I always look forward to the game after FA Cup night. While wise old Turts sneak off home after the traditional team dinner (particularly in view of the next day being Mothers Day and the fact that most of us do indeed keep our testicles in our wives handbags), many Turts with rapidly expanding waistlines and even more rapidly receding hairlines attempt to relive the debauched experiences of their youth by staying up to watch the game. Last week’s report covered some of the incidents but the best stories tend to surface throughout the week. To recap:

• PK disgraced himself and showed a complete lack of financial responsibility by ordering extra butter chicken at dinner only to regurgitate it a few hours later. For some reason he thought that the lads would like a close inspection of the contents of his stomach so he deposited same on Don’s bathroom floor – his aim in the bathroom is about as good as his aim on the pitch.

• Matt, who appeared to be one of the wiser Turts by not making it to Don’s for the game, later informed us that he woke up on Sunday morning sitting on the bog with his trousers around his ankles.

• Spratty, who earned a new level of respect by demolishing a particularly evil triple vindaloo at the team dinner, subsequently described the impact of that on his digestive and waste management system. Apparently he spent all of Saturday night with toilet paper shoved up his arse to stop shitting himself. He had to soak his gruts in Janola for the rest of the week. I do hope that Don boiled the sheets he slept in. <Nope - burned them. Don>

But enough of this reminiscing – what about Saturday’s game ??

Quite simply, the Turts were cheated.

You never know quite what you’re going to get when you play University. It could be a bunch of spotty adolescents to be meekly brushed aside by the Turtle football machine, or it could be a team of talented young footballers who can’t be bothered playing real football and spend each Saturday taking the piss out of unfit plodders. This week’s University side had definite shades of the former with two notable exceptions. The first was a gun striker who was not only too skilful for our defence to stop him, but was also too quick to be late tackled and severely injured. The latter was an extremely incompetent ref who, if he plays like he refs, we can understand why wasn’t given a run by the oppo.

The venue this week was Anderson Park, the Home of Cricket and scene of Zil’s only Senior 50. Any semblance of being impressed was quickly erased by Dodge reminding us that the oppo that day was Plimmerton, a club which once paid money to Spratty to play cricket for them (enough said). Well the Home of Cricket certainly wasn’t the home of football. The grass was long to the extent of being agrarian – in fact it looked a bit like a green version of Stevie’s entire body.

Tel, despite his extensive practice over the previous weekend away in Melbourne, lost the toss and we started the game playing into the setting sun. The opening 15 minutes were pretty even, although the extent of the oppo’s running around was a worrying sign. Then came the match defining moment. A ball being cleared on halfway was knocked down by a University hand and the player headed off towards goal. The ref completely ignored the universal demands for handball, not only from the Turts, but also from the packed sideline. The oppo player then threaded the ball through the motionless Turtle defence to their key striker who was a good 10m offside. More calls for offside whistled in one ref’s ear and out the other. The oppo striker calmly slotted the ball past a stranded Snout and the score was 1-0. The fuckwitted ref probably didn’t even recognise the quality of the abuse that followed.

At least this got the Turts riled and soon afterwards Don completed the tackle of the season so far which sent one oppo player writhing to the sideline and out of the match. Unfortunately this was soon followed by another goal when Stevie and Murray stood by and watched the oppo striker waltz past them and slot number 2. Although the Turts did a fair amount of attacking we were unable to convert the pressure into goals.

The team breathed a collective sigh of relief when at half time Stevie said he’d come off for the second half. The red rug had not had one of his better days. The replacements were Wal (who had come on in the first half to replace an injured Paily) and two of Spratty’s drinking buddies. Darryl, who always looked like he was recovering from three all night drinking sprees on the trot, had played for us before. He impressed the lads after the game by announcing that he was off for a job interview as DJ at Liks. The other was a new recruit. Stu at least looked like a footballer.

Despite being 2-0 down the lads were confident of a second half resurgence. Unfortunately, after 10 minutes of the second half the score was 4-0. We need only describe one of these two goals as each was a copy of the other. Imagine this - ball passed to feet of supposedly well marked striker just outside the area. Striker then turns and weaves his way through three Turt defenders (visualise a jetboat and three supertankers) to slot the ball home. Well, 4-0 down and all scored by the same player. Calls went out to Don (or anyone) to sharpen up their sprigs and put this guy out of action.

It was tempting at this stage to visualise a record Turtle defeat. However, this year’s team is made of sterner stuff than that. A resurgence followed. Our first goal came from a cross from the left which found Matt on the far post. He carefully placed his header over the keeper into the far corner of the goal. 4-1 and the pressure was on. Stu was making some great runs up the right wing and getting in behind the oppo defence. Meanwhile. at the back, our defence was dealing with any University attacks.