Well-known member

"Gooooooooool, akam Celteeek!
Alibaba-kabbaa , lililekii, baddahakan,
Scott Brown, maddaa bassaa.'

Bein sports Arabic commentator I had to listen to.

BANE - 8/10 MOTM

Supervillain turns superhero. Superman-ed a couple of early
stunners and Karate Kid-ed an ecstatic penalty save; also
found time to comically throw their battle giant a free shot
at an open goal just for yuks.

No chance with either of their two, though he almost blocked
the first and the second was just a ridiculous universal-laws-
of-physics mutant of a goal.

Is he back with a blockbuster? The opening act has a lot of

ALAN LADD - 5.5/10

Calamity just dogs him around the ranch at the moment. You
wonder, too, if Mary would fall off him on the way to Bethlehem.

When it's not going your way, shit happens; like incompetent
officials giving penalties for clumsiness outside the box; like
failing to do your basic job and lose out on a set-piece header
for their first goal.

Credit that he kept his head and maintained reasonable positional
awareness as the frenzy grew around our goalmouth; but certainly
needs the presence of composed, organising defensive partner; how
soon until the languid NBA stopper resurfaces? Not soon enough.

AJER - 6.5/10

Stalwart Northern wariror succumbs to... a blade in the ribs, an axe
across the back? No, looked like a tug on his nuts. Solid until the
irritating pull of whatever he's pulled - another committed game
where he stood tall against testing oppnents.


Great timing in the tackle and interception; a skill often overlooked.
he's fast and keen to engage, and not afraid to bust a lung going
forward in support; again his only weakness was the waste of crosses
from really good positions. But, hey, he's game for swininging them in

PINGPONG - 7.5/10

The wee mhan was stifled for the opening quarter, working back
furiously as Lille pressed us, but once he got going and space opened
up with Corpus shifting left, the right wing was his to burn.

Gave their left side a torrid time of it, setting up the second, and
delighting with some decent final balls at last; he's been working
on them as hard as he worked on his quality serve in the Bangkok

BROON - 7/10

Captain of industry. Where would you be without a Broon to plant in the
core of your formation like a berserker on a battlefield? Your defenders
would be chasing shadows, that's what. This was an example of why deploying
a Broon may appall the aestheitc nouances of those who see football like an
interior designer views crepe cushion covers.

Under pressure form a flamboyant French side, you have Broon in there to
vent it off, marshall your critical midfield line and maintain a professional
level of focus and organisation, coupled with a formidable mindset that won't
wilt or conced despite the possibility of being outnumbered and outplayed.
What he and Calmac did for the first twenty minutes gave us a chance.

SAM JACKSON - 7/10 first half/ 4/10 second. Umm, divide that wi' yer calculators.

Sometimes players are born to muthufuckin' frustrate. Looked like this
Muthufucka had turned up for the big game - the Frenchman finding France
after the grim bleakness of Dandy Donland, and he looked at home - pivoting
our midfield to front with wit and adventure, opening loads of space
for Elshag to profit.

Then he went back into a muthufuckin fug after half-time - slippin'
around all lazy and lackadasical, meaning we lost muthufuckin' momentum
and they got dominance of vital midfield territory. A god-daym shame we
get glimpses of such potential and then see it take an early seat.

CALMAC - 7/10

Brilliant work - and that's all he did; work, work, work. No chance
to be guileful and cute, despite being our most adept. Tonight he
was lashed to Broony deep in the engine room, shovelling coal into
the furnaces and trying not to let the ship sink.


Re: Sam Jackson. The Saviour opened well, offering himself body and
blood, then came the turn-around and he too mysteriously disappeared,
sort of Holy Ghosted right out of it; a major factor in us losing a grip
because suddenly they were unoccupied and free to push more bodies

Criminally ball-watching and lost his designated man at their corner,
who drifted around Corpus and scored to pull a goal back.


Out of hiding and might have given them a hiding - two superb efforts,
the first in particular of an orgasmic type seldom seen outside Parisien
brothels of the early 20th century.

But culpable with others in our creative force as the second-half began
to run away from us. Due to some indecision on his part - amazingly clean
in on goal from great runs twice early second period, inciting strained
throats everywhere screaming for the killer strike. Fluffed the opportunities;

Harsh? No, that's his job; get it right, we're cruising. So nearly, but...
He didn't. Fine lines.

