Sandman
Well-known member
Obvious Squirrel presents - Part 2 (continued from Part 1, astonishingly.)
CALMAC - 6/10
Not tweaking at all. Not turning or finding the killer ball. A split-second off-key and playing a lot without that
half-turn he'd perfected from watching Zidane. He will come good again, but got out of jail today after failing to magic up something special to win us the game.
CHRISTIE - 6/10
Forayed and forayed and ran up cul-de-sacs. Almost nailed a header second-half, made a mess of a free-kick gift when it looked like that was one of our only hopes. Not getting the luck with his timing and energy at the moment but we've seen that happen before with Armstrong and young Corpus has more grit about him to get through it and come good for the run-in.
FORREST - 5/10
Just up the road from his flashing grounds, Jamesy employed more sleight of groin in North Ayrshire's
most affluent midden, but they had him corralled. No space at all for him to even get up a head of steam; such a tight expanse of prefabricated plastic surface offers Jamesy's pace little outlet.
SINCY - 5/10
Reverted to dropping deep and picking up balls in non-threatening positions. Poor delivery to his dancing feet
all game - everything seemed delayed and imprecise; almost a given now when we play at Rugby Park.
FRENCH EDDY - 5/10
Tangled up by goons and offered no service aside from some intricate edge-of-box play to carve openings.
We failed miserably to play to his strengths or support him in any way. The French have a term for the notion
of playing football at Kilmarnock; it's know as 'l'ennui.'
SUBS -
WEAH - 7/10
The First Lady of Liberia was in the stands to watch her boy's scintillating cameo. Came onto the park,
didn't get a touch for ten minutes then tore them up.
Almost scored when he should have squared. And at full-time got involved in verbals with Killie racist
farming prodigy, Coo Clucks (aka Jordan Hun Jones - surprise, surprise, Slippy G's rent-boy gets involved),
which facilitated white slave-trader descendant Boaby Madyin (of course he is, legally-anxious pedants) to book a black man in front of a notary of the African country his great-great-granpappy used to steal human beings
from and sell them to American plantations (of course he did, legally-anxious pedants).
All the above I heard was fact from a guy in the pub. Or on the interweb.
Accompanied by her daughter, the first Lady of Liberia - bless her for her dynamic offspring - is known for
her benevolent visits to rancid outlying villages with little or no sewage systems and a culture based on
witchcraft and sacrificial rituals. She also visits underprivileged towns in her home country, too...
BURKE - 7/10
Big Snatch resurrected the ghost of Samaras with a lung-bursting run down the wing that deserved more than the outcome.
He's like a rear-view mirror - an object a lot bigger than he first appears and is at least giving us a good shift
in return for the stolen jersey he'll give up come June. Fair enough.
BAYO - N/A
Big SOAG - acronym fans, you got it - looked well up for it and could have bagged a legendary start in the footsteps of many Celtic-career failures before him if Timo had squared for an open goal in injury-time. But he was spared the curse and we wait until he gets a decent hit at it for judgement to weigh.
BR - 6/10
Is he lucky? I've asked previously. Fuuuuck yeeeeeeeaaaaaassss! Screamed a million Tims on the 90th minute as
Captain Marvel smackeroonied in a winner contrived of ricochets from the Roadrunner cartoons that ended with the ACME dynamite explosion in the away end (one of two, cos Killie is a shitey Hun supporting town...).
Abject refusal to change his system until the utter death when big Son Of A Gun made his debut. Once again he
nearly - neeeeaarly - came unstuck against Stevie Clarke (next Celtic manger - watch this space, kids...)
at Kilmarncock but this time fortune favoured the brave-ish.
OVERALL - PHEW/10, or 7.
I hate the place. And so do the Celts.
Yet, a team game is reduced - as it often is on occassions like that, on a pitch like that - to a game of individual
moments; Broon, who bleeds the Hoops, and bleedin' Boyata who needn't be at the Hoops.
We shall repeat the glorious moment as attempted above with Broon, in more glorious exposition of those two dichotomous players -
One playing the perfect professional, fulfilling his contractual obligations to the best of his abilities, knocking
down to tee-up the winner for one playing the odds - on a booking - and playing with his heart like a demented berserker, raging onto the knock-down with a determined blinding fury, a single thought only - to smash the ball into the face of the Killie bastard that dared to challenge him...
Luckily, aforementioned Killie bastard - Bruce - threw an arm up to defend himself from Broony's tango size-5 assault and deflected the leathery balloon weapon, skittering it along the ground into the net to the astonishment of many.
Well, everyone. Except historians...
It was already Arthutrian lore:
'And the captain plunges the emerald dagger into the black hearts of the undead everywhere, and the skies open in anticipation of the return of the coming sun to banish the armies of darkness.'
So, yeah, we pull it out the mire, and Rugby Park can fuuuuuuck right off for another season. Thank Ghod.
