“C U @ BSHP L8R”

“OK. DNT WR UNDYS”

 A pretty innocent TXT exchange you might think, but getting there had earned me a million quid, international infamy and the wrath of Beckingham Palace.  You see, I just love those well-hung Manchester boys and I’d been after him for seasons.  And he would soon be mine.  LE would have no answer to my bi-sexual guile.  Spratty was in for the ride of his life.

 It hadn’t been easy to get him to this point.  He had even resisted me when he was going through his marriage break-up and was sleeping in the back of his car.  But I was a true Turtles fan and I just had to have him.  I thought my lewd stories of girl on girl action with Pippy Pornstar would sway him, yet he continued to resist me.

Finally I hit upon what would put him over the edge.  Jealousy.  I’d make a big play for the other Manchester show-pony and make sure the whole world knew.  Spratty has been trying to get one over on Becks for years.  If the old-green-eyed-monster wouldn’t get him then nothing would.

 So I saved all the number 7’s TXT’s, let the News of the World do its stuff and waited a bit.  Then last week I got back in touch with the one who is ‘short and round and (really) worth a million pound’:

“U R THE # 10 4 ME”

“MY NPLS R ROK HRD 4 U”

I was quids in.  And it was all going to happen in an exotic location.  The Turtles were away to second placed Eastbourne at Bishop Park.

I got there early.  The Turts arrived, but no Spratty yet. That’s OK, I thought, he’ll be along a bit later.  He’s always been a bit timid, you see.  The Turts were none too pleased though to find no unlocked changing rooms and that they’d have to strip in public.  I purred like a cat with cream, but was less than impressed with ‘the lower view’.  It wasn’t until I started snogging the oppo’s ‘pretty blonde in the crop top’ on the sideline that things started to look up for the lads.

The toss was sorted out in a gentlemanly fashion by the oppo – “you guys choose” – and we were off.

My beloved Turts got a bit of a scare early when the ball was played through to the oppo’s centre forward – a real Trevor Richards look alike with a beaut walrus moustache (as I write this I am all wet just thinking what he could do with that!).  He put in a good turn and strong shot.  Perhaps this would prove to be the team that would keep the Turts in Masters 2.

However, the league leaders soon got underway.  The ball was played in from the left to GT.  His first touch was deft and the ball was placed across the front of the 18 yard box.  Wilkinson the Younger was there to meet it and blasted it low past the keeper.  1 - nil.

Gordy arrived at the park a little late (had he brought Spratty with him??? NO!!!!.  Where is he???) but was soon in the action.  Zil found himself deep over on the right – definitely not his comfort zone.  His defender was overplaying him so using his left to cross just wasn’t going to happen.  So he put a turn in and delivered one with his right, a never-before-seen play, and amazingly it floated perfectly to the Tartan Tugger’s head.  Zil’s never-before-seen play was a hint of greater things to come, but more of that later.  Gordy was unmarked.  He somehow got himself air borne and got some (not inconsiderable) weight behind the header.  It soared majestically over the cross bar.  Surely the great Gordy wouldn’t become yet another Turtle BHOA? 

He soon answered the question.  After a corner there was a goal mouth scramble that looked like a giant pinball game.  The ball finally fell to our favourite Scotty and he poked it in.  He claimed both an assist and the goal – but just why was never clear.  This too was a hint of greater things to come, but more of that later.  2 – nil.  The Turts were now confident.

What followed was a sublime period of classic Turtle football on a beautiful day at a seaside resort.  Lots of one touch passes and running into space saw the ball flowing effortlessly, again and again, towards Eastbourne’s goal.  It really looked liked flowing Brazilian possession football.  Of course, during this classic 15 minute period there was not one shot on goal!  So it was pretty much like sex with Becks – lots of style and emotion, but ultimately pointless … unless Spratty turned up.  What is keeping him?

“I WNT U DPLY”

“I’M CMNG, I’M CMNG”

Even the-just-out-of-retirement Boy was showing silky skills.  Of course, he was flush with success as he had just won the men’s singles final at the Kilbirnie Tennis Club.  He had shifted there to get out from under another former Turtle, the exotically-named Oscar, at the Wellington tennis club.  “If you can’t beat ‘em … move” explained Boy.  Good to see the old boy him brimming with confidence though.  The whole team was basking in his success.

