May
18th:
Turtles 4 (1) - BNU 1 (0)
CAPTAIN'S DIARY by R.D. Kinsella, 2002,
Hoddle & Staunton, r.r.p. $1.95 in most good remainder bins.
...
The Turtles' next game proved to be the defining moment of my captaincy career.
The whole strike force had buggered off for one reason or another. Spratty and
Daryl had both claimed leg injuries, and for the sake of team harmony, I had to
take at face value the dubious excuses of these two long term malingerers. I
knew only too well that come Saturday, the two of them would in all probability
be found slumped over a couple of jugs of DB Export in a dark corner of the
Valley Club while drunkenly reminiscing over non-existent glory days. Gordie
hadn't proffered any sort of excuse whatsoever, but I didn't pressure the
sensitive Scottish soul, all too aware of the fragility of his marriage, given
Brenda's history of extramarital misconduct with various of his best friends.
Zil had rung me early on the morning of the game to announce that Karen was
dropping their third sprog a week earlier than expected and he was consequently
unavailable. He's not in the Hurricanes, for fuck's sake. There's no need for
that sort of new age sensitivity when you play for the Turtles. Anyway, it was
his third kid - surely once you've seen one birth, you've seen them all. To be
perfectly honest, I'm surprised he managed to hit the target, considering his
bollocks have spent his entire married life in Karen's handbag.
Wal,
sensing imminent disaster in terms of his win-loss ratio, had quickly washed his
hands of the whole affair by booking a trip to Seattle for the latest Microsoft
product conference, no doubt keen to partake in the usual executive-type relief
that is an all too sordid part of the U.S. convention centre circuit these days.
As a result, I was left to pick up the pieces and to carry the can if we managed
to lose to BNU, a team which by rights we should have comfortably put away.
Bloody typical.
However,
I resolved to take it like the man I am and managed to secure the remaining far
less talented members of the squad. As the reader may have guessed by now, I was
then faced with the burning issue of who the hell amongst this motley rabble was
capable of scoring a goal for us, the obvious answer being no-one. But I knew it
couldn't let it rest at that - something had to be done and quickly. Who were
the candidates?
Well,
there was Lance. My God. 0 for plenty from his previous outings this season was
hardly an encouraging sign, but surely he had to come right sooner or later.
With luck, his charming wife would come along to inspire him to greater things.
His display against Miramar the previous week in front of her adoring eyes must
surely have put a strain on their marriage, so he'd no doubt be looking to
redeem himself with an improved performance this week. Or so I hoped.
What
about Frankie boy? The lad had potential, having toiled manfully up front during
our pre-season match against the other Waterside team, but this good work had
been undone by a disgraceful display of passing during Wednesday night's
practice session. Besides, in his current state of decrepitude, he'd obviously
only be good for ten minutes per half at best, and I knew I needed more from my
strike force than that.
P.J.
then. The useless lump hadn't been seen in boots since the Wests B game after
suffering dizzy spells and collapsing in a heap from attempting to run for the
first time in six years. Although he'd shown some promising touches in that
game, I knew I'd be unable to rely on someone who was incapable of remaining
upright on a footie field for more than 30 seconds at a time.
How
about Ross? Hmmm, never mind.
Stevie?
Well, he had experience on his side, and had managed to find the back of the old
onion bag at least once a season during his previous incarnation as a striker.
Admittedly not a great strike rate, but a damn sight more impressive than any of
the other candidates. I carefully considered his merits and, remembering his
wanky claim to be our fastest player, decided to move him up one spot to left
half with a licence to attack at will.
Who
the hell else was there? Big Si Law. Christ Almighty, I was really scraping the
bottom of the barrel here. But then the more I thought about it, the more it
seemed to make sense, in a totally perverse sort of way, of course. In his
favour, the big goat had actually scored once this season, plus there was the
fact that he was all too willing to get forward as often as possible, although
not renowned for getting back in a hurry subsequently. Why not kill two birds
with one stone? One, the big lummox could attack as much as he wanted, and two,
he wouldn't have to worry about getting back in defence. Brilliant!
2.30
p.m. at Happy Valley No. 2, previously the venue for some or our more memorable
mud-ridden encounters with BNU. I'd lost the toss and we were playing into the
blinding sun. We kicked off and immediately mounted some promising looking
attacks. For twenty minutes it was all us - we had numerous attacks resulting in
scoring chances and made every tackle count - and I think I only touched the
ball once in this time. This captaincy lark was a complete doddle. Big Si was
looking promising and was unlucky to see a shot rebound off the post to safety.
