April 4th: Turtles 1 (0) - North Wellington II 5 (4)
Spratty meditates on the 2nd half to come
Another season. My god. Why do we put ourselves through this torture?
El Nino can take the blame for our pre-season condition. Apparently there is a guy in Los Angeles who appears in the phone book as L Nino, and he gets lots of phone calls from distraught people saying "why are you doing all this?". This bastard can now be blamed for a remarkable increase in obesity and dodgy knees among the Turtles. A couple of practises and two warm-up games can hardly take the place of a strict regime of dieting and running over summer, but all the same, the Turtles who fronted up for this first game were fitter, and miraculously, younger than the tired old bunch of scrotes who finished the 1997 season with a wheeze rather than a bang. Yes, you guessed it, we had some new blood.
Most notably, Simon Garrett was becoming the first "second-generation" Turtle. His father, the grumpy but well-respected Malcolm, had been an integral part of the early Turtle days (played 19 games according to the player stats...ed), and started many a wayward youth on the way to a fruitful career with his famous advice to "keep your knee over the ball". Simon, at 19, drags down the average age of the team markedly. As does Andy "Pom" Smith. A spindly youth of indiscriminate hair colour, he has opened the eyes of many to the fact that not all Poms are complete prats (eg. Davey), or complete wankers (eg. Spratty). At the time of going to press he is still considering a free transfer to Western Suburbs, a club which may suit his employment status (unemployable) better.
To balance the age books, we had also picked up Paul Kyne, yet another fat, slow NZ Post employee who plays in the back four. PK has started the season encouragingly by turning up for the first game looking hassled with two kids out of control, the hallmark of a promising career, but made an appalling gaff later by not having adequate dosh to pay his fine, in fact paying with shrapnel (Boss was heard to grumble middle-range swear words to himself as he carted the day's take away in a wheelbarrow).
Oh yes, the game. Ben Burn, our spiritual home, was windswept, hard and bobbly, so a game of sweet passing and control from the Turtles was out of the question. Surprisingly, in 98% of the games we have played since July 3, 1986, there has been some excuse or other for us not playing a sweet and controlled passing game. Our opposition were North Wellington, a club renowned for over-aggressive thugs, and also a police team - need I say more. Playing with the strong wind, we were looking to be at least a couple of goals up at half-time. At 4-0 down our plans were somewhat awry.
The carnage really had it's roots back on Tuesday, when Snouter decided to accept an invitation from his wife to do something with her at lunchtime on a Saturday, a curious development from the normally reliable shot-stopper. In a desperate bid to fill his gargantuan shorts, the ever widening Stu was called in. Don't get me wrong, Stu was not to blame for any of the goals, but when you get thrashed you need a convenient scapegoat.
The first goal, in fact, was a classic piece of finishing by Bobby, who seldom sees the opposition goal-mouth these days, so compensated by getting one at our end. The second one was due to hesitancy by Stu, it must be said, and was finished clinically by, ok, here it comes, a girl. Look, she was bloody good, and has played for NZ, so stop that laughing. The third and fourth goals are not worth mentioning. First half highlights for us included Darren limping off with a strained tricep or something, Spratty catching a pass in the box, and Bobby kicking "the girl" about five feet in the air with an exquisitely mis-timed tackle. Our new youths realised early on the that if you wanted someone to do lots of running in the Turtles, you had to do it yourself, and Simon displayed encouraging naivety by doing lots of it.
Dramatic changes were needed at half-time, and you can't get more dramatic than Bobby donning the No. 1 jersey. Stu wandered off to the right wing for some light exercise coupled with witty banter. Incredibly, for the first time in his sporting career, he was silenced (for two minutes) when one of the cops told him to "get back to Jenny Craig". Despite that, the Turtles were starting to play better. Some nice passing was coming through the middle, and Simon L made some of his heroic surges from the back. Don went off and PK came on, with Nazim (a free signing from Terry's work) moving into the middle. The author of this report missed a shocker, preferring to wait for a defender rather than shooting from close range, but as the half progressed, we started to remember how to play, and pulled one back. After a bit of work on the left, Wal got the ball near the edge of the box. Ignoring Spratty's demands, he smashed it in. A miraculous comeback never looked likely though, and they got another one a bit later. After a cross from the right, two of the fascist bully boys looked off-side, but Davey, reffing in his pathetic hat, which makes him look like a garden centre manager, allowed the goal.
So, the first one ended. That L Nino has a lot to answer for, and will receive something nasty in the post if we don't start winning.
