Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ BEGBIE'S BOUDOIR
"Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose Kyogo, Holm, Vata,
and start putting a fucking run together before the miserabale
smackhead Hun bastards get ideas. Choose a decent fucking
team in future. Choose life."
- Renton Rodgers, 'Timspotting' (1994)
ROXIE - 7/10
Again! Saviour of the blushes on Saturday, saviour of
the season tonight. Presence and instinct and big, big
block to pop their bubble; we looked done but with a
figurehead like the big mhan behind them, the bhoys
could get their mettle together as he absorbed the
pressure and delivered the inspiring stops.
DIEGO ARMANDO MARADONA - 6.5/10
Ghod loves a trier, and D10S certainly is one - incessant
willingness to get the ball and get at them. Carried us
late in the game as coaching indoctrination stagnated our
thrusts, yet the wee dude with the redneck wedge kept
winding into the spaces and turning their lines; Didn't
know when he was beat; or moreso refused to be. Played,
the gaucho kid.
WAYNE GRETZKY - N/A
Ooft! So lightning doesn't strike twice? But there it
was - same ground, almost EXACT same patch of turf
that AJ got slabbed on earlier in the season.
What were the odds? Where was the card for a dangerous,
directed header into his skull? Now we're down a
right-back, with the only compensation that he won't
be called up for Stanley Cup duty....
Get well soon, Moose.
OF JUSTICE - 5.5/10
As with his defensive counterpart, Scales & Welsh -
sounds like a Limerick fishmongers - settled well into
a comfortable understanding first 45, building play and
thwarting Hibs forays. But like Raquel, he got all shook
up by Elvis Boyle and the soul boys' second-half reprise.
However, Liam wins the Ginger Emily Pankhurst award for
selflessly throwing himself into the thundering hooves
to get a block on a certainty.
RAQUEL - 5.5/10
Cool as a fur bikini doon Leith Walk first half; grown
in confidence with the manager's belief in him. Started
to quake a bit when they got aggressive second half and
yet again injury curtailed his match.
CALMAC - 5.5/10
Why is Calmac not so influential, they ask/complain/moan?
Because with our recent midfield shape, he's been an
isolated man alone for stretches of the game.
Just watch a clip from any game previous two seasons
and see the available bodies and angles within various
ranges when he's in posession.
Then contrast it with the solo water-carrying he's had
to add to his game, then deduct that energy expended
from the required amount to spark creative play and
you're a neuroscientist looking at his performance and
remarking, 'Fair enough, did what he could given the
overwhelming numbers'.
SAINT BERNARDO - 5/10
A night of Paulo v Walsh as he tore about desperately
seeking an opening, only to be penalised for every
contact, and ocassionally even just for the idea
forming in his prefrontal cortex. Wasted in an advanced
role hustling for space and scraps; better coming from
deeper with timing.
THE BUILDER - 4/10
Matty! Matty? Has anyone seen Matty? I did - fleetingly,
around the periphery of the game. Out of synch and out
of touch - a dip in form that sees him displaced from
being jungle cat to perimeter cat; haste ye back.
LORD KATSUMOTO - 6/10
You're next, Daizen; don't check yer messages -
'Things that happened while you were away' folder
is full of sweary haikus from Kyogo.
Only thing keeping you in a shirt is that you can
run til the apocalypse, that you're the workhorse
he needs.
And for the first half he showed how much we've
missed his tenacity. Somehow, we decided not to
utilise him properly after the break and he faded
amid that mystery.
DUNCAN IDAHO - 7.5/10 MOTM
Our savior? No, our 6-month foster child, to be
given back to the webbed-feet Partridge XI select
in the summer. Back-up to the back-up, we presumed.
So why does he get the Celtic centre forward starting
jersey? Simple - your elite manager fancies him over
your 115 appearances, 65 goals, penalty-box viper.
So, embittered footballing politics aside, the bhoy,
despite snipers ready to take him down, did the only
thing he could - what he's paid to do.
Skelped in those two pens with a consummate efficiency
totally alien to his teammates. In between, he was
lining up for the evening's hall of villainy as two
glorious opportunities were squandered while we toiled.
But good strikers do what they do WHEN the pressure's
on, and kudos to the big fella for that, in spades.
Never stopped the churn and got his reward. He may
salvage our title bid, and we may salvage his
career.
TAKINTE - 2/10
Never again show a nice, disciplined German boy
Trainspotting as prep for a visit to Leith.
Terrified, he was. Never again. Y'hear that,
Gavin Strachan? You and yer laptop por... 'movie
collection'. Never again...
