June 20th: Turtles 3 (1) - Petone Celtics 0 (0)
Steve and Bobby hold the goal up... while ex-Captain Zil dazzles the defence
The new look Karori No. 1, moved to the eastern side of the creek to allow the old No. 1 to have some drainage put in, looked an absolute picture. After a rather damp week, a glorious mid-winters day dawned, and the football pitches of Welly, up until now a bit on the hard side due to an unseasonably dry spell, were now in primo condition. Naturally then, being the early game, we were transferred off the new No. 1 on to the old No.1 - a rutted, sloping bog with enough grass on it to rival the Northland economy.
Not phased by this ignominy, the boys remained focused on what was a watershed game in Turtle history. Nine weeks ago the "old" Turtles had been thrashed by the Celtics, a loss that prompted wild gesticulation and mass debate, the subsequent verbal jism spawning the "new" Turtles. The media in the week leading up to this game had asked some pertinent questions - "Have the Turtles really improved that much ?", "Is Spratty ever going to score again ?", "Did you see the lungs on that barmaid?". But as with all great teams, the FTFC ignored the press, mainly because the weather was too shitty for a trip to the nearest newsagent.
The pre-match talk was all seriousness, any joviality being stopped by means of a short, sharp smack to the offenders bottom with a damp stick of celery, a technique I picked up from watching the World Cup. At least I think it was the World Cup; there were lots of middle-aged men being disciplined by a large woman in black shorts. This new cable TV can be very confusing. Spratty added to the talk by reminding us of how all the best players in the World Cup support each other, and take their time on the ball. This is the man who for the past 15 years has lived a delusion, that he is playing with the Brazilian team of 1970 and he is Pele. As always, we smiled sadly at Spratty, and got started.
The Celtics, with the advantage of the slope and a slight breeze, did most of the early attacking, and had the famous No. 4 shirt stretched a couple of times, as does it's wearer. Twice an oppo attacker got clear through. The first time Dodge recovered and made a heroic last minute tackle. The second time, Dodge was up on the right wing, telling Wal how to sell computers, and Weasel, skipper for the day, had to make the tackle. Our attacking was sporadic, not helped by the youth up there getting some woeful service. Simon G was not having a happy day, his Mum watching probably making it worse, but Nicko seemed happy to be playing, having spent the previous two days on the potty with food poisoning.
Snouter's goal had a close call after about twenty minutes, when a ball was deflected across the face of his goal. But such is the aura of the man, neither of the three attackers it dribbled past could bring themselves to insult him by tapping it in. After this, a crucial moment. One of their forwards, a Eurotrash thug, pulled a hammy, and with no subs, they were effectively down to ten. This spelt the end of their dominance, and we opened our account soon after. Terry, who was providing an excellent link as the ball was being played across the middle, found Steve wide on the right. Several Turtles approached the box, a situation that demanded a probing cross. This Steve totally failed to deliver, his cross sailing harmlessly towards the goalie. In a display of ineptitude not seen on Karori 1 since the last display of crap goalkeeping (no guessing please) this clown advanced toward the ball, allowing it to bounce behind him and up in to the roof of the net. Turtle supporters cheered mildly. One of the oppo back four was heard to mention that we hadn't even looked like scoring. He was politely invited to look at the fucking scoreboard, tosh.
The rest of the first half may have contained loads of action and incident, but I can't remember, so it didn't. The second half saw Naz going on up front, Don having a half, and Nicko dropping back to fill the random act of violence role in midfield. The Turtles were now pretty much in charge, the oppo's attacks not threatening Snout much, although he did have to jump for a ball at one stage. On returning to earth a short time later, he twinged something, and looked to require some magic water. Boss, manager, bucket carrier extraordinaire and brother of the aforementioned custodian of the onion-bag, couldn't see the point of walking 50 yards to help his beloved brother, so made do with a smile and a wave.
Miles away, the Turtles were attacking. Naz and Spratty were creating some nice stuff, and Weasel and Wal were causing problems out wide - naughty boys. Mid-way through the half, Weasel got a chance on the edge of the box, straight in front. In a display of ruthless power finishing, he lobbed a powder-puff shot towards goal. Incredibly, the keeper bettered his first half gaffe by waiting patiently for the ball and then catching it, whilst standing over the goal line. Weasel rushed away and did a little dance around the corner flag (allegedly). GT replaced Wal shortly after this embarrassment, and enlivened the game for about five minutes with his ability to run around aimlessly.
Not much else of note happened, apart from the third goal. Amid half-hearted appeals for off-side, Naz finished nicely from ten yards. The game now safe, PK was allowed on for a little trot, giving Weasel a chance to come off and start telling everyone about the power of his shooting. The last act of the match was an incident which may well mean the end of the most talked about (by him) career in Turtle history. Spratty went down in a heap, and had to be helped off. Five pints later, however, he seemed fine.
So the ghost of that horrible day back in
April was laid to rest, and the Turtles could get on with their lives again. For most,
that meant drinking heavily whilst watching the All Blacks.
Footynote: The last three Turtles match reports have been compiled by two guest writers.
To any reader personally offended by any comment made in those reports, we at Jet Plane
Press (Inc) would just like to say "Stiff Shit".