By Carlos the Jackal
So I caught a ride with Dave and Mike. New bois. Fresh meat etc… I like this idea not only because the men were young but because I was captive and if they wanted a swifty after the game at the Fat Bird then how could I say no?
We pulled up and walked over to the pitch. Mike had also roped in Graham who rumour has it had a couple of knee replacements and something else replaced. Whatever it was – he looked like he could play centre mid so that’s where he went.
Roger was absent and rumoured to be at a dwarves conference in Dunedin. Sceatsey with some dog on a leash queried whether this was the Tall Dwarfs.
There was a bit of water about and the ball skidded in warm ups. The Turtles looked us over and we looked longingly at each other. Stenter showed up muttering about some association of whenever he played we lost...
Kickoff. They had nothing. Except a whistle which protected their keeper from our players. That corpulent declining Romanesque gent sent in a corner and Ignacio – variously termed Iggy or Taco – buried it in the back of the net with his pre-Cambrian dome. Gene tried a cross which turned into a shot and skidded – 2-0. Graham played box-to-box while the rest of us just dreamed of such a premise. Marky Mark had once lived box-to-box and his gaze now took in the ridgeline, angel’s tears and the Bombers on a good day.
Halftime and we had them by the proverbial nuttah kakes. And then the twist.
3-0 was maybe an own goal. The declining emperor sent in another on the dime... Graham and Jakkal had various contested claims on it – a slight touch on the head and then Gwad knows who or what it hit. Something about a belly…
Ragg boi had an altercation down the right...
"Die jakkals fok onder die boom’ (the jackals fk under the tree) to those who don't know Afrikaans and another Jakkal send a ball across that JB – dancing like the Judge out of Blood Meridian...got his foot to...Mmmm offah dah woodaverk...net bulging. That was 4-0.
End result was we was cruisin….
And then...Mmmm...bad things...Gyles showed up in pinstripes...we subbed and players rolled into unfamiliar positions...midfield turned into a hole with Graham on the side-line displaying his other knee brace replete with metal hinges... ‘a bit o metil’ ….they hit a good shot over Ross. 4-1. Then Danny scored his goal of season in a manner that only Zel could replicate. The 3rd a diving header.
We parked the bus. They had nothing. JB nearly scored with a bomb. Ignacio hit a volley that just went wide...DoC steamrolled one of em...these were minor incidents in Turtle’s demise. We flipped that sucker on its back and watched those stumpy little legs pumpin….
Tiberius muttered something about getting on the bike...Hansie looked like a man who placed one too many bad bets...
They had nothin and we had lard and beer at the Obese Chick. Newlands that wasteland of broken wet dreams beckons…. Roll on Wainui Pacifica..We are the UBER for those taxi drivers...the Great Went….