April
27th:
Turtles 4 (2) - Seatoun 3 (2)
by Stevie "Gerbil Hutch" Hambleton
Anyhow, at Crofton Downs the conductor spotted a lonely bag sitting on the platform. He picked it up, brought it into the carriage and asked if anyone there owned it. He then took it up the front and dumped it beside the driver’s door to sort out later. Those of you who have been on the tubes in London during an IRA campaign would find this ironic. The correct reaction should have been a complete evacuation of the train, a full armed defenders squad call-out, and the spectacular destruction of the bag (along with its contents of a meat pie and a Penthouse) at the hands of a robotic dog called K9. My imagination displayed the possible scene as we jiggled down Ngaio Gorge: just as we passed the stadium, the bomb exploded, turning the driver and conductor into a nice fine minestrone. The damage to the passengers ranged from very fatal to just fatal enough to make later identification possible with dental records. The force of the explosion was only partially contained by the train carriage itself, and the nearby crowded stadium sustained serious infrastructural disruption. No instant death there, but it was early doors. 32,000 punters were asked to leave quietly, and in the resulting panic anyone sober was crushed (the drunk ones stayed behind to watch the show and have a roadie).
A couple of minutes later the damaged supports gave way, and the Southern concourse collapsed, taking several thousand with it. The loss of life was catastrophic. An obscure Welsh separatist group, The Taffy Bun, claimed responsibility, calling for a full apology for the Andy Haden diving incident. Four days later the Taffy Bun, and its leader Ivor Bin Tinkin, were located in a garden shed just outside Mether Tydfill, and this was nuked. Peripheral damage was limited to Southern Wales, so the operation was graded a success.
Two big girls
However, it was only a bag. But it makes you think - sometimes you just don't know whether your bag will be nice and safe and pleasant, or a complete bomb. After last week's hiding, many Turtle fans must have been left wondering if this move to Masters was going to blow up in their faces. Many among that bumper Ben Burn crowd last week must have walked away thinking - "I'm never wasting another Saturday arvo watching that useless bunch of lardos, when I could be at home ironing". Well, faith would have been restored on Saturday, had anyone bothered to come to watch us. Against a side containing some very good footballers, the Turtles came from behind to win a good quality game.
We started in steamy conditions, and within 5 minutes everyone was feeling the heat. None more so than Tel and Dodge at the back. They found themselves having to contend with Nigel Simpson, ex-top level player and Five Nations hero. That may take some explaining. Kiwis living in London will traditionally bonk several different nationalities during their stay. English is a given, Welsh isn't difficult, but the others can be tricky. Nigel, although now a happily married father, was set on course early by a French nurse from across the road. English - a complete stranger (female) whilst walking home through Hyde Park. Irish - pick any All Black test in Dublin. Welsh - an encounter at The Church (not the God one, the drinking one) one Sunday. Dawn was energetic, and in the weeks to follow Nigel quite often looked exhausted. An enquiry after his health would be met with a shrug and "ah, you know, up at the crack of dawn again". As his departure back here approached, the lads realised the Scottish leg was missing, so a weekend break in Edinburgh was hastily arranged. Nigel flew back to London that Sunday night with the trophy stashed away in his luggage - the clinic sorted it out the next day.
As most of you know not all the time spent living in London is beer and bonking. There are plenty of horrific sights to contend with as well. Can you imagine the psychological trauma involved in coming back to your flat one Saturday afternoon and catching Dodger practising his palmistry on the couch? Alone.
Anyhoo, back to the game. Big Nige was a serious threat in the air, but Tel and Simon rose to the challenge, so to speak. Both made numerous forceful headers throughout the game, generally nullifying that threat. Unfortunately there was also plenty of threat on the ground from this team, as they stroked it around confidently. The pressure told after about ten minutes, when a ball came in from our left. A clearance ricocheted fortunately for an oppo attacker, and he calmly lobbed Snouter.
