May
5th: Turtles 1 (1) - Lower Hutt B 2 (1)
by Scoop Hambleton
Matt and his dog remain unimpressed
Dodger finally dragged himself to the sitting position at 11am. It was the morning of his 200th game in the Turtle colours, and he wanted to give himself plenty of time to prepare, and such an important morning could not be wasted. He reached for the meticulously prepared checklist that had been placed in his bedside Lazy Susan the night before. The Saturday morning ritual was the same as it had always been, but routine was vital: Wake. Shag (nearest living thing). Sleep. Wake. Various bathroom activities. Full English Breakfast (incl. bread fried in lard). Ten minutes abuse practise in front of mirror. Travel to game with Spratty - don't forget to call him something nasty.
In a career spanning all the highs and lows to Turtle history, the "prick at
the back" as he is affectionately known, had seldom failed to live up to his reputation for clinical play, insulting abuse, and, if we win, smarminess.
In an attempt to get the definitive comment on this wobbling tub of lard, we sought out the man, if he can be called that, who has spent a good deal of
those 200 games watching Dodge in action from behind. This reporter tracked down Snouter in his office on the Terrace. This wasn't easy. It involved
sneaking into the stair well of the PWC building at 5pm on Tuesday, and hiding in a broom cupboard that had been left ajar by a cleaner who is now
on the payroll of Jetplane Press. After a restless night amongst cleaning utensils and thousands of documents on the Elton John case (an interesting
read), access was gained to Snouters floor by nipping through a closing door as the first smoker of the day came out. A convincing impersonation of a
.Com client in need of some advice enabled swift navigation of the fortress of buxom PA's that guard his office, and at 8:03 the interview commenced. At
8:05 this reporter was forcibly removed from the PWC building by three muscle-bound gorillas posing as Security guards, kicked several times in the
lower abdomen, and dumped in a gutter on the Terrace. Nevertheless, in the time we had Snouter was eloquent in his summation of the Dodger career -
"You barged in here to ask me about that useless piece of shite. Are you nuts? Wait here ten seconds - I have some friends who will assist you in
getting the fuck out of here". So there you have it: "useless piece of shite". It's not exactly in the same
league as Richie Benaud talking about Don Bradman, but I'm sure you agree that sometimes these so-called experts use ten thousand words when four will
suffice.
Dodge. Dodger. Roger. Shite. Call him what you will, but there is no denying that he is completely to blame for us losing on Saturday. The case is so irrefutable that there is no need to produce evidence to support it. For the second time in three weeks we had to suffer Fraser Park, and this time the misty rain had turned the dust into dirt. This made control of the ball no less easy, but at least you could go to ground without requiring a skin graft later. The oppo were our old foe from Div 5, so we knew what to expect. Our surprise to them was to start with Spratty. So surprised were they that they left him alone for most of the first half, and he was able to direct quite a bit of our play. This was useful because Livi was a mess. In a spiteful act of sabotage, Tony G, traitor and bar owner, had got the naive young lad completely smashed the previous night, Tattoo and two hours sleep being the sorry outcome. Surely the other Karori team doesn't have to resort to these underhand tactics to win the grade. Anyway, Livi was adequate but sluggish, and got grumpier as the game went on. Playing with the slope and the wind, the oppo threatened often, and corners were our main worry. From one of these, Snouter confidently punched clear; clear being a foot over his own cross bar. Shortly after that Livi was chopped outside the area, and Spratty lined it up. In an act of total disrespect, Steve came up and demanded the shot be his. Spratty argued, but too late, and the kick was curled around the wall. After a brief skirmish behind the wall, Livi touched it on to Paily, who converted with an overhead (photo below). Not bad.
The lads played some good stuff for a while after this, particularly Brendon and Spratty in the middle. Up ahead Paily created several openings with his running, but was too hasty with his last touch on each occasion. At Snouters end there were worrying signs. Dodger was at full stretch several times, and Si also had to make a couple of crucial tackles. The corners kept coming, and from one of these a goalbound header was hipped around the post by Steve for the fateful next corner. Ross went out to block it, and a huge appeal for handball rang out. We all looked around to see that it had come from one of their players who was reffing. He looked a bit sheepish, and pointed to the spot. It was a fair call, but could easily have not been given in our grade. (Actually, Murray did a more blatant one in the box in the second half that was ignored). In a remarkable piece of keeping, Snouter listened to advice from PK on how to stop pens, and it was one-all. The next oppo corner was nearly another goal, as a bullet header skimmed the top of the bar.
We had a good chance late in the half when Paily and Livi worked it in close, but Livi was up-ended just before he could shoot. Livi demanded a pen, but not today was the call. Livi was livid. At halftime PK and Spratty came off for Wal and Murray, about an even trade in terms of height, and not far off in age either. With the turn around we were hopeful, but without Spratty the quality delivery to Livi and Paily was gone. Wal added zip down the right however, and our best attacking came from there for a while. This included a great ball into the box from Livi for Wal to run onto, but he was ten years too late. Our corners lacked the aerial threat that the oppo had posed, although Murray contrived a remarkable back-header from the near post that had to be cleared off the line. The oppo's bastard No. 10 (see last years reports) was getting a lot of ball to run at our tired old fullbacks, and this was our major concern. Luckily the surface meant he couldn't run all the way, but from out on our left he created the winner. After getting past Steve, Brendon and Si, he got it into the middle, it was helped on to the far post, and the guy who had given the pen in the first half slotted the winner. There was still plenty of time left, but the lads were fading. Ross and Brendon started to bump into each other at regular intervals, and Livi was more interested in complaining about his headache. Finally with about ten to go, Livi and Paily again worked it in close for the chance of an equaliser. Livi just couldn't shoot quick enough though, and was tackled. Again he was livid, and started some shoving. He later admitted that "I should have scored, the guy tackled me, so I hit him". From the resulting corner a clear shooting chance was worked for Dodge on the edge of the box. Never mind. The final act of the game was fitting. Brendon and Steve went for the same ball, resulting in a couple of bruises, and a bit of laughing. On the way to the pub, Dodger checked off the rest of his list: Play game. Drink beer. Drive Spratty home. Watch rugby and abuse telly. Get barred up for shag by thinking how well I played today.
The traditional passing around of the Turtle juice at half time (Lemon Barley
this week)