The Pieman has insisted that this match report draw comparisons between the game in question and the All Blacks v Aussie game that was played a few hours later in Christchurch. His initial suggestion was to start at the back, where both the Turtles and the AB's had a last line of defence called Chris (Cully for them, and Chris for us, standing in for Snouter, who was, ironically, down in Chch watching the other game).

Other offerings along this line could include our front row of Gordie and Lance, who stack up pretty well weight-wise against Feek and Somerville, and the wingers, Howlett and Ralph for the AB's, and at one stage PK and Lawrie for us. Well, maybe not there. Or how about the captaincy. Thorne is a guts and glory, lead-by-example guy, short on charisma maybe, but staunch and effective. Wal has relied more on his charisma this season. On Saturday he chose to play himself in the role of impact player, and after sizing up the conditions he decided his biggest impact would be as ref. This did indeed prove to be the case, as he made a couple of gutsy and influential decisions, that whilst infuriating the whinging element of the oppo, seemed fair enough. But more about those later.

While the player comparisons are starting to get silly, the conditions were in fact rather similar. Except for the rain. The Ben Burn pitch was a slippery bog, much like Jade Stadium, and the howling southerly felt like it had come all the way from the Port Hills. Any rain would surely have reduced the spectator count from 5 to nought. Special mention should be made here of Don Langridge, who popped up the road to watch despite the fact that neither of his sons were playing (Phildo still getting over the trauma of child-birth, and poor wee Steve (the Pieman) was too sick, the little dear, no doubt finding Welly in July a bit cooler than Botswana). Whether Don stuck around long enough to witness the greatest fight-back win in Turtle history is unclear, as he may well have snuck away for his Bovril and slippers by then. That would be a shame, as his loyalty deserves reward. Perhaps even some run on time later in the year.

Anyhoo, here is where the comparison to the Test collapses, because for it to hold up, the AB's would have had to come back from 40-10 down with 20 to go and win with a drop-goal in the last minute. Dead and gone at 4-1, the Turts kept it together to provide Gordie with the chances to win it. How did this bizarre series of events unfold, I hear you yelling at the screen, sick and tired of having to plough through yet another pile of meaningless irrelevance before getting to the action. Well, if you'll just be a little patient, all will be revealed. After a nice cup of tea. And a white chocolate kitkat. Ah, that's better, now, oh yes, the game.

This Brooklyn team was the one that had finished first in Div 2, and by some convoluted method now saw themselves playing off against the top 7 from Div 1. Go figure. They were unbeaten this year, so either there were quite good, or Div 2 was a lot weaker than Div 1. As it turns out there were quite good; intense in the tackle, solid at the back, and strong running up front. The Turts, with the wind in the first half, were lacking much forward impetus. Si and Murray in the middle were busy tracking and tackling, and little ball got up to Gordie and Lance. What ball they did get was well used by Lance, but Gordie was useless, and we later found out why. Doubting the game was on, he had gone and had a big lunch at Arizona, which probably included a couple of beers. And then when he did front up, he had the wrong boots. He slithered through the first half, and then made a topless half-time dash home for the long sprigs. Any cop stopping a podgy man in a jeep who spoke some strange dialect and wore nothing on the coldest day of the year would surely have called for armed backup.

Back in the real world, our defence was struggling with the running of their big forwards. Stevie was doubting the value of those sprigless track boots, as people ran past him at will. Tel and Dodge had plenty to chase, but it was more sloppy finishing that kept them out. Until the first goal. Stevie was rounded again, and as Tel approached the chap in the box, he slammed it near post. In the great tradition of Turtle keepers, Chris had left a gap there, and it was 1-0.

Our attacking was confined to the occasional thrust up the left. Weasel was looking sprightly, and Lance was always available for him up ahead. Lance must have been off somewhere having private training for the last couple of months, because his touch and turn in this game were remarkable. Although often receiving in tight situations, he seldom gave it away, indeed often releasing Weas down the line. From several of these movements corners eventuated, and from one of these our first goal came. Fittingly, Weasel took it, and Lance finished, a deft little flick on the near post that was cleared but from behind the line. Complaints centred on a/. the corner had crossed the line for a goal kick, and b/. the header had not actually crossed the line. Wal, reffing, was staunch and effective.

