May 16th: Turtles 1 (1) - Wellington United 0 (0)
Phil, one eye on the game.
FTFC historians will know all too well what FA Cup day (and night) means to the lads.
Traditionally rivalled only by team trip as an excuse for heavy drinking and appalling behaviour by Spratty, there is one other important fact - the Turtles have never lost on FA Cup day. Being sticklers for tradition, we did of course win, and, as with many other Cup day wins in the past, this victory had it's fair share of tension and high drama. For many, the drama began as a battle to get through hordes of traffic to get to Newtown Park. As well as the Turtles match, Welly were playing the Daucklanders at The Park, so there were thousands of sports fans streaming into that part of town. Strangely enough, all but one fan (Trudy) chose the 'Canes ahead of the FTFC. Our media liaison officer (Bobby) has obviously been neglecting his duties, spending far too much time changing nappies.
Due to the traffic, most of us were late, and had to change hastily in a car park whilst the oppo, a bunch of Cambodians with a token Kiwi as captain (very colonial), did some impressively organised warm-ups. Our intelligence on these new-comers to Open A was that they were niggly and argumentative. Our fears were confirmed at toss-time, when their captain admitted that if things started to go against them then it could get ugly, which was nice and honest of him. As it turned out most of the game was just fine, but as the second half wore on, and they looked like being beaten, there were a few boots flying around, although nothing Don couldn't handle.
As soon as the game got under way, the pattern was set - they attacked hurriedly, we survived and cleared, and had numerous breaks up front which were fluffed. The surface was a bit bobbly, but the main problem was a swirly-job wind. Myself and Simon up front, supported by Nazim, had plenty of ball in space, but our shooting was poor, and nothing troubled their keeper, who was slightly eccentric looking and probably modelled himself on that lunatic from Columbia who did that back-kick at Wembley a few years back (videos available on request from Bob and Daves Dodgy Videos store, 22 Shit Street, Camberwell, London SE3).
Behind our front three, the heroic defence, which was to be the order of the day, was being carried out by everyone as the waves of attacks came at them. Darrin, returning briefly at left half before his next injury, and PK, drafted in to right half at short, fat notice, did masses of defensive work, helping out a sometimes over-run back four. Snouter pulled off some good saves, including an amazing leap to stop a fierce shot going into the top corner. Later on he was whizzing off his line, calling early and plucking high balls out of the air, and diving at attackers feet - we presume he had only had a small lunch.
During one of our sporadic attacks about half-way through the first half, we gained a corner. Being a narrow field, and having the wind behind me, I was able to pop into the middle, but everyone was so surprised by this that they let it continue on it's way. Darren finally retrieved it on the other side, and curled in a nice cross. Simon (G), being about a foot taller than most of the oppo, caused some mayhem when he challenged, it fell nicely for him, and he poked it in from about five yards.
After this little event, normal transmission was resumed. Fortunately for us, the oppo, for all their tricky stuff in approaching the box, had little idea about getting closer, and seldom troubled with their long shots. Dodge and Terry dealt efficiently with all the final passes or runs. Just before half-time, Stu came on to replace our broken down captain. The first pass to him showed that a lot of work is still needed on his knee, as he turned like an overloaded ship, and trotted slowly towards where a defender was dealing with it.
Half-time meant a change of ref, from the mouthy Gazza to one of their players, who may have been mouthy but not in our language, and certainly had no idea about soccer. After another 15 minutes of siege, Gazza went on, allowing PK to go to the rugby. It's about now that Terry normally collapses, but, despite several different classes of limp, he said he was fine.
Five minutes later he was of course writhing on the ground, and as we had no more subs, he was told to go and stand up front. Soon after Dodge announced that he had sprained an ankle, and also wandered off to die up front. In the ensuing chaos, it was amazing we didn't concede a goal, as Turtles wandered around in a confused manner, wondering who they were, and more importantly who is this and what is he doing in the back four. One of their forwards, noticing our disarray, thought it would be rude to take advantage, and chipped a golden opportunity over the bar. Nice people. Soon after, Simon scored at the other end, but the goal was disallowed. The official reason given was obstruction, but it seemed clear that a second goal would have ruined the game, and our new ref didn't think that was a very good idea.
For the last 15 minutes, the boys were completely knackered, but held it together. Terry decided to die for the cause, and after inflicting more damage to his crumbling body, crawled off with about five to go, and waited to be buried. Dodge announced that he had not in fact sprained an ankle, and returned to the fray. The oppo got panicky in the last minutes, and began shooting wildly, which was a relief. The final whistle was greeted with a deafening roar as thousands yelled their approval; at something happening over at The Park.
A quick change in the carpark again, and it was off to the Backbencher to commence drinking. I'm sure some of you would like to hear about what went on that night, and there is indeed plenty to tell, stories which would entertain, amuse and repulse. But, unfortunately, early last week Dodge suggested that I include all the lurid details of that night in this report. So, goodbye.