April 26th: Turtles 0 (0) - Tawa Vets  1 (0)
by Darrin "Zil" Wilkinson

WARNING: The following match report contains deranged thought processes, gratuitous name-dropping, sweeping generalisations, and abuse. It is intended for mature audiences.

I went to a party last week. It was going quite nicely for a while: good company, great food, fine wine, and then the inevitable happened – the dancing started. I’m not a good dancer. In fact, not many straight males are. A quick poll of the Turtles revealed similar sentiments. Snout announced he had to be ‘really, really pissed’ to dance. Thankfully for all concerned, that does not happen often. Spratty declared he danced only at the paralytic stage, although he later admitted he "danced every day, usually from about noon onwards". Wal, the lone exception, professed a love of dancing, but only with a banana stuffed down his pants. As you do at Microsoft parties.

Anyway, after suffering through several Ricky Martin songs, I had an urge. No, not that one. It was an urge to practice my golf swing. So I did (it was a slice). I enjoyed it though, and kept swinging (figuratively and literally) to the music. Suddenly the dancing wasn’t so intolerable. For Ricky I had the driver out and was aiming directly at the stereo. Robbie Williams demanded a gentler swing, so I practiced chipping out from under trees with the wedge. This got me thinking: why doesn’t someone (like me) invent dance routines for unwilling participants based around sporting themes? Brilliant! Line dancing could be replaced with synchronized golf shots. Or badminton, squash, wood chopping, you name it. I know this is exciting news for the readers out there, and rest assured, I’m on to it. There are a few minor details to work out, for instance the aesthetics of left-handers playing with right-handers, or arguments over club selection with the caddies (another exciting innovation). I should have the dance steps and sheet music ready for my next match report, which I must say is looking increasingly remote based on the first two paragraphs.

Apart from dance routines, Turtles soccer has occupied most of my thoughts lately. A two game absence due to Fiji commitments had me pining for the pastures of Happy Valley and Onepoto Park. I couldn’t stop thinking about the Turtles. Every time I saw an Asian at the resort I thought about GT, our greatest ever unemployed right back of Asian extraction. At the pool bar I chatted with Simon Daubney, ex-Team New Zealand and now Alinghi crewman. It made me think of Gordie, our very own defector. Lounging by the pool was Doug Catley, Karori cricket and Old Boys-University rugby benefactor. I said hello straight after he learned of OBU’s 22-6 defeat against Avalon. "Can’t talk now mate, I’m a bad loser", he grumped. Ahh, how was Dodger getting on, I wondered? One gentleman with a particularly hairy back turned my mind to Stevie "Wolfman" Hambleton, our regular match report writer and owner of possibly the hairiest back ever to grace the Turtle team (with honourable mentions also to Durry and Bobby). The Wolfman was enjoying a holiday of his own in Nelson, making me suffer through another match report. I needed his advice, but there were also some hard questions to be asked, and I was determined to track him down on my return to Wellington.

I’m happy to report my mission was successful, and I located Stevie in an Internet chat room, operating under the pseudonym ‘Ginger Rogerer’. A transcript of the conversation follows:

TT: "Thanks for agreeing to speak to Turtle Trivia today, Ginge."

GR: "That’s Ginger, you fekker. And I’m not happy you found me here. I’m on a two week holiday to get the creative juices flowing for my next match report."

TT: "Ah yes, the holiday. Another NZ Post holiday home, I presume?"

GR: "Damn right. We’re on a mission to stay at every one of ‘em in the country. Only Invercargill, Bluff and the Chathams to go."

TT: "Saving the best for last I see. When do you plan to knock them off?"

GR: "Not in any hurry, to be honest. PK spends most of his leisure time down that way and raves about it, but the smelter tour and seashell house don’t really appeal."

TT: "Highlights and lowlights of places you’ve been so far?"

GR: "Well, Turangi is the perennial favourite. Palmerston North was an armpit. Petone wasn’t much better. Still, it was nice to get out of town for a few days."

TT: "Pleasantries aside, have you ever considered a back wax?"

GR: "What sort of queer cnut gets a back wax?"

TT: "Indeed. Forget I asked. I really wanted to ask you about your daughter Niamh. How do you pronounce that?"

GR: "NEEM. It’s Irish, like Siobhan."

TT: "SEE-YOW…"

GR: "SEE-O-BAN. People who can’t speak Irish piss me off."

TT: "Getting back to Niamh, the question is, well, you see, she’s blonde. And pretty."

GR: "Are you accusing me of being unfaithful?"

TT: "Not at all. It’s just that ginge is the dominant gene. She’s also right-handed. I was wondering if Brad Pitt ever slept over?

GR: "Not that I recall. Admittedly, Bernie and I were both a little surprised by Niamh. Ladbrokes were offering odds of millions to one for a blonde right-handed daughter. They increased it to a billion to one when I told them she was being raised Catholic. In hindsight, I should have put a quid down."

TT: "A true miracle, to be sure. How did you feel?"

GR: Like Forrest Gump when he found out his son was normal. Hang on a minute, aren’t you a left-footer with a Catholic wife?"

TT: "Moving right along, what are your thoughts about the upcoming game against Tawa?"

GR: "We should be OK as long as Spratty and Sean control the midfield, with Gordie and Daryl shooting away with gay abandon. No problems, three points in the bank."

TT: "Except that none of those players will be there."

GR: "Then you’re screwed."

TT: "Thanks. Any advice about reporting on the game itself?"

GR: "Keep it brief. The punters aren’t that interested in the detail. Works for me."

Well punters, we lost. Tawa were an unknown quantity for the Turts – two big wins followed by a big loss. The team we assembled on Saturday to play them bore little resemblance to the squad named back in March. Injuries, unavailabilities, defections, marital break-ups… the signed notes presented to cub leader Wal during the week were too numerous to mention here. Two new players were introduced to this writer – probably Geordies, as I couldn’t understand a word they said. Wal assured the lads they were Italian, but suspicions remained. Especially Massimo (Mo) – that Italia ’90 tracksuit was a little too obvious, and most likely stolen.

We competed well in the first half. Lance, Roberto (Bob) and Wal caused problems up front, with Wal in particular setting alarm bells ringing with his pace. Tawa had the best opportunity of the half though, with a dangerous cross producing a weak header straight at Snout. Our back four was resolute, and remained so even after PK pinged his hamstring. The game was lost in the first twenty of the 2^nd half. Shortly after GT remarked that it should be a quieter half with the wind at our backs, he was dispossessed and Tawa almost scored. They dominated from that point, with several near misses. One attack ended with a goalmouth melee. The ball dribbled invitingly along the goal line for several seconds, with three Tawa attackers politely declining the goal on offer. Eventually the pressure told, and they scored from close range. We competed well in the last twenty-five minutes, and almost snatched an unlikely point when Chris hit the crossbar from a free-kick.

The Turts defended stoutly (how else) throughout, none more so than Tel, our deserved MoM. GT was the unanimous TIT, although two woeful defensive blunders by this writer (one of which Pieman deflected against an upright) merit a special mention. Frank had his best game for the Turts up front. After the game Mo and Bob continued their mystifying conversation on the trudge back to the changing rooms. I was almost prepared to believe they really were Italian, until I distinctly heard the words ‘Sunderland’ and ‘Newcastle’. Then they started fighting. Geordies.

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