scared of him. “Nasher’ Nash had taunted him on day one back in Third Form, and found a cute little bunny rabbit in his locker on day two. Tied around the bunny’s neck were it’s own entrails, and tucked in to these was a blood-spattered note: “Please leave me alone”. Ryan’s stooped posture meant his black eyes generally focused on the ground in front of him, a situation preferred by everyone in the school. If anyone, teacher or student, mistakenly caught his attention and made eye contact, the shock of looking into those eyes, heavily shaded by a hirsute, protruding forehead, generally knocked them physically backward. Ryan was excused from games officially due to his club feet, but unofficially there had been enough complaints from parents in the first term to grant him a life-time exemption. Boys had been going home with horrific stories of brutal behaviour that left bones broken and flesh ripped – and that was only from tennis.

Ryan couldn’t read very well, but he liked the adds in the local paper. And he was worried about his future.

John Johnson was a sad and twisted individual. Once, many years ago, he’d really enjoyed his job as rolling stock co-ordinator for the railways. Putting all those engines and carriages in the right place at the right time suited his orderly nature. So what if there was the occasional cock-up and some poor trackman got impaled on a coupling spike – those guys new the dangers when they took on the job, and got paid accordingly. Mistakes were always covered

over in the inquiries. But now, with these bloody flash corporate types trying to run the rail business, it was all about trends and efficiencies. John was sick to the back teeth of all the complaints: “that shunter shouldn’t be over there”; “have you been drinking”; “don’t tell me to fuck off when I am just trying to sort out a problem”. Everyone is so bloody pompous, even the customers. Pricks. Damn right he was worried about the way things are going in Wellington.

After listening to the cancellations, Eddie Groat alerted his team by text message to the necessary change to their original plan. The four activists met up at Wellington Railway station at midday, and had a hearty lunch at Trackside Bar. They then caught the 1:30 train to Simla Crescent, and from that station it was a short walk to Nairnville Park. Once there, they went over to the middle of the number two soccer ground, and Catrina set up the video camera on the tripod. When the camera was running, Catrina joined the others in facing it several yards away, each of them now holding their rucksacks in front of them.

Eddie spoke. “We, The United Peoples Front of Southern North Aotearoa, bring you, the people of Aotearoa, this message from the scene of yet another outrage against our rights as rate and tax payers. Our bible is the by-laws of the Wellington City Council, and it is our belief that the liberties being taken with the letter and spirit of these by-laws can be ignored no longer. The playing of soccer on sports grounds around Wellington in wet and muddy conditions is an absolute disgrace. These sports grounds are being ruined for our children, and our children’s children. Furthermore, these games of so-called soccer are being played by old men, who should be at home on a Saturday afternoon tending their gardens. Our protest here today will be followed by similar actions on sports grounds throughout Wellington until this pointless waste of Council resources is stopped. Long live The United Peoples Front of Southern North Aotearoa. Thank you.”

With that, Eddie started a count-down and each of the activists put their hands in their rucksacks, ready to flick the switches on the bombs contained therein. 3-2-1-0. The blast obliterated all four activists, and blew the video camera and its tripod back into the trees behind the fence beside Nairnville number two, broken beyond repair.

About an hour later, Gordie ran on to the pass from Nashy and finished across the keeper into the far bottom corner. 1-0.

Back up field, Chris saw something white in the mud and picked it up. On closer inspection he realised it was the sharp edge of a shattered tooth, and he dropped it back in the mud in shock. He stared down at the mud where the tooth fragment had fallen, and the mud stared back at him by way of a single eyeball.

July 30th: Turtles 1 (1) - Brooklyn Northern United A 0 (0)