Our corners were causing plenty of consternation in the opposition defence,
mainly thanks to their complete lack of inclination to challenge for any of
them. There was a real flurry of action as one of these was met by a glancing
header from Stevie, forcing a good reaction save from the keeper. The ball made
it out to the edge of the area from where Chris smashed a shot back onto the
bar, then looped out to Si who lobbed it back toward goal, only for the keeper
to tip it onto the bar and out for another corner.
Something
had to give, and finally a loose ball on the edge of the area was met by
Stevie's right boot and hammered past the BNU goalie for a deserved 1-0 lead.
The ginger haired gerbil fancier looked as stunned as anyone at this - apart
from Snout who, because of the lack of nets, was unaware of what had happened
and was heard to repeat several times in amazed fashion, "Did that go
in?" Unfortunately it did, Snouter. Soon after, another miracle almost took
place, as Phil was put clear down the right hand side. Nearing the BNU area, you
could just tell everyone was waiting for him to stuff up yet another golden
opportunity, but he somehow held his nerve to scuff a shot past the keeper. Time
stood still as the ball slowly dribbled toward the goal, only to hit the post
and stop dead. Speaking of the big-nosed slaphead, one of his later defensive
headers resulted in a thwack of such magnitude as to probably be heard all the
way over in Island Bay.
BNU
were certainly not out of it and soon after, their thuggish No. 8 turned Ross on
the edge of our box and advanced on Snout. From all of six yards from our gaping
goal - well, as gaping as a goal can be with Snout on the line - he hooked a
shot onto the post which we scrambled to safety. Clearly miffed by this, he was
then involved in three consecutive clashes with Chris, our silver haired OAP,
and subsequently went so far over the top as to give Chris a clout to the side
of the head. Referee Tims, the best soccer referee of Asian extraction in Owhiro
Bay (I think), was unsure if this was a dismissable offence, so, after
conducting a snap poll of both teams, awarded a throw-in to BNU, a decision
which is still regarded as slightly controversial in some circles.
The
second half was a bit more open. BNU strung together some good passing movements
but failed to play any telling balls into our area, with most efforts being
comfortably dealt with by the rock solid central defensive pairing of Tel and
yours truly. At the other end, another corner for us saw Lance totally
unchallenged five yards out and he powered home a header for his debut goal for
the Turts and a 2-0 lead. My faith in him had been rewarded, and personally I
like to think that my constructive and caring captaincy had brought the best out
of him. Two minutes later, he bloused off to the sideline with a dubious injury
never to be seen again. Git.
My
confidence in Lawrie had grown after his unusually excellent first half display
to the extent that I had shifted him to right back. Snout however lacked such
belief and eventually demanded a change of positions between Lawrie and G.T. Oh,
dear. Almost immediately G.T. was shown up by BNU's No. 8 who slammed a powerful
shot on goal, although comfortably within Snout's reach. One popular rendition
of the famous Sydney Harbour Bridge dive later and it was back to 2-1. This was
a bit of a setback after the number of chances we'd squandered, but our two goal
cushion was restored when a hopeful strike from Stevie gave their keeper the
chance to make Snout feel a bit better with an identical display of total
ineptness. 3-1.
Soon
after came one of the highlights of the match, as Stevie held up a ball on the
left and encouraged P.K. up from left back to overlap. A good two minutes later,
the podgy ex-St Pats Town 1st XV prop rumbled up on the outside and duly
received the pass. We continued to create further opportunities for the likes of
Frank, Ross, Chris, Big Si and Stevie, but the results of these were so dismal
as to provoke even the usually reticent Lawrie to complain about the appalling
quality of the finishing, thus saving me from having to contribute my customary
high quality advice to the culprits. An ultimately convincing victory was
rounded off by a challenge from Stevie which took him round the keeper to
sidefoot home for his hattrick and a 4-1 win to the Turtles.
Watching
Stevie accept the player of the day award in the Brooklyn pub after the game got
me thinking about how success and failure can rest on such small things as the
bounce of the ball or the opposition goalie's incompetence. And so, after a
short period pondering such considerations, I immediately resolved to announce
my retirement from the role of Turtles captain. Let's face it, if my success in
the position could entirely hinge on something as tenuous as the ability of a
totally talentless ginge to kick a ball straight, for God's sake, there was
clearly no long term future in it for me. I decided to get out while the going
was good...
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