OK. How to be upbeat and joyous about Saturday. You lose a game of footy one-nil. Not all that bad, especially after a couple of therapeutic beers in the clubrooms. At least the AB's would give those fekken Poms a stuffing. Carlos was on fire, and his goal-kicking would be fine. Oh, that isn't good. Having been at Twickers in '93 to hear 75,000 high-brow, jawless public school pratts sing Swing Low Sweet Chariot, the mere thought of losing to them brings on an anxiety attack, with a full case of the shakes and twitching muscles under each eye. Sitting at home watching it was of course topped off by "never mind" comments by female guests. In one of the darkest moments for an NZ male, there was at least the distraction almost immediately of watching the Warriors. Good job, looks like an entertaining win. Oh dear, lost conceding a jammy try with 48 seconds to go.

So, how is it that a reporter can lift the spirits of others, when his own have taken such a hammering. Ordinarily, a (some claim) drug-fuelled journey into the darkest recesses of a paranoid and delusional mind for a few thousand words would do the trick. But there has been a bit of feedback in the Turtle Lounge this week, bemoaning the lack of factual match descriptions. Funny how none of the people making comments in there give their names, apart from Blocker of course. And CJ. But he is, as we all know, irrelevant. Perhaps they are embarrassed to admit that they waste time in "chat rooms", a pastime surely designed by, and for, socially inadequate males whose private interests at best border on the illegal; at worst probably involve plastic toys and gimp suits.

Lets then look at the good points to come out of Saturday, and in so doing, we'll have to focus on the Turtles game only, as there is no redeeming features at all from the other two aforementioned sporting losses. To start with, the weather wasn't too bad for the time of year. Again. The light rain prior to kick-off stopped, and the wind dropped. The pitch was in good nick, having soaked up the rain from the week. The number of supporters at the start hovered just under the one mark, but, starting with Steph, who wandered across from her nearby mansion for a fag, the stand was soon filled with loyal fans. Don Langridge appeared briefly as the rain cleared, but wandered off at half-time, mumbling something about "cold" and "rugby". There was the happy laugh of frolicking children, as Murray's kids tried to emulate their beloved father on the sideline. In an elaborate role-playing game, one of them jogged slowly along with the ball, and the other trotted along beside, taking care not to upset the ball carrier. Their game became even more realistic later on, when, after hearing the Telboy - Steve Langridge second half tanty, they bantered back an forth..."Fuck off". "No, you fuck off". "No, no, you fuck off". And so on. Bobby arrived late, without his boots again. He claims to have offered his services, on the proviso that he plays "up front only". It is understood that Wal is still taking legal advice on that matter.

The pre-match gathering was buoyed by the news that Spratty, who had been dug up and wheeled out yet again, had during the week picked up a "dinner for ten" voucher in a charity auction. This outstanding act of generosity will be greatly appreciated by the Turtles, and we eagerly anticipate confirmation of the date. And this reporter would like to take this opportunity to take back most of the disparaging remarks made in these reports about Spratty over the years. And also pleasing was the heated shirts. This may have been a caring, thoughtful touch by PK, or a sign that he had completely forgotten to wash and dry them until memory and panic set in just before the game. But as we are being positive, we'll go for the former. As it was, the heated shirts were more than enough to secure PK the MoM award for the day.

Now, the game. Got to be careful here, and remain upbeat. Ah yes, Dodge got injured early on. After about five minutes, a pulled muscle or something. This re-united expectant fathers Tel and Si in the middle of defence. These two stalwarts are falling apart in different ways as their children rapidly approach the birth canal. Tel is a physical wreck, with some sort of hip-lower back thing threatening his football and gay-poncing-around-in-leather-posing-pouches careers. Si, conversely, is an emotional wreck, as he tries to cope with the bizarre mood swings of the lovely Kylie. Probably. Tel and Si, unlike Dodge, played on through their problems, and along with the two Steves, had plenty to deal with early doors. The oppo midfield were energetic in support of their front two. GT and Chris in the middle couldn't keep up with the runs, but tried hard. The main threat was the aptly named Sponge-Bob Square Pants, up front. When he got the ball near halfway, after about 15 minutes, with Si and Tel a.w.o.l., it was bad news. Stevie was designated to chase, but arrived just too late after a good effort. Snouter came out, using all his instinct and experience, but was beaten by a nice finish. (Note the positive spin on everything here).

Weasel and Wal out wide were our main attacking weapons, and they both delivered into Spratty when possible. Along with PK, Spratty played within his limitations, which are increasing each year. The finishing is no longer there, but he can still direct proceedings given the service. Several interesting crosses came in from the flanks, but little amounted, until a fluffed clearance fell to Chris, inside the box with the keeper stranded. PK was also handy, and screamed for the chance to open his Turtle account (after 70 odd games, it must be said). But Chris took the shot, placing it nicely just wide. Because of the amount of ground Chris covers, and his unfailing support for our forwards, Chris is often getting into these good positions, and his inability to convert is no worse than anyone else’s. Although that one was pretty high profile. Dispirited, the lads played the rest of the half in pretty shabby fashion. Stevie's aborted throw, which slipped, and presented the oppo with a promising attack, was typical of the errors. Murray couldn't make a pass, and Spratty got frustrated. Tel got clattered a few times, and was after that less of a help going forward. Snouter had several scares, mainly due to hesitant defending, but luckily the chances weren't taken, meaning it wasn't totally a lost cause at half-time. It was a gloomy mood though, as has been the case all too often this year. But good old SNO made a welcome return, and that old determination kicked in.

After surviving a bit of early pressure in the second half, the lads started to come into the game a lot more. Without subs, the oppo were slowing a bit, and less of a threat to our back four. This enabled Tel, and Si in particular to carry forward a bit. Wal attacked on the right, but was unfortunate to come up against Tosh, a defender with at least his equal in pace. For all his efforts, one hopes that Wal left a little in the tank for next week. Not the North Welly game, but a MS junket down in Queenstown. In addition to the usual cross-dressing shenanigans, apparently our much-respected leader will be cruising bars late at night with Pippi, on the lookout for chicks. Not for him, you understand, as he is happily married. Weasel and Stevie on the left found they had less and less defending work to cope with, and got up to deliver a few more crosses. One of these found Chris, his chest control down into the box just a foot away from giving him a clear shot. Spratty tried to orchestrate the attacks, giving Frank a few openings, and Murray, Chris and Wal also had half-chances, but a half isn't enough these days. Si actually had the closest effort, from 25 yards, just wide.

As the energy ran out, there just wasn't the panache, despite the dominance of territory and possession (no, I promise not to start drawing comparisons to the AB's) to get the equaliser. The oppo keeper, apparently called "Whale", had a few hairy moments, but had no actual saves to make at all in the last few minutes.

So, in summing up, it was an encouraging effort by the Turtles, and a lot of positives can be drawn from the performance of everyone who played. In fact, it was all happy, happy, joy, joy at the end, and we look forward eagerly to the trip to glamorous Alex Moore Park next week. The long-range forecast is for rain turning to sleet. Yeeha.