We were having trouble getting forward, with Murray and Chris being tied up with tracking back, but when we did get the ball up Spratty and Daryl were always threatening. Daryl seems to have overcome his early season aerobic problems, and is now posing problems to the oppo. Ross, over on the right, started slowly, but when he got the pace of the game was extremely effective, helping out defensively and then getting up to provide width. The initial burst from the oppo seemed almost spent after about 20, as Chris and Murray were getting room in the middle to move forward, but then we went 2 down. A nice passing movement ended with Nigel receiving just inside the box. He used his body to turn Dodge, and was left with only Snouter to beat, which was not a problem.About now the pace of the game changed. The energy of Chris and Murray, along with Simon and Tel's physical presence at the back, meant we got more ball forward, had more time with it, and Spratty could start to control attacks. Our first goal came from having numbers forward. Chris played it up to Steve on the edge of the box, and he flicked it on for Spratty. The keeper came to him, and Spratty could just get the touch across him for Ross and Daryl who were to his right. Ross won the right to tap it in by way of having the bigger car.
Stevie nonchalant on rear-guard action... or are the legs crossed to keep the
gerbils in the hutch?
About ten minutes later we drew level. GT thrust forward inscrutably from right back, and played a delightful ball for Daryl to run onto. He was clear of the defence, but had a long way to go. With great control at speed he approached the keeper, and then flicked it over him as he dived in front. Some say it was a bobble and shin effort, but Daryl quite rightly claimed it as a clinical finish. So back on even terms, and we were now creating the better chances. Chris was getting forward, and the oppos tiring midfield allowed him time to pick out his passes. Chris took several corners, and from one of these plonked it on Spratty's head straight in front 6 yards out. The wee gnome sent a powerful header over the bar, to much amusement. The oppo though were not amused. They were beginning to argue among themselves and with the ref as the early dominance dissipated. Not content with this, the Turtles got stuck into each other later on as the game became tense, with Spratty and Dodge in particular throwing around some pointless abuse.
At half-time Snouter revealed that a flat tyre had stopped him from bringing the bucket and drink container. Given that he drives a car worth more than some peoples houses, this was a pretty feebly concocted excuse. The parched and panting Turtles had to make do with Cashel's cordial or tap water.
The second half started with a worrying combination of GT, Ross and Lawrie patrolling the right. But these three hustled and bustled superbly throughout the half, not only in defense but also with some good attacking combinations. The third oppo goal did, however, originate from that area. They had started the half with renewed vigour, and were again stroking it around. 10 minutes in they sliced up our defence and there was another good finish over the advancing Snouter. No apparent blame for any particular Turtle, but lets just choose Dodge for the sake of argument.
Shortly after this the oppo started to tire again, and we found lots of room, particularly up the left. PK, Steve and Weasel were given ample opportunities to stretch their legs, but usually declined and settled for a pass in to the increasingly excited Spratty. Our equaliser must have put him close to ejaculation. Lawrie had wandered up from right back, and got a pass near half-way. He initially lost control, but then challenged hard, and it fell forward for Spratty, who jinked back inside, beat two, and slotted bottom far corner. Nice.
Murray, ludicrously energetic still, and Chris were now running riot through the middle, and Chris took a pass at speed and entered the box. As he readied to open his Turtle account, he was clattered by an interesting tackle somewhere above the knee. The ref, 40 yards back, decided it was outside the box, a diplomatic call under the circumstances. Spratty tapped the free kick to Daryl on the right of the wall, and his airball and fall to the ground could only be called amusing. Not so his winner shortly after. Spratty nudged it forward for him, and he lobbed the advancing keeper skilfully. Complaints for offside were ignored, and later Wal, captain supreme on the sideline, confirmed he was OK.
The last ten featured lots of wasted chances by us. Tel made a remarkable run down the left, but by the time he approached goal he was knackered, so he passed it tamely to a defender and went off for a lie down. Spratty had a brutal drive into the top corner saved in spectacular fashion by the keeper, and Weasel showed that he is actually right footed after all, with a cracking shot that shaved the top of the bar. There was a bit of stress at the back, but no saves for Snouter, a tribute to the defense. The sun came out, and as everyone got overheated there was a bit of frustrated niggly stuff, with PK the victim of an ugly foul, but the game finished in good spirit.
The Turtles were chuffed with the win (although the half-hearted "we are ace, we are cool..." was going a bit far), and perhaps it shows that the boys, or rather old men, won't bomb the season after all.