Snouter’s half time talk was pointed.  “The game’s not over” (pretty bleeding obvious).  And then he looked at them with his sternest face and said the Three Key Words: “no goals against”.

So the Turts went into the second half terrified that they’d give a goal away and incur his wrath.  But it never looked likely.  The oppo put in 1 or 2 shots but Snouter was more than their match.  The game became safe (though let’s not forget ‘the BNU phenomenon’) when Zil, this time from the comfort of the left, delivered a lovely cross to Gordy’s head.  He was determined to make up for the earlier miss and this time placed it wide of the keeper.  Very nice indeed.  3 – nil.

It was time for the inevitable Turtles injury.  This time to Wilkinson the Younger.  Glenn stretched out for a bouncing ball and ‘ping’ went the hammy.  That was the end of him, probably for a while, and the next time he pulls on the old magpie strip he’ll probably be a father.  Oh how I love those happy families.

And then it happened.  It had taken an awfully long time, but the moment was here … a bit like Dodge losing his virginity.  PK was playing in his 72^nd game (count them …. S-E-V-E-N-T-Y T-W-O) for the Turtles.  Up until now he had ‘not troubled the scorer’.  But today would be different.  He would finally get the monkey off his back and avoid being a constant source of amusement for bored Turtles sitting in their drab work cubicles.  His dreams of billowing out the ‘back of the old onion bag’ would finally be realised …. Sort of.  A pass up the left saw our man of the moment with space.  He pushed forward towards goal and saw GT with space on the right.  He knocked it through.  Amazingly this little push pass had enough momentum to get to the keeper and actually go between his legs.  Time then stood still.  The ball continued to roll S-L-O-W-L-Y towards the open goal.  A local ant colony set up home on it as it trickled onwards.  And then GT had an agonizing decision to make.  Do I

1. Smack it into the back of the net now?  Claiming a goal and giving the assist to PK.
2. Wait until it inevitable stops short of the line, and then bang it in?  Ditto.
3. Leave it and see if it trickles over?  Giving PK both the assist and the goal (a destiny foretold by Gordy earlier).

He chose ‘c’.  A decision that must surely have sewn up TIT for him at the fines session later.  God only knows what PK will need to do to repay GT’s act of kindness, but I could make some suggestions.  TKE OUT HS DK & GVE IT A GD LNG SCK.  4 – nil.

PK is off to run a marathon next week.  He will now have a sense of purpose and self belief.  His 6hr 30m goal should be a doddle.  Also in the marathon will be another current Turtle, Tim Main.  I would defy any trainspotter to come up with a stat for when two Turtles last ran marathons in the same season … let alone the same day.  What is happening to our favourite lads?  I detect a rash of mid life crises.  And I know just what to do about those.  U BLW HBY & THN CSH IN.

Time for another injury break.  This time to Berny from the oppo.  He had been causing a bit of trouble out left so it was good to see him take a tumble and roll his ankle.  Even though he was an old school chum of Wal’s.  There is no place for sentimentality in Masters Div 2. 

So the game was basically over – not even the Turtles blow a 4 goal lead with 10 minutes left.  But the passion was still going.  Murray was relishing being the strong man at the back of the defence for a change and started dishing it out to our friend from HART and the ponsy number 11 who was sporting a bit of a Becks haircut.  Wal said that he was too, but somehow his ‘number one’ doesn’t look like the one my Becks once had.  There was a bit of retaliation from the oppo but things calmed down when the ref reminded them all that a beer was only 10 minutes away.

And speaking of Wal, he finally decided to put a bit of a run in with just a few minutes left.  He found himself in space (isn’t Masters 2 great!) and headed towards goal.  After about 30 metres he was out of puff and centred to Chris Lavis (rhymes with Davis) unmarked in the middle.  He scuffed it with a shot that made PK’s look like a blistering rocket and the goalie awarded him the BHOA prize for the week.

And that was it.  Full time.

And Spratty never showed.

“SRY LUV – STL AT THE 19^TH”

And so the Turts now prepare for next week’s game.  Secure at the top of the table, and up against the bottom (JST THE WY U LKE IT).  Also in another exotic location … Weka Park on the sunny Kapiti Coast. 

I wonder what I can do to get my favourite number 10 along to this one … perhaps I should tempt him into a hot tub with Pippy Pornstar and I.  Maybe a hot photo of her will swing him???