In a scandalous decision earlier this week, Soccer NZ at first decided not to award a place in their upcoming National League to fledgling Wellington franchise, Bolle Karori Turtles.

At a packed press conference at Soccer NZ headquarters in Auckland on Tuesday, chairman John Morris delayed questions until the complimentary buffet was all gone. After downing the last spring roll, and wiping his chin on the table clothe, Mr Morris pointed to Mark Sainsbury of One News for the first question.

MS: "Mr Morris, do you really expect the New Zealand public to believe that there has been no political tampering with this decision? Where are the Maori teams, and is it true that the application form of the Christian Heritage franchise was used as a place-mat for a particularly greasy pizza?"

JM: "Piss off Sainsbury. You've been at me ever since that gay team in Christchurch was banned. Someone throw this ponce out."

After Mr Sainsbury had been removed, and the commotion had died down, Mr Morris pointed to a small, thin man in a shell suit. The emaciated figure stood, and read nervously from notes:

AI: "Arthur Iremonger, sir, Jetplane Press. Mr Morris, can you please explain why the bid of Bolle Karori Turtles was declined."

JM: "Certainly, Mr Iremonger. We felt that the Turtle bid lacked business substance. Whilst their player strength was sound, they didn't seem to stack up in the balance sheet presentation. The sponsorship backing from Bolle Sunglasses and Lion Nathan was impressive, and two pairs of sun glasses for every player and supporter was fair enough, but 1500 dozen beers for the entire season just didn't stack up, especially since we heard that Spratty was threatening a come-back. Also, the proposal to have topless cheerleaders at home games was not the sort of image we are trying to portray for this league right now. Not this year anyway."

AI: "Thank you, sir, I appreciate your answer. But can I just ask another question?"

JM: "Sure, fire away."

AI: "I have here photographs of yourself and NZ Soccer CEO Bill MacGowan being spanked by a large leather-clad woman, in a motel room in Papatoetoe. My question is this: will you reconsider the Turtle bid in exchange for these photo?"

At this point Mr Morris leant over to Mr MacGowan and spoke in whispers for a moment. On straightening up, Mr Morris coughed lightly, and leant forward into the microphone.

JM: "In light of these recent developments, we would like to announce that the bid of the Napier City franchise has been declined on the grounds of accounting irregularities, and that the Bolle Karori Turtles will take their place in the upcoming National League. That is all; the press conference is now over".

Several minutes later in the sumptuous downtown Welly offices of the Bolle Karori Turtles, CEO Snouter put down the phone and gave out a satisfied sigh.

"That will be all, thank you Mandy".

Snouter's buxom PA crawled out from under the expansive mahogany desk, adjusted her surgically-enhanced bust and dabbed both corners of her mouth with a tissue.

"Will there be anything else today, Mr Coppersmith?"

"No, you can go home now. Just tell Grunter I want to see him".                                      

"Sure. See you at the airport tomorrow morning".

Mandy left Snouter's office, collected her bag and coat from the desk out in the foyer, and headed for the lift. The first office on the right down the corridor had a "Do not disturb" sign on the door, but Mandy knocked anyway. The giggling inside stopped abruptly, and a gruff voice called out "Who is it".

"Just me, Mr Coppersmith. Your brother wants to see you right away".

"OK, thanks. That's it girls, the party's over".

There was a brief flurry of unmistakable noises from behind the closed door. Mandy heard a few zips, and a chair being knocked over, and then the door opened.

Grunter appeared, looking rather flushed. He stood aside to usher out his two assistants, Candy and Sandy.

"Can I give you two a ride?", said Mandy.

"You bet", said Sandy. "The Boss is a good figures man, but there's still some double-entry work unfinished, if you know what I mean?"

"Right, first stop Woolworths, then my place. Seeya Grunter".

Three fifths of administrative staff of Bolle Karori Turtles linked arms and headed for the lifts, whilst the General Manager went off to meet his brother.

"Iremonger just called", began Snout. "The franchise is sorted. Let all those other sponsors know that it's in the bag."

"Good. Now just to run through them again. Ford, Prestige Homes, Air NZ, Mike Pero Mortgages and Sheraton Hotels. And what about Raro?"

"Yeah, why not. The players may as well get something. So, get the girls on to it. I want those sponsorship deals signed and sealed by next Friday."

"Candy has the painters in at the moment, we'll have to work around that".

"Fine", said Snouter, "she can handle the oral presentations instead. I'll get a team on the park for Saturday, and give me an update on your stuff on Monday. OK?"

"Gotcha. Any problems with numbers this week".

"Nope, all sorted. Could be a worry the week after, with a few away, but who cares - by then we'll be rolling in it".

So the Turtles turned up at Wilton Park on Saturday buzzing with news of the franchise deal. It was long overdue recognition for years of earnest endeavour in the journeyman leagues of Welly soccer. Come October, the Turtles would be fronting up in the national league. First class travel, top hotels and some of the country's best grounds. Everyone could leave their dreary middle-management jobs and become what they were destined to be - professional footballers. Or so they thought.

