June 13th: Turtles 0 (0) - Lower Hutt 2 (2)
The World Cup is upon us once more! Four long
weeks of late nights, grumpy employers and the odd bit of domestic violence. The most
popular game on Earth (than American Football, even) is about to razzle and dazzle us once
more. Most of the Turtles are in stable relationships of course (sorry girls), but what if
this viewing feast was to result in the break-up of the odd relationship - would it have
been worth it? Depends on the quality of the games, I suppose. And so far it has been
GREAT. Strap yourself into those armchairs boys and enjoy the ride. Say goodbye to those
hard earned brownie points. Say hello to three hundred more Elaine Page commercials. Who
listens to that shit anyway? Not the Turtles, I hope. CJ maybe, but he left the team
decades ago. If footballers are the ideal target market for that music, God help soccer in
this country. Send an email to Don if you like that old tart, with reasons why. She may
make a good patron. Personally, I'm hanging out for the naked Spice Girls (or is that Spic
Girls?) commercial. But that's just my opinion.
Watching all this football tends to make the average viewer more analytical. Why are these
players better than us? Surely it can't be the skill or fitness factor. Then suddenly it
occurred to me: the pitches are just superb. We play on paddocks. Just imagine if the
Turtles played on bowling greens like that. With a little upskilling (nice corporate
buzzword) and maybe some rightsizing (whoops, did it again), we too could play in front of
40,000 groupies. Oh well, back to reality. The Turtles have entered into the true
capitalist spirit by running a sweepstake on the event. Dodger, man of vitriolic pen, was
charged with the responsibility of organising it. Never one to do things half-cocked,
Dodger definitely chose the full-cock option here. He wrote a programme so complex that
the computer response time around his company noticeably slows whenever it runs. He sent
enough email to crash half of the mail servers in Wellington alone. Anyway, after spending
three hours reading Dodger's instructions, Turtles and friends fired in their entries.
Many things soon became apparent:
- Bernie's chances plummeted after selecting Ireland to win it all;
- Those who picked lots of draws are probably in good shape; and
- Dodger is a dickhead.
The game on Saturday could be summed up as one big what-if. What-if Lower Hutt would just
bugger off to another grade and leave us alone? The injury depleted Turtles congregated at
Ben Burn and quickly realised this was going to be tough. Simon G was our youngest player
by thirteen years. Yikes! Our semi youths (Big Si, Nicko, Naz) were either unavailable or
injured. And we were playing a side that thumped us 7-3 in the first round. The game's
pattern was established early. Lower Hutt wins ball, Lower Hutt attacks, Lower Hutt
shoots. Turtles win ball, Turtles kick ball over touchline as far as possible. Turtles
rest. And so on.
It was another gutsy effort from us, and the defending was superb on occasions. Snout (eventual MOM) had a blinder in goal. Spratty and Simon G were making the most of limited opportunities, but for the most part it was one way traffic. They scored after 25 minutes and again minutes later from a volley. We rode it out to halftime. Rat II Hambleton exhorted the team to greater heights during the break. This non playing specialist rang the changes (none) and rearranged the positions (not) in an effort to improve our performance. Perhaps impending exams were playing on his mind. He is too busy to write the match report these days, although Dodger could teach him a thing or two about making better use of those pesky work hours. Speaking of Dodger, the abusemeister had a relatively quiet game verbally until giving Davey J (reffing) a salvo over a missed offside call. When told to watch the swearing, his response was "Fuck off". Tut, tut. Anyway, Dodger had to leave early for a croquet match. This forced a hasty reshuffle, and very soon we were all playing out of position.
The second half saw the Turtles unlucky not to score from several excellent chances. Simon G played an inch perfect pass to Spratty who forced a great save from their keeper. Davey J saw action for the first time this season and the social worker showed glimpses of his old self. Rat II took over the refereeing, and amazingly not one foul was committed for over 25 minutes. What a clean game. Eventually the skipper came on when Terry was assisted from the field after he began hallucinating that he was a football player. Apparently it was a double dose of Ventolin at half-time that did him in. Turtles management was furious. "Ventolin isn't even a banned substance!" fumed Grunt 'The Boss'. After a quick rummage in the first aid kit Grunter was able to locate some Stanolozol (courtesy of Claire). Terry was sent home with a prescription. Meanwhile Rat II almost created a goal out of nothing with a superb cross that no one could connect with. Despite lots of goalmouth action, the second half remained scoreless. Kudos to the back four (all eight of you). Snouter elicited gasps for some of his saves. He was wonderful (in a non sexual way of course). The Turtles came through two tough matches with dignity intact and look forward to the remainder of the season with some optimism (fade to national anthem...).