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August 8th: Turtles 4 (1) - Wellington United Westpac 0 (0)<Webmeister: Apologies for the late appearance of this week's match report. This was entirely due to my absent-mindedness and not at all in protest to the author making inadequate reference in this report to his firing a sitter over the bar from 10cm in front> Milestones. Remember the day Richard Hadlee got his 300th test wicket. The game against Australia was nicely poised, and set up for the great man to stroll in and do the biz in front of a packed Basin. As usual, the Aussies displayed a complete lack of appreciation of the occasion, and at lunch number 300 had not yet arrived. Now, there are certain ingredients which go together. Gin and tonic. Rum and coke. A hot sunny day on the bank at the Basin and - beer. It's not compulsory, but I think you know where I'm coming from on this one. So, as the afternoon session got underway, attention was starting to waver. After a while, a walk was required, and after bumping into Steelo, famous ex-Turtle and grumpy person, in front of the burger cart, we decided a circumnavigation of the ground was in order. Half-way round, the discussion turned to the problems of the world, and it seemed like a good idea to lean on the picket fence and sort them out. Well, we got no further than what to do about the Ayatollah, when the ground was engulfed in an almighty roar. Allan Border had chosen that very moment to lean forward along the wrong line. The finger went up, and that was number 300. Steelo joined the writer of this report in expressing himself appropriately, and as the tumult died down, there were definite words of complaint emanating from the seats behind us. On turning around, it was clear what had happened. A middle aged chap had brought his two kids along to witness one of the great singular moments in NZ sporting history. They had probably arrived at the ground early to secure great seats, but it was all for nothing, as the special moment was hidden from their view by myself and Mr Steele. Showing great remorse, we continued on our way, stopping at the next beer tent for refreshments. Historic sporting moments come and go. Some you get to see. Some you don't. Some you see, and couldn't care less if you had or not. Into this last category falls Spratty's 250th goal for the FTFC. It came early in the second half. The skipper squared the ball to him on the edge of the box. He controlled it, skipped to his right to beat a defender, and drilled it into the top right hand corner. Some said it was a fitting end to a great goal-scoring career, others were more concerned about how much Spratty was putting on the bar. Prior to this moment, the game was a bit of a struggle. In the first half, the Turtles played into a chilly southerly, but did have the first chance, a cut back finding Spratty in space in the box, but his shot went wide. On the right, Cooky had seen enough, and went down with Turtle knee, allowing GT to enter the fray. For most of the first 15 we were on the back foot, our defence struggling to cope with the way the oppo strolled through the middle. Luckily for Snouter, their shooting and crossing was poor, and we particularly enjoyed seeing their left wing wasting all the quality ball he was given. Not much was happening up front, so taking the lead was a pleasant surprise. Simon G challenged the keeper, and the ball fell nicely for the skipper, who scored from close range, a bloody good effort considering it was the right foot, and what a crap player the rest of the team think he is. Shortly afterwards, another easy chance came his way, but there is no need to go into that one. One up at half time was a good result for us though. Terry came on for Dodge, who needed to get away early for a game of skittles in Palmerston North, and immediately Tel made a difference with his dominance in the air. Don also found his bearings, and the oppo's attacks became less threatening. With the wind, there was plenty of ball for our forwards to run on to, and Simon G put in some hard yards, despite still feeling a bit unwell with the flu. He really is a lovely chap, tries hard, and we are very lucky to have him. Spratty's goal eased the pressure somewhat, and soon after that Tel produced the goal of the game. Collecting a ball from GT about 25 yards out, he looked up and saw Spratty on the far post. This produced a quandary for him - do I cross for this Pom, knowing full well how insufferable the English are when things are going well for them, having lived there for a while, or have a go myself ? The debate on the relative merits of his options spread throughout the team. Some backed a cross, but those of us who had also spent time living in England were adamant he should have a go himself. A show of hands sorted it out, and he pinged it in the top corner. We eased off a bit after that, but still nothing too threatening for the grey teletubby in our goal. His moment would come later. Weasel, who, by his own admission, was having a shocker, (and who can argue with such an experienced player), came off to discuss drapes with Mrs Garrett, allowing PK to have a trot. PK's trot soon turned into a 35 yard run down the left to retrieve a one-two from the skipper. He got to it, but struggled from then on. Spratty was getting a few kicks from disgruntled oppo midfielders, and from one of these lined up a free kick about 30 yards out. He curled it to the far post, and Simon G nodded in. The oppo came back at us, and probed Snouter's area. Again nothing threatening for a while, until one of their attackers got the ball with back to goal. GT was close behind him, and Si called out that "holding" was a good idea. Perhaps in Cantonese that means "kick the shit out of his legs". The ref called for a foul, and we lined up a wall. The ref then held a discussion with some of his team-mates, and came to the conclusion that the foul took place inside the box, and it was actually a pen. As we all knew that it was, there was no dissent. Snout gained the psychological upper hand on the pen taker by smiling at him. Although well struck, the shot was straight enough for Snout to get plenty behind, and parry it away for a corner. The only other event of note in the game was Spratty shaping to punch an oppo player on the ground. It appears that this is his new technique for selling mortgages to reluctant clients. |
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