Onwards and Eightwards.
Sandman out.
CALMAC - 6/10
Not tweaking at all. Not turning or finding the killer ball. A split-second off-key and playing a lot without that
half-turn he'd perfected from watching Zidane. He will come good again, but got out of jail today after failing to magic up something special to win us the game.
CHRISTIE - 6/10
Forayed and forayed and ran up cul-de-sacs. Almost nailed a header second-half, made a mess of a free-kick gift when it looked like that was one of our only hopes. Not getting the luck with his timing and energy at the moment but we've seen that happen before with Armstrong and young Corpus has more grit about him to get through it and come good for the run-in.
FORREST - 5/10
Just up the road from his flashing grounds, Jamesy employed more sleight of groin in North Ayrshire's
most affluent midden, but they had him corralled. No space at all for him to even get up a head of steam; such a tight expanse of prefabricated plastic surface offers Jamesy's pace little outlet.
SINCY - 5/10
Reverted to dropping deep and picking up balls in non-threatening positions. Poor delivery to his dancing feet
all game - everything seemed delayed and imprecise; almost a given now when we play at Rugby Park.
FRENCH EDDY - 5/10
Tangled up by goons and offered no service aside from some intricate edge-of-box play to carve openings.
We failed miserably to play to his strengths or support him in any way. The French have a term for the notion
of playing football at Kilmarnock; it's know as 'l'ennui.'
SUBS -
WEAH - 7/10
The First Lady of Liberia was in the stands to watch her boy's scintillating cameo. Came onto the park,
didn't get a touch for ten minutes then tore them up.
Almost scored when he should have squared. And at full-time got involved in verbals with Killie racist
farming prodigy, Coo Clucks (aka Jordan Hun Jones - surprise, surprise, Slippy G's rent-boy gets involved),
which facilitated white slave-trader descendant Boaby Madyin (of course he is, legally-anxious pedants) to book a black man in front of a notary of the African country his great-great-granpappy used to steal human beings
from and sell them to American plantations (of course he did, legally-anxious pedants).
All the above I heard was fact from a guy in the pub. Or on the interweb.
Accompanied by her daughter, the first Lady of Liberia - bless her for her dynamic offspring - is known for
her benevolent visits to rancid outlying villages with little or no sewage systems and a culture based on
witchcraft and sacrificial rituals. She also visits underprivileged towns in her home country, too...
BURKE - 7/10
Big Snatch resurrected the ghost of Samaras with a lung-bursting run down the wing that deserved more than the outcome.
He's like a rear-view mirror - an object a lot bigger than he first appears and is at least giving us a good shift
in return for the stolen jersey he'll give up come June. Fair enough.
BAYO - N/A
Big SOAG - acronym fans, you got it - looked well up for it and could have bagged a legendary start in the footsteps of many Celtic-career failures before him if Timo had squared for an open goal in injury-time. But he was spared the curse and we wait until he gets a decent hit at it for judgement to weigh.
BR - 6/10
Is he lucky? I've asked previously. Fuuuuck yeeeeeeeaaaaaassss! Screamed a million Tims on the 90th minute as
Captain Marvel smackeroonied in a winner contrived of ricochets from the Roadrunner cartoons that ended with the ACME dynamite explosion in the away end (one of two, cos Killie is a shitey Hun supporting town...).
Abject refusal to change his system until the utter death when big Son Of A Gun made his debut. Once again he
nearly - neeeeaarly - came unstuck against Stevie Clarke (next Celtic manger - watch this space, kids...)
at Kilmarncock but this time fortune favoured the brave-ish.
OVERALL - PHEW/10, or 7.
I hate the place. And so do the Celts.
Yet, a team game is reduced - as it often is on occassions like that, on a pitch like that - to a game of individual
moments; Broon, who bleeds the Hoops, and bleedin' Boyata who needn't be at the Hoops.
We shall repeat the glorious moment as attempted above with Broon, in more glorious exposition of those two dichotomous players -
One playing the perfect professional, fulfilling his contractual obligations to the best of his abilities, knocking
down to tee-up the winner for one playing the odds - on a booking - and playing with his heart like a demented berserker, raging onto the knock-down with a determined blinding fury, a single thought only - to smash the ball into the face of the Killie bastard that dared to challenge him...
Luckily, aforementioned Killie bastard - Bruce - threw an arm up to defend himself from Broony's tango size-5 assault and deflected the leathery balloon weapon, skittering it along the ground into the net to the astonishment of many.
Well, everyone. Except historians...
It was already Arthutrian lore:
'And the captain plunges the emerald dagger into the black hearts of the undead everywhere, and the skies open in anticipation of the return of the coming sun to banish the armies of darkness.'
So, yeah, we pull it out the mire, and Rugby Park can fuuuuuuck right off for another season. Thank Ghod.
Onwards and Eightwards.
Sandman out.
Last edited:
HAIL HAIL