1-1 at half-time was a bit of a worry, given the wind strength, and even more so when Gordie disappeared up the road in a cloud of steam. Wal came on, Weasel went up front, and Dodge took up the whistle (somewhat eagerly). The first ten was tight though, with only minor scares at both ends, but then it all started. An oppo attack appeared to have been covered by Murray, and he hoofed clear, but two ricochets found two attackers by themselves on the far post: 2-1. A short time later another innocuous looking attack reached the edge of the area, and a meek little shot came in. Chris fumbled and it dribbled into the bottom corner: 3-1. The next attack up that end did indeed look dangerous, with Stevie and GT scrambling to cope. PK, who was ponsing around up on the left, correctly identified the need to close down the chap who had the ball 15 yards out with no-one in front of him. These orders were received and acted upon by Stevie and GT about 2 minutes too late: 4-1.

Now that all may sound like a sad commentary on Chris's keeping, but that is just not the case. No sir, not at all. He was excellent under difficult conditions, and may well have a new career for himself later on when he grows up and becomes a little more mature.

And it may also sound like one-way traffic. Not at all again. Once Gordie re-entered the game with proper boots on, our attacks gradually started to look more promising. Lance continued to be useful, and when the score was 2-1 he gave the perfect ball for a rampaging Lawrie to run on to in the box. Perhaps over-awed by his first ever shooting chance, he scuffed it wide. The little mechanic had a rousing game though, making a couple of tackles and covering a fair amount of ground up the right. When his tank was empty, he was replaced by Corey, a boyishly youthful middle-aged gentleman. Corey's pace and fitness were crucial during our comeback, as he carried the ball in several long runs, one of which provided the equaliser. But more on that later.

So why did it all change at 4-1? Si broke some ribs and went off, Tel also went down in a heap. The oppo sat back and had a laugh. Murray's enthusiasm was important, as he kept running, and got a lot more room in the middle to carry it forward. With about 20 to go, Gordie got a ball in from the left, swivelled just inside the box, and drilled it low for 4-2. It felt like a token response, but there were signs of discomfort in the oppo defence. They abandoned midfield altogether, and went into a Turtlesque siege. This allowed us to have a few numbers forward, and the left was busy. Stevie now had PK in front of him (Weasel having gone away to receive on the job training at centre-forward, centre-back, and centre-midfield in that order), and the latest Turt to turn 40 was full of it (running). The third goal came from this channel, but was made by Lance. He collected from PK, turned a defender and went to the line. His cross was extraordinary, an amazing piece of timing and precision given the conditions and the size of his belly. The keeper dived out to cut it off, but fumbled under pressure from Gordie, and it was 4-3.

Then Corey made a huge run up the right (a-la Wal when he is not reffing), and squared it for a clinical Gordie finish. 4-4. The oppo were now rather concerned, if not down-right flabbergasted. They had lost their puff, except for a few solo runs up front, and the Turts were now like a rampaging All Black forward pack (except for being old, slow and knackered).

Once more Gordie received on the edge of the box, and was clattered as he turned. The offending defender was now on the ground, as was the Tartan striker with the bald arse, but as Gordie tried to get up and continue, the defender pushed the ball away with a quick flick of his hand. It was an old trick that often eludes a ref, but not Wal; not today. He was staunch and effective. The free-kick was just on the edge of the box, and as the arguments continued, and the wall was organised, there was a mysterious rumbling from half-way - Dodge was moving forward. Quite why noone knows, but the smarmy tub of lard demanded the ball and prepared himself. The swirling wind seemed to hush for a moment as the elements paid due reverence to the moment. The match, indeed the season, hung on this event. Probably, maybe. Dodge ran up and his shot was perfect, curling the wall and on target for the corner. Surely the keeper was beaten, this was it, and Dodge would be the hero. Oddly, but mercifully, Gordie was in the road, got a bit of head to it, and deflected it into the roof of the net, the keeper stranded.

5-4. Phew. Bit of complaining by the oppo, but nothing too bad, and they turned out to be a nice lot, as they gave Gordie a beer, and then came back to the Turtle Lounge afterwards. Hope they enjoy the rest of the round. We probably won't, well, not next week anyway (Olympic).