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June 17th: Turtles 2 (1) - Eastbourne 1 (0)The
recent news that George Best is giving up the drink has sent shock waves through
the footballing world. Since the sixties, Best has been a shining example to the
impressionable young player, in the way he would drink heavily, shag loads of
top notch totty, and still get out and play magic football on Saturday. The
realisation that such a debauched lifestyle may have taken a terrible toll on
Best, in the form of a liver the size, shape and consistency of a deflated ball,
must be of concern to millions of players of this great game. As the flagbearers
of the game in this country, it is the duty, nay, responsibility of the FTFC to
ensure that the demise of George Best does not see playing numbers suffer. It's
not hard to imagine the scene played out in countless suburban back yards : Mrs
Ujarse: "Come here and give me that stupid round ball". How do we stop this horror unfolding all over the country, I hear you demand. Well, to start with, this column will try to show the mothers of NZ that a young man can have a life of excess in every way, play football, and still be a picture of health in middle age. To do this, we can hold up for inspection any number of Turtle stalwarts who are approaching or beyond 40. No, not Spratty. It would be all too easy to analyse the life of Spratt in comparison to Best, but as they are both British that would not be so relevant to the NZ youth. Lets
start at the back. Snouter seldom has more than 8 hours sleep, and some weeks
even less, yet still retains his cat-like reflexes. Dodger has played 23
thousand games of indoor hockey in the last 15 years, and can still tell an
opposing striker that his last shot was crap. Terry has subjected his eardrums
to high volume bass music and the screeching conversation of 20 year old tarts
for 20 years, but can still head a ball without bleeding. GT looks half his age.
Wal doesn't, which is no surprise given stories we have heard regarding his
"wild" behaviour at Uni, but he can still embarrass people 5 years
younger than him with his speed. Tony is, admittedly, slowing down a bit, but
can still take a solid goal kick. The
modern youth would do well to follow in the footsteps of any of these Turtle
stars. Excess and football can go together, and our advice to the Mrs Ujarses of
this country is to give Tarquin back his round ball, and perhaps give him half a
shandy when he comes in. The game. If George Best had been on the sideline at Ben Burn for Eastbourne's visit, he may well have neglected doctors orders and reached for his hip flask. It was a bit of a shocker to watch, due to a corrugated pitch, a gusty wind, and Si G being up front for the FTFC. We have no idea who we whipped 11 zip at Bishop Park in round one, but it wasn't this crowd. Some of these could actually play, particularly Troy (no relation of the LH bastard). So good was he in fact, that Gordie felt the need to nobble him mid-way through the second half, which he did with a subtle sprig to the achilles. But more of that later. We started brightly, with Livi, back from a months holiday in a sweaty kitchen, providing most of the spark. Early on he jinked through the middle, but for some reason passed to Spratty instead of shooting. Spratty, shocked at receiving a pass that he would never have given, scuffed wide. At the other end, Nicko provided a few early laughs. Playing sweeper, he didn't seem to have been told that there was no-one, apart from Snouter, behind him. On several occasions he fluffed around or tried some nice short passes, and trouble resulted. Only some desperate hacks by the more experienced defenders saved these situations. PK and Phildo were doing some nice controlled stuff on the left, and our opener came from this side. Livi and then Gordie continued it into the box, and Gordie's inside pass found Spratty 10 yards out. The ball was bobbling, but the old man has seen it all before, and yawned as he put it in the top corner. This was a good start into the howling wind, and given the gentle nature of the oppo play, it seemed a second may not have been far away. But they started to compete a bit more, and strung a few passes together in the middle. Fortunately they had little to offer in attack, other than some longish shots that Snouter handled competently. In fact, one of their forwards did very well to miss a chance handed to him by GT and Snouter, who were caught together on the edge of the box. Incompetence by all three meant nothing was a fair result. A couple of serious looking injuries had people calling for Grunter, but he was too busy playing soccer and later rugby with his son Andrew, who, at three feet, already has more athletic ability than his father. The injured therefore had to limp on. The highlight of the rest of the half was Livi's free-kick. It came after a deliberate handball by Troy outside the box (Don, reffing, told him that was naughty). Livi told Spratty that he was going to curl it into the top corner, and gave everyone a lesson by curling it out for a throw in. Half-time saw PK, Phildo and Livi ditched in favour of Stevie, Si L and Don, a youthful and explosive bench. These three exploded onto the pitch, and had to clean it up before play could commence. With the wind, the Turts had much the better of the play. Wal had his weekly sprint down the right, and presented a perfect square ball into the box. Spratty moved it on to Si G, who from five yards produced a finish we have come to expect. Troy, the oppo sweeper, had a lot of ball, and took the piss out of Si G at every opportunity. Si did once dispossess him, and gave Gordie a simple chance on the near post. Gordie has dried up recently, in more ways than one, and missed badly. Gordie later redeemed himself by nobbling Troy, a lovely piece of subtle Scottish thuggery, especially as he walked away from the scene of the crime claiming innocence. Scrutiny of Troy's leg later revealed a small card saying "You have been visited by The Falkirk Firm". Shortly after that Si Law surged forward from sweeper, and pinged it into the top corner from 25 yards. It was a goal of astonishing brilliance, especially from him. Further praise would be inadequate, so that will do. With five to go the game seemed dead, until Troy rose from the ashes and surged through the middle. Several ineffectual tackles saw him approach the danger zone, and Spratty ordered Stevie to get him. This he did with a perfectly timed tackle that had nothing to do with the ball. The resulting free kick was dribbled around the side of the wall and approached the corner of Snouts goal gently. Snouter made a lovely big ball-sized shape with his arms, and through the ball went into the corner of the net. So the last five were a bit hectic, but there was nothing to excite the crowd, as they had long since left. |
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