SUBS -
KILLER MUSHROOM - 6.5/10
"Kyogo needs a rest."
"Kyogo needs to get his shootin' boots on."
Maybe Kyogo needed some service; This piece
of rocket science didn't come via Oppenheimer,
merely the tactically obvious ploy of the
previous manager to provide his Japanese
assassin with as many chances as we could.
And now he's cast into the fray as gamble in
the number 10 spot; only Kyogo could do what
Kyogo does and make enough of an impact to win
the penalty; committment and zip and nous.
Well done, wee mhan.
ABADASS - N/A
The fuck are you doing?! #1
Came on, bumbled about, conceded more fouls
than he had touches of the ball.
BRIAN DE - N/A
The fuck are you doing?! #2
Part of a zany sub-wingers double act
specialising in late game sabotage, appearing
at the Edinburgh fringe this year as the Fuckwit
Brothers.
APOLLO CREED - 5.5/10
Rocky by name, not by nature, thankfully,
as he entered the frey and made sure he
was the one at the back who could actually
divert the ball away from our goal...
TONY THE TIGER - 6/10
Quickest sub appearance in his career,
just beating the last time AJ got panned
in Pan Alley. Thought Tony did alright,
considering the pace and strength he came
up against as our midfeld evaporated.
THE SHNAKE - 5.5/10
And so it is done - the neutralisation of his
predeccesor's jewel in the crown; starved,
exhausted, and benched.
What price ego in football?
Answer: roughly 20 goals less.
Timely changing of the guard as you head to
a ground you haven't won at, in desperate
need of a win...
What price logic and risk?
Answer: this is football. Sometimes, like tonight,
you'd be as well asking Leigh Griffiths to give
you a Tarot reading while he explains the theory
of relativity and hypothetical alien civilisations'
dimensional weapons, than waste time on a gameplan.
Just go out and play, is about as much as he could
have said to the disparate bunch he'd assembled to
get the season back on track.
And while his turgid malfunctioning system was
making us all feel like tapping up a vein with
the locals, the sun shone on Leith (/'Teeth')
for once when Buck was in town.
New strker nails a pen double, with substitute
deadly selfless superhero providing the assist
for the last-ditch winner.
Ange got called a Lucky Man. This season's tune
might yet be Fortunate (prodigal) Son.
MIBBERY - 3/10
LOL, for us means laugh out loud, for them Loyal
Ora... You know the rest.
Tonight, LOL at VAR having to intervene at the
death because Sky Sports had us live. They'd let
the Hibees off with brutality from the AJ
decapitation to the moment Kyogo got his shin
splintered. Justice served cold and sweet.
OVERALL - 5/10
Before we proceed - an opinion of mine, not to
be found in SMSM circle-jerks over the Huns:
They shat it last night.
To forensically dissect that intellectual treatise,
let me point out the pre-match hyperbole: they were
going to savage the Dons and take a triumphant place
at the summit, never to be dislodged.
Two clear goals would have done it. But once again -
and once again unremarked upon - they FAILED.
That big game bottle cracked as they faced a browbeaten
Sheep side, run by Colin Wanker - one of their own -
and backed by 50,000 stinking troglodites marinated
in genrational hate, vibrating with unhealthy excitement.
All dark stars aligning and they still couldn't get
it over the line. But, shh, don't tell them. Reality
will strike soon enough. And we better be ready to
pounce.
Part of that is finding ways to win at places that
haunt us. Like tonight. Like that common football
phrase, 'winning ugly'. But we couldn't even manage
that. We 'won shite.'
Just as terrible form can curse a season, so can
ridiculous good fortune turn it. From Hibs missing
golden moments to our loan signing being the one
who can dispatch a penalty with no more fuss than
Clint Eastwood gunning down the Rojo gang in Fistful
of Dollars.
We got flukey. We might now have run out of fluke.
Time for the bhoys to bounce back in spite of their
coaching and dispell this faltering run by dispensing
some merciless hidings.
Go Away Now
Sandman
"Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose Kyogo, Holm, Vata,
and start putting a fucking run together before the miserabale
smackhead Hun bastards get ideas. Choose a decent fucking
team in future. Choose life."
- Renton Rodgers, 'Timspotting' (1994)
ROXIE - 7/10
Again! Saviour of the blushes on Saturday, saviour of
the season tonight. Presence and instinct and big, big
block to pop their bubble; we looked done but with a
figurehead like the big mhan behind them, the bhoys
could get their mettle together as he absorbed the
pressure and delivered the inspiring stops.
