This local derby against the other Karori Masters side was always going to be a good contest, but controversy hung around the Turtles line-up for the game like a dark cloud.

Due to the national club final being played at Newtown Park in the afternoon, our kick-off time was switched to 11:30, and this was the last straw for our midfield dynamo (of the last year or so), Murray Mc.

Matters had been simmering for several weeks. The quietly spoken star had been heard to complain about the way the team was being run, and that he wasn't happy with Wal's captaincy or Grunter's management. Quite what the problems were it was unclear, as nobody could get more than a few words and a couple of giggles out of him. But then, in last weeks Eastern News, it all came out. In an exclusive interview with the EN's ace sports reporter Frankie Zitt, Muzza spilled his beans:

FZ: "Why aren't you playing this week?"

MM: "I've had a temporary falling out with the manager."

FZ: "About what?"

MM: "Quite frankly, zitty, I'm fed up with the way this team is run. The training sessions are a shambles, the pre-match accommodation is shabby, and the captain and manager only turn up for games about once a month. This is not the sort of outfit I'm used to, in my previous clubs, like Wests, where I played one game for the first team (as a sub) in 1981."

FZ: "Aren't you getting a bit carried away, I mean, this is only Masters".

MM: "Only Masters!!!?? Are you nuts or something? The two teams above us in the table, Olympic and North Welly, have full training three times a week, a team bus, five-star hotels for away games, and Olympic get an oil change for their hair and sideburns from a sponsor before every game."

FZ: "Is it true that you have been caught shagging the wives of at least four of your fellow players, and have got Terry's sister pregnant?"

MM: "No."

FZ: "Oh, sorry then. What did you say to Mr Coppersmith when you raised your concerns last week?"

MM: "We only had a bit of a giggle. The press have blown it way out of proportion."

FZ: "But Mr Coppersmith told me that you abused him with words he didn't even understand."

MM: "He's a fucking liar."

FZ: "Can I print that?"

MM: "You do, and I'll kick your teeth in."

FZ: "Is that a threat, Sir?"

MM: "No, but this is..."

At this point the interview ended. Frankie Zit is currently recuperating in hospital with facial lacerations and a broken leg.

Following that interview, the press parked outside Murray's palatial Miramar residence, hoping for a sound-bite. All they got was a bite from Muzza's dog, a Border Collie-Pit Bull cross. At time of going to press, Turtle management had not yet discounted Muzza from their future plans, but in a prepared statement Grunter said:

"We regret the situation, but I'm the Boss, and no-one gets to talk to me that way and get away with it. I got all embarrassed. Really, I did. Didn't know which way to look. I have since told Murray that he is a very rude man, and he's welcome to open negotiations with other clubs. However, if he apologises nicely, and maybe gives me some flowers, then all is forgiven."

So under trying circumstances, the Turts took up the challenge. The above theoretical cloud was the only one apparent on yet another perfect Welly day. Comparisons with the conditions at the World Cup weren't far off, as the mercury soared to at least 16 degrees, with no wind. Karori No.1 had been cut close and was rock hard, so it was not unlike playing cricket on a Bombay backstreet in a heatwave, except for all the obvious differences. Captain Wal acted decisively with his squad before the game, and benched Telboy. The chiselled adonis just hasn't been the same since ownership of his testicles was signed over to The Family. He has been out reffing kids soccer in the early mornings, and rushes off after games to dress up as a clown for parties. This is exactly the sort of behaviour that saw off the career of Davey J.

The starting eleven were further rocked by the appearance of Spratty. He looked awful, and everyone present was thankful for the alcohol avoidance message tattooed across his forehead. Based on nothing in particular other than his own good mood, Gordie predicted a score of 7-2. And for the first ten that looked likely. The Turts put a lot of pressure on the oppo last third, often through the good work of Weasel and Wal out wide. But through a well organised defence the oppo survived that early pressure, and found a bit of attacking impetus down our left, where Weas and PK had their hands full with a couple of robust chaps.