THE YETI - 6/10

Batters about gamely, so no questioning his appetite; it's just the quality of
the end-product the jury's still out on, particularly after Sunday.
So what better tonight than for him to smash in the opener? Aaand...
he skied it. Set faces terse everywhere as a vital chance was thrown
away, but then redeemed himself with a nifty pickpocket of a defender
to lay on Elshag's opener.

Any further optimism we had for a Yeti sensation evaporated beyond
half-time by our malfunctioning midfield-to-front and his service
dried up, leaving him isolated and knackered.


BITTON - 6.5/10

Big Long Covid got the gig he might not have wanted - an early vital
role to play when ironside left the conflict. Unperturbed, he excelled
with perfect interventions and, as we lived on a knife-edge, denied
them in the box with more timely prods than a punctual ludge meeting.

ROGIC - 6/10

More sunshine promise from down under as he got stuck in for his cameo -
would have been nice to cast the wizard in earlier and see if it upset
their rythm.

FRENCH EDDY - 6.5/10

Arrived back with silken promise, reprising some mini-slaloms that
had the imaginary Celtic away support out of their imaginary seats.
If only he'd had a kinder break of the ball a couple of times; Imagine.

WELSH - 6/10

Thrown in with no concesion to his scarcity of years and his drill
was to keep them at bay. Stood up to task well as Lille sought dramatic
late victory.

MAN OF - 6/10

So did we get the shape of things to come as the skipper made
way for the man who is touted as his replacement?
We already have a hapless 'White Efe Ambrose' tanking the defence;
contrarily, will we see the 'Black Broon' inherit the midfield
general mantle?

Took one for the team, Broon-style, that's for sure and looked
generally mean and ready enough; this will be interesting.

LENNONY - 7/10

Twitter erupted in fury at his team selection for a game
in a town none of the complainants could get within a hundred
miles of pinning on a map. 'Fuckin' France, right?'.
But such is the age of entitlement we live in that even some
among a Celtic support can over-react like bleating fannies
missing a safe-space every time minutae isn't to their

So tonight Lennony stuck to his guns and his men of faith faced
down France's big guns. He got the result his selection deserved
- becasue many gave him the performance his belief warranted.

Maybe there's still too much belief on his part as we tripped
up second-half and he was reluctant to tinker, but he'll travel
home to Sunday's Quadrofenian Treble showdown knowing that his
chosen system worked when we were all in tune and that he
matched Ligue A's form team, taking them all the way.

Whine about that, biatches.

OVERALL - 7.5/10

Well, on a night of twos, you can view it two ways - in the context
of the result, or performance.

Result, angst-ridden what-might-have-beens that most would have
glady taken prior to kick-off.

The performance? Terrific. France's best side at home, who weren't
fecking around, and after stabilising from a torrid start, Celtic
forced their way into a position of great strength.

That we failed to hold on is one for the emotionally-sensitive to
pine over and find their escaping goats; right to the death, the game
may have gone either way.

Our side was compartmentalised from the backline forward, Calmac and
Broon labouring their socks off to deny space and time to the fleet-footed
Lille midfield, Elshag and Sam Jackson tasked with creating something with
whatever possession we had, The Yeti rustling giant defenders ('Buttman',
lol) and Corpus floating about in and out their lines.

When that worked with all departments fulfilling their remit - latter part
of first 45 especially- it was tremendous and allowed Pingpong to overlap
against a retreating defence; we got just desserts and a handsome lead; the
kind of lead the Huns will never know.

Second-half the creative function of the Celtic algorithm stuttered and
faltered, lost rythm and possession and control, and due to that we were
pinned back and overrun.

A defence with Calamity Shane was slim odds to keep Ligue A's finest at
bay, and so it fell into the 'I fucking knew it/that was fucking coming...'
prophets' domain to tarnish the, until then, surprisingly enjoyable evening
for Tims everywhere.

Still, you hope that the finest elements of this performance are a catalyst
for the future; a Celtic side as a dynamic unit with real belief.

Starting Sunday, it's about time we dished out some of the harsh reality that
we've been absorbing like domesticated pussies; let's see a feral Celtic for
the rest of the season, reborn in Europe, fittingly playing like Lions.

'Mon the Hoops.

Go Away Now. Until the Sabbath (not you Nir...Day after...)