May 15th: Turtles 4 (1) - Island Bay 0 (0)
One of a zillion goal kicks into the wind by Island Bay in the 2nd
half...
...and somehow, even on the ball, Tel manages to look old and crippled.
The people who go along to watch a sports event do so to a/. support their chosen team, and b/. to be entertained. The less entertaining or successful a team is, the fewer people will go to watch. With many great sporting institutions, the size of the crowd varies wildly as the fortunes of the team fluctuate. In football this is particularly so. Once great English clubs like Man City, Burnley and Leyton Orient used to host capacity crowds every week in the top division, but now struggle to sell enough pies and Bovril to cover the leccy bill.
So it is with the FTFC. In the heady days of the late eighties, when Spratty scored at will, Durrie kicked lumps out of "horizontal" Mo, and Gorsuch regularly emptied his pram, crowds of well over 20 were not uncommon, as lovestruck wives and girlfriends flocked to Ben Burn week after week. This season the attendance at Turtles matches has seldom topped five <Bollocks - read the stats! This was the first week we've had less that 6 this year! Webmeister>. This is a shame, as, on occasions, the play has been of excellent quality (although there has also been a fair amount of utter shite played by the lads).
On Saturday though the Turtle performance was one that could, if word got around, bring the crowds back. For not only was there quite a bit of good footy played, but up front there was a highly entertaining display of ineptitude by Si Garrett. Now Si is a sensitive young man, and by all accounts does not take abuse well, but a show of hands in the pub after the game confirmed that he should get a bit of a pasting in this report. Known in some quarters of the Turtle midfield as "the Black Hole of assists", Si on Saturday converted a creditable 5 percent of his 20 chances. As the game went on, his head went lower and lower, and by the time of the final whistle he had mud in his nostrils. To be fair, there were a swag of chances missed by others too, notably GT, Tony and Gordie, but Si provided a vast majority of the humour. How was it then, that so many chances were created?
Well, first and foremost, the oppo were shit. Containing several of the Indians we used to have trouble with when they played at Brooklyn before being kicked out (including the fat, whining wanker who played at the back), they played with the strong wind in the first half, and their game plan consisted of hoofing it from half-way to see what the wind would do with it. And against the wind, the Turtles played some excellent footy. Don and Tony in the middle subdued the oppo's one decent player, and used the ball skilfully. Tony was playing like a man whose golf clubs had just been released from a long incarceration. He spread the play wide to Weasel and GT, and also played some delightful through balls up the left wing for the skipper to run onto. Actually, most of the best play came up the left. Blobby got involved in a lot of the passing moves from the back, and Weasel, the skipper and Tony worked the openings for crosses.
Si, the benefactor of a lot of this good work, was already starting to sulk. Not even scoring the first goal helped. The skip bent a low cross behind the oppo's defence, and Si, for the one and only time for the day, hit it where he wanted to. Soon after Tony and Si ran from halfway together, but Tony thought shooting himself was a better option than squaring to Si, who was five yards out from an open goal. Another miss. GT stuffed up a good chance as well, displaying the first touch in the box of a bag of nails. At the other end things were rather quiet for Snouter, despite the fierce wind. The oppo had a couple of corners, but didn't have the skill to make these threatening, and Tel was dominating in the air anyway. Behind him, Dodge had an easy ride, so to speak.
When we turned around at 1-0, the one-way traffic parked in their half. Snout may as well have gone off to the rugby (the 'canes up the road at Athletic Park). The oppo replaced one of their adequate players with a kid of about 11, so basically gave up. After a few long range shots from Tony, Si continued his comedy routine. In the space of about 10 minutes, 3 or 4 tap-in chances came to him via through balls, nod ons and crosses. Each of these went wide or over. From a corner, Si arrived at the far post, soared majestically, and bulleted his header 10 yards over.
Meanwhile, the oppo ref thought he'd join in the act with one of the great off-side decisions. The skip got into the box, and pushed it past a defender down to the by-line. His cross came back to Wal, who expertly finished the cross at the far post. The ref regarded this as an offence, and indicated that the skipper was offside. Several Turtles wanted to have a go at him, but he really wasn't worth it. Soon after that, we actually had to call an off-side for him, as Si received a nod on and finished it.
Gordie, on at half-time for the rapidly ageing Weasel, was not having a good time, being constantly frustrated at the way every decent chance went to Si and not him. Finally he did get one, and smashed a nicely bouncing ball over the keeper from the edge of the box. Thinking he was now wonderful, the next time he got the ball he waltzed around several defenders and the keeper, and tried to slot it from a tight angle. The three unmarked people standing in front of the open goal would have been justified in calling him a Scottish git, should they have done so. Terry by this stage had abandoned the back four, and was spending most of his time in the box. The rest of the back four were standing on half-way having a jolly good laugh. This laughter turned to protests as Terry had a shot from 25 yards, it took a deflection and looped over the keeper for goal number three. Dodge demanded it be called an own goal. 5 minutes later Tel did it again, this time his shot was going straight at the keeper in the centre of the goal when a deflection took it inside the post.
So the final curtain came down on a real tragi-comedy. The main star stormed off petulantly like a true artiste, and refused to come for a beer. The meagre crowd dispersed, chuckling to themselves. Hopefully, they will tell their friends.