By the 20 minute mark everyone looked knackered, the heat and fast pace of the pitch taking its toll. Stevie replaced the tiring father-of-three Weasel down the left, and soon after was presented with a shooting chance by a rampaging Gordie. Such was the shock at receiving a pass from the tight-fisted Scotsman within 30 yards of goal, that the chance was wasted. Spratty was running on memory by this stage, but refused to come off for a break. Along with Gordie and Daryl, he was setting up numerous shooting chances, but none were on target.

Our defence was getting the more work now, with several crosses coming in to cause difficulty. Si was dominating the air, and Dodge cleaned up. The abusive sweeper was carrying a cold, and hacked up nearly as many globs of mucus as he did insults in the first half. Chris covered the defensive midfield, and was impressively mobile. He even got angry on several occasions, when fellow Turts young enough to be his sons puffed and panted as he ran past. The guy is a medical marvel - there just has to be a chemical explanation for his level of fitness.

Halftime was a welcome break, and much to the relief of the lads Stevie had put in two sachets of Raro in the drink instead of last weeks one. Gordie pronounced it good, and, suitably revitalised, decided to take on a midfield role for the second half. This proved a good move, as he took the ball forward well, and also helped out with some rather solid tackling back. It also allowed Spratty to stumble around in a cloud of booze fumes without any real responsibility. The first good chance of the half came to this hollow shell of a man, and he scuffed it wide.

The first chance at the other end fell to Frankie, current Turtle but filling in for his former employers. For some reason he played very well for them, and questions will have to be asked at the next fine session. On receiving a ball in a tight situation inside our box he turned and curled a fine shot goalward, only to see it scuff away off the cross-bar.

Galvanised by the shock, Wal took matters into his own hands. He bustled down the right, beating two with a flash of his old speed, which appears from time to time these days. His square ball to Spratty in front of goal was spot on, and although the old soak did his best to miss, by scuffing his tap in, it was enough to wrong foot the keeper and the ball rolled gently in.

A short while later Weasel took a free kick about 25 out from goal on the left, but instead of chipping it in, he laid it wide for an overlapping Stevie, who put a low cross into the box. Gordie pounced, his first touch taking him clear of the defence and on to the keeper. The keeper did well to smother the initial shot, but as the two collided, the ball bounced away behind him. Gordie was lying on the ground, and as the ball rolled clear of the keeper he was able to swing a leg and lash into the net from a tight angle.

With a bit of a cushion now, the lads were playing some nice stuff, particularly with Tel coming up the left. He was looking his old self, until a hammy went ping, and it was back to the bench.

Our third goal was a repeat of the first goal, as Wal burst into life again out on the right. From the edge of the area he played it in towards goal, where three Turtles stood in a borderline offside position (to be diplomatic). Daryl was the recipient of Wal's work, but his finish was far from solid. From five yards out he toed it, but this was enough to leave the keeper sprawling. As the unfortunate custodian fell, the ball curled round his flailing hand, at about the speed of a gentle leg-break. If it hit net, it wouldn't have rippled it much.

Despite the goals, the oppo were still competitive across the park, but couldn't get close to goal, thanks to Si and Chris in the main. But they were finally rewarded with about 10 to go. An oppo midfielder collected out on the edge of our box, and headed inside. In front of him was Chris, who by this stage had done quite enough running for a gentleman of his years. As the (relatively) sprightly youth jinked away to set up a shooting chance, Chris let out a grunt that clearly said "well son, you can have this one, but 20 years ago I would have broken your leg and stamped on your hand for trying it on like that". The shot was adequate at best, but we won't go into why Snouter was beaten on his near post for the umpteenth time. Suffice to say that highly respected goal-tender only flys Business Class these days, due to economy seats being a bit of a squeeze.

The final whistle was welcome relief, as everyone rushed the water bottles. The waiting press on the sideline were keen for comment on the Muzza affair, but Grunter was mysteriously absent (again), and the captain cleverly side-stepped the issue with "I don't know what you're talking about".