Snout was in an unusually jovial mood as he called the lads together before kick-off: "OK lads, I know you're all excited about the national league, but we've got Masters Two to worry about first. So get out there and show the press what we're made of. GT and Danny on the bench, the others just scatter".

With the assistance of a stiff breeze, the Turtles did indeed look national league material in the first period. After the initial sorting out and rushing around, there was room out wide for Stevie H and Weasel on the left, and PK and Stevie L on the right, to move forward and pump balls into the middle. Gordie was collecting and slowing it down, laying off passes and generally being helpful. Wal, on the other hand, had trouble getting into the game. On his first outing of the season, the former skipper showed a bit of rust around the edges. It wasn't until the second half, when he got his runs up the right going, that he began to look his old self.

But back to the first half. Si and Tel pressed forward, and Murray and Chris covered. There was a bit of defensive scrambling to be done, as Island Bay had two old codgers of skill and composure in the middle, and when in possession they fed their sprightly young thoroughbred up front. This chap gave us no end of problems when he ran with the ball at toe. He had long pony legs and no little skill, and it was generally Big Si who had to make the tackle as the rest of the back four were run around. It was with great relief that we applauded him off the field with calf strain half-way through the second half - when will these silly young things learn about stretching and Deep Heat?

But again, back to the first half. In goal for Island Bay was former Turtle (and Olympian) Richard Duncan. Richard had apparently got fed up with the pathetic whinging of Olympic and defected to the highest bidder. This was not good for us, as he denied Gordie several times early doors with excellent saves. As well as keeping goal, Richard kept a running commentary going, calling out encouragement for good play by either side. This all went a bit quiet though, when GT came on and scored.

The front runner for Asian Turtle of the Year was making his season debut, and had curiously been sent up front to partner Gordie. Heads were still shaking as Muzza trotted away down the left to collect a hopeful long ball. The jury was still out as Muzza's cross came near post. And there was still doubt, even after GT met the cross with a flick that went in off a defender. The back four selection committee were on the point of adjudicating on the matter ten minutes later when Gordie chipped over a delightful ball to GT, who scuffed in a toey, again off a defender, for his second. In fact, the debate was still raging until GT's third late in the second half, but more on that later.

The final act of the first half was another episode in the long-running soap opera that is PK's duck. Twisting and turning like a disco assassin, and leaving defenders for dead on the left, PK lined up his favoured right bootie and fired, high and long. Only one keeper in Masters Two could have saved it. Just a shame it was Richard, diving back to tip over.

2-zip was OK at the turn, but not at all comfy turning around into the wind and the slope. Although Si assured us that they were tiring. (This announcement was delivered from a prone position on the ground as he gasped for breath).  

The momentum was certainly different at the beginning of the second half. There was plenty of scrambling around at our danger end. New boy Danny, who has appeared from nowhere, had a few big chases down the right, and put in some saving tackles. On the other side, Stevie H and PK worked some moves to get out of trouble. Weasel had grabbed a centre spot while Muzza took tea and scones on the sideline. The Zil played like the weight of brotherly comparisons had been lifted (for the day), as he rushed around, harried and hustled, turned and passed like he'd been in the middle all his life. Nothing like a morning at Staglands to invigorate the soul. Wal got a few runs going, and was glad of the oxygen tent that was stationed up by the right flag. Snouter had a couple of saves to make before we got the clinching goal. Steve L fed PK up ahead of him, and like Travolta without the white suit, PK shook his hips, thrust forward, and sent Gordie into ecstasy. Or at least through on goal. The Tartan Tadger, stung by being over-shadowed by GT, rounded a defender and then the keeper to open his account. Five minutes later PK again gave it to Gordie just how he likes it, in from the left, and it was 4-zip. 

By now there were people everywhere. The oppo's main attacker was gone, so Si and Tel

wandered around looking for someone to love them. Chris took up station at the back, and no-one really noticed when Tel, and then Si limped off. It was all getting a bit ragged, until GT stamped class all over it with 5 to go. Gordie skipped around a few up on the right of the box, and gave GT the ball with only the keeper to beat. GT paused, and thought about it all for a moment. To receive a pass from Gordie inside the box is unusual, so to stuff this up wouldn't have been too bad a crime. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the inevitable scuff wide. As Richard approached him, GT put down his cup of tea, wiped up his mess, and slotted his hat-trick bottom corner. The experiment of putting up front was finally lauded as a success.

Pretty much the last act was Snouter smothering a 2-on-1. The look on his face was that of a man who knew his plans were falling into place. Him and his brother had the soccer fraternity of NZ dancing to their tune. Come October, the so-called new national league would be crushed by an unstoppable juggernaut. The world will come to know and fear the name. Coppersmith.