DIEGO ARMANDO MARADONA - 6.5/10
Ghod loves a trier, and D10S certainly is one - incessant
willingness to get the ball and get at them. Carried us
late in the game as coaching indoctrination stagnated our
thrusts, yet the wee dude with the redneck wedge kept
winding into the spaces and turning their lines; Didn't
know when he was beat; or moreso refused to be. Played,
the gaucho kid.
WAYNE GRETZKY - N/A
Ooft! So lightning doesn't strike twice? But there it
was - same ground, almost EXACT same patch of turf
that AJ got slabbed on earlier in the season.
What were the odds? Where was the card for a dangerous,
directed header into his skull? Now we're down a
right-back, with the only compensation that he won't
be called up for Stanley Cup duty....
Get well soon, Moose.
OF JUSTICE - 5.5/10
As with his defensive counterpart, Scales & Welsh -
sounds like a Limerick fishmongers - settled well into
a comfortable understanding first 45, building play and
thwarting Hibs forays. But like Raquel, he got all shook
up by Elvis Boyle and the soul boys' second-half reprise.
However, Liam wins the Ginger Emily Pankhurst award for
selflessly throwing himself into the thundering hooves
to get a block on a certainty.
RAQUEL - 5.5/10
Cool as a fur bikini doon Leith Walk first half; grown
in confidence with the manager's belief in him. Started
to quake a bit when they got aggressive second half and
yet again injury curtailed his match.
CALMAC - 5.5/10
Why is Calmac not so influential, they ask/complain/moan?
Because with our recent midfield shape, he's been an
isolated man alone for stretches of the game.
Just watch a clip from any game previous two seasons
and see the available bodies and angles within various
ranges when he's in posession.
Then contrast it with the solo water-carrying he's had
to add to his game, then deduct that energy expended
from the required amount to spark creative play and
you're a neuroscientist looking at his performance and
remarking, 'Fair enough, did what he could given the
overwhelming numbers'.
SAINT BERNARDO - 5/10
A night of Paulo v Walsh as he tore about desperately
seeking an opening, only to be penalised for every
contact, and ocassionally even just for the idea
forming in his prefrontal cortex. Wasted in an advanced
role hustling for space and scraps; better coming from
deeper with timing.
THE BUILDER - 4/10
Matty! Matty? Has anyone seen Matty? I did - fleetingly,
around the periphery of the game. Out of synch and out
of touch - a dip in form that sees him displaced from
being jungle cat to perimeter cat; haste ye back.
LORD KATSUMOTO - 6/10
You're next, Daizen; don't check yer messages -
'Things that happened while you were away' folder
is full of sweary haikus from Kyogo.
Only thing keeping you in a shirt is that you can
run til the apocalypse, that you're the workhorse
he needs.
And for the first half he showed how much we've
missed his tenacity. Somehow, we decided not to
utilise him properly after the break and he faded
amid that mystery.
DUNCAN IDAHO - 7.5/10 MOTM
Our savior? No, our 6-month foster child, to be
given back to the webbed-feet Partridge XI select
in the summer. Back-up to the back-up, we presumed.
So why does he get the Celtic centre forward starting
jersey? Simple - your elite manager fancies him over
your 115 appearances, 65 goals, penalty-box viper.
So, embittered footballing politics aside, the bhoy,
despite snipers ready to take him down, did the only
thing he could - what he's paid to do.
Skelped in those two pens with a consummate efficiency
totally alien to his teammates. In between, he was
lining up for the evening's hall of villainy as two
glorious opportunities were squandered while we toiled.
But good strikers do what they do WHEN the pressure's
on, and kudos to the big fella for that, in spades.
Never stopped the churn and got his reward. He may
salvage our title bid, and we may salvage his
career.
TAKINTE - 2/10
Never again show a nice, disciplined German boy
Trainspotting as prep for a visit to Leith.
Terrified, he was. Never again. Y'hear that,
Gavin Strachan? You and yer laptop por... 'movie
collection'. Never again...
SUBS -
KILLER MUSHROOM - 6.5/10
"Kyogo needs a rest."
"Kyogo needs to get his shootin' boots on."
Maybe Kyogo needed some service; This piece
of rocket science didn't come via Oppenheimer,
merely the tactically obvious ploy of the
previous manager to provide his Japanese
assassin with as many chances as we could.
And now he's cast into the fray as gamble in
the number 10 spot; only Kyogo could do what
Kyogo does and make