August 11th: Turtles 3 (2) - University 2 (0)
by Steve "Wolfman" Hambleton
In a break from recent tradition, this weeks match report describes only what happened in the game itself, and in no way digresses into the drug-addled imagination of this week’s author. Any complaints regarding this format can be forwarded to the Turtles website, and will be dealt with in a serious manner.
And so to the game. Our immediate concern on arrival at the ground was whether the oppo included the Pommy winger who ran rings around us in the first game. Thankfully he appeared to be missing, and the rest of them looked suitably motley. In fact, they started with only ten, and with the advantage of the wind the Turts had much of the early play. Wal and Brendon were in the middle, and were complimenting each other nicely. That is all very well, but has no place on a footy field, and after being told off by Simon for being a couple of self-important fag boys, they got down to the job in hand. Brendon won a lot of ball, and Wal linked this through to Paily and Stu up front.
Brendan and Paily push forward on attack
Now this reporter regards Paily as a pretty useful acquisition, being young and enthusiastic, and he has scored quite a few good goals. However, there is a school of thought amongst the older and bitter Turts (you know the type - leather chair at a Business Men's club, gout and liver problems, winter holidays in Fiji, respectable wife but keeps a tart in a flat in Wainui) that he is complete shite. In this game his play wasn't exactly dung, but it was certainly a watery fart with a bit of follow through. The only reason that he was involved in our two early goals was because he happened to be in that area of the field. Our first was a pen, and had its origins nearly three months ago. In our round one game with Varsity, their first two goals in a 4-3 win came shortly after two blatant handballs had been "missed" by their ref. It can only be speculation as to the reason for these "misses", and this is certainly not the place to stir up controversy by calling anyone a fucking cheat. But resentment over that day had been seething away in the loins of Turts ever since, and when Paily was given a ball to collect up in the left hand side of the oppo box, the moment for recompense came. As he does about twenty times a game, he jinked back, and fell over. Who can say whether the tackle was legitimate or not. Spratty was reffing, and gave the decision. Wal, as stand in captain (Tel away in Hamilton this time, posing in the corner at some party hoping people would look at him), had the decision to make on who was to take it. This was beyond him, and finally Stu took it upon himself, stepped up and scored.
Five minutes later it was two. Some good work up the left (probably by Weasel and Stu, but maybe not), resulted in Paily being presented with a nice shooting chance about 10 yards out straight in front. His effort fell for Wal over on the right, and his quick response was to lob. It looked like a brilliant goal, as it left the keeper for dead and rippled the net (expertly constructed in difficult circumstances prior to the game by Steve, Brendon, GT and a rubbish bin) in the far corner. Playing it cool, Wal was later to admit that it was indeed a brilliant goal. By now Spratty had entered proceedings. His career is starting to resemble that of George Burns, as one day he'll look dead and gone, and for all the world like a horse overdue for the glue factory, and then he turns up a couple of weeks later and is quite adequate, if completely lacking any sense of humour. With him on the park, our passing through the middle was a lot better, and chances came regularly. The finishing was too hurried though, partly because of the oppo's central defenders, who were pretty good all round players. Their greatest asset though was Paily, who as well as blowing two good chances, also strayed off-side at crucial moments, and twice got in the way of two players coming forward who were almost certainly going to bulge the top corner. The first of these was Brendon, who was rampaging around energetically, much in the way he does in Irish pubs on a Saturday night when he sees a cute, lonely-looking chair that is just gagging for it. The other was Dodge, up for a corner, so that didn't matter as much.
At other end Snouter was generally quiet, apart from dropping the first ball that came to him and nearly gifting a goal, but that doesn't mean the back four weren't stressed. They were regularly cut apart by the youthful running off the ball of the oppo forwards, and PK and Steve were embarrassed several times each. Mind you, PK had had a big few days prior to this match. On Thursday his team won an indoor netball final, and before he could wash and iron his pleated skirt he was kipping down for the night in a hall with 30 school-girls (and their teachers, all of whom were young and pert. Er, probably). Steve had no such excuses.
Big Si gets surrounded by the Varsity defence
Halftime was a time for quiet reflection. Phildo led the team in a short meditation session, and then just prior to us running back out, Snouter said a short prayer for world peace. Into the wind was a different bucket of PK puke altogether, with Snouter much more in play. The oppo keeper had a big kick, and the increasingly swirly wind made for some messy stuff at the back. Si was supposed to be our large-chested staunch man at the back with a powerful presence in the air, but instead he was lurching forward with alarming regularity. On one such burst he was provided with a shooting chance, and to the delight of all present he sliced it completely. The so-called shot curved away with the assistance of the wind, and as it's momentum slowed, the crowd excitement grew - it looked like it may go for a throw in.
From nowhere a bookie appeared with a blackboard, and the throw-in was paying $1.75; the corner $1.50. The cheering was deafening as the ball trickled towards the corner flag - to the disappointment of many it hit the flag and flopped over the goal line. Not surprisingly, when a huge kick menaced our half, Si was missing, and this left GT to face up to it. In fairness he did well to get within 5 yards of it, given his age and ancestry, and Steve and Dodge were left to deal with the resulting pressure. This they completely failed to do, and it was 2-1. Despite getting told off, Si continued to ponce around upfield, and five minutes later we were all in the twilight zone as it happened again. So, all square, and the oppo had their tails up, a generally illegal state of affairs so close to a childrens playground, but there was no time to complain just now.
Several Turts were now groaning, none more so than Matt, who was having one of his nightmares. After arriving late, he was now upfront with Stu, and posing a health hazard to anyone within 50 yards of him who wanted to light a match. In stark contrast, Stu doesn't drink, and generally treats his body like a temple, by eating well and getting monks to sweep out his insides every morning. On seeing Stu score what turned out to be the winner with about 25 minutes to go, Matt will probably never take another drink on a Friday night. It was remarkably similar to Stu's goal the previous week. Collecting on the edge of the box, he set off to the right. The back four pulled up chairs on the half-way line, and made a variety of comments on this move - “oh, I wouldn't have done that”, “that cheeky monkey”, “I can see my house from here”, “does anyone want the last apple turnover?”. Stu meanwhile pushed the ball further to the right, and then lashed it back across the keeper into the far corner. All over? Hardly. The youth of the oppo was starting to tell, and in reality we were only being held together by Brendon and a few pieces of string.
The interchange bench got a bit of use, with several rested players re-entering the fray to make no impact at all. One of the victims of this merri-go-round was GT. No-one else seemed to notice, but Snouter was becoming a stuck record as he yelled out "get him off" every time GT's control let him down. After the 20th instance of this, he was dragged. Matt and Weasel were also dragged, and both stomped off in a cloud of toxic fumes. The fence behind Snouter's goal was now getting a hammering from all the high and wide shots, and luckily the only thing on target, a bullet header from their No. 2, was straight at the ample belly of our cuddly custodian. Everyone dug deep into their limited physical resources (even Spratty made a sliding tackle), Dodge and Si held it together at the back, sort of, and we were rewarded with the final whistle and third place.
We now look forward to next week, when we are (probably) going to default at the last minute to Brodie's team, and thus deny them the chance to beat the Turtles record GF/GA season (1985??), and then turn up later for a nice cup of tea with them.
The author enters himself in another "Spot the Ball" competition!