May 22nd:
Turtles 7 (3) - Stop Out Black 0 (0)
By Chris "C.J." Taylor
The alarm went off and woke Fred with a start. “What the …. this is Saturday and
its only 6. Bloody woman can’t even remember to reset the alarm clock.” Fred
rolled over and his anger dwindled as he saw the beauty lying naked beside him.
Knowing she had to recover some ground VJ cuddled up and
whispered sensuously in Fred’s ear “maybe we could make use of this unexpected
hour?”
Fred ran his hands over her smooth flesh and squeezed the
firm rounded buttocks, then moved lightly and quickly up to a pair of firm
breasts. He felt her nipples harden to his touch and his ardour began to grow.
What the hell…. I am in no hurry and a quick session will set me up for the
day…thought Fred.
Fred began kissing VJ and slowly moved his lips down to
her melon shaped breasts. He felt her nipples react to the flick of his tongue.
She responded by pushing her thigh between his and the tempo quickened. Fred was
ready to jump on board when his memory flashed…. Saturday….the Turts are playing
the big match today. He jumped out of bed and said to VJ…”Sorry hun but cant
have sex before the big game this afternoon. I’ll go and sort the cows, can you
get me some breakfast?”
Fred got out of bed and after his usual 20 minute crap to
start the day dressed in his overalls. He strode to the hayshed and with ease
picked up a bale in each hand. He carried them into the paddock and split them
to feed the horse and the cattle. Still feeling a little frisky from the morning
start Fred athletically leapt on the horse’s back and took a short gallop around
the paddock before returning to the house feeling energised.
VJ had prepared the usual sausages, bacon, steak and eggs for breakfast. The
meal had only been bettered by the few meals Fred had eaten at the Green Parrot
during his youth.
The rest of the morning was taken up with usual chores
like drag racing the Ride-on lawn mower and pruning the roses however Fred’s
mind could not get off the big game this afternoon.
By 2.15 Fred was showered and had finished a steak
sandwich for lunch. He grabbed a Tui from the fridge and sprawled on the couch
with remote in hand.
The tele was running through the teams for the big game.
The surge of confidence he felt when they confirmed Snout was in goal was
quickly replaced by the surprise that the hairy Ginge was not going to play his
200th due to the very first sniff of a cold. “Ponce. He’s just trying
to avoid the shout.” thought Fred. “At least Spratty is playing for the first
time in a while. I hope he can move his knees to receive a pass; and the Tartan
Tadger…well some strike power at least”.
The camera ran around the crowded stadium and focused on
the packed main stand. The crowd must have been at least 15. The Turtles always
had a good following for away games. Then to the roar of the crowd the Turts ran
out from under the stand. With grace and confidence Snout lead from the rear
wandering out last and moving to the eastern goalmouth.
With the teams ready to start Fred couldn’t help noticing
that the Turtles back four looked larger than he remembered. Maybe the striped
shirts made then look bigger than they are….no that can’t be it as vertical
stripes make people look thinner.
The whistle blew and they were off. The Turts had first
use of the ball and used it with skill and flair. Not since the halcyon days of
the late 80’s had they played the total football that was starting to appear.
Suddenly the hectic start took its toll. Big Si crumpled as if hit by a 44. His
hammy was gone and so was he.
Fred was feeling confident and just waiting for the first
goal. It came in the 12th minute when the kilted one slipped free and
slotted a perfectly weighted ball though the gap on to the toe of ‘Chris…rhymes
with…’ on the edge of the box. The keeper was just off his line and paid the
price, watching a nicely judged chip fall into the net. 1-Nil, 1-Nil…..Fred sang
to himself.
The total football continued and in short time the left
midfielder weaziled his way to the by-line before dropping his cross perfectly
on the head of the Scot. 2-Nil, 2-Nil….The camera panned to Spratty who was
obviously thinking….”This is easy. I can handle this.” and used the wonderful
rolling sub rule that applies only to these big games.
Fred hadn’t seen Spratty run in several years and was
looking forward to watching him tear apart the Blackout team. He could sense the
goals that Spratty was about to add to his record tally. “Whaaaat?” No sooner
had he made his first walk toward the ball than there was Spratty clutching his
leg and hobbling from the field. Fred couldn’t help feeling that with two
injuries in 10 minutes the Turts must be over trained this year. At least Tel
was still in the game.
The rest of the half was a bit of a let down really. The
oppo provided no real competition and the camera at one stage caught Snout
leaning against the post, hands in pocket, playing his own game. Then the third
goal…. a rugby scrum in the goal mouth was cleaned up by the boot-swinging
screaming Scotsman. 3-zip
The second half began like the first, with magnificent
total footy. A move involving 23 passes and every player except Dodger, climaxed
with Wal rifling the ball into the top right corner from the edge of the box.
Then the Gordie Show began. First Zil scuffed a corner
but the dipper bounced enough to reach the near post where the kilted one nodded
it past the hapless keeper. Next the Tadger decided to play on his own and
waltzed around several players before taunting the keeper and finally running
around him to roll the ball into an open net.
Fred was into is sixth beer when Wal left his man
standing and rolled the ball across the top of the box for Gordie to slot his 5th.
“My god this is easier than I remember”… thought Fred. “Perhaps I should make a
comeback.”
The final whistle blew and Fred was pleased he had
witnessed a game played with the flair of the Turts of old. The post match
interviews were interesting. Snout was scathing of his team for not scoring 21
and not involving him in the game at all. The oppo, like the rest of the game,
didn’t show up.
Seven beers and a great win, Fred was ready to head back
to where the day started. “VJ…..where are you?”
Sunday…..Fred woke, looked at VJ and thought……sex or
paper? He raced to town to buy the paper. All he wanted to read was the reports
from the Turtles big night out. He was thrilled to see the headline which read
“Footy team tear town apart”. By the time he had read the front page and the
smaller articles Fred was disappointed. The front page was all about a couple of
Aussie League teams and the report on the Turts showed they were all too old and
gone home to bed early. Even Spratty, one of two who lasted the night, didn’t
toss a chair, break a window or get into a scrap.
They are all a bunch of old
married farts thought Fred as he put the paper down and looked lasciviously at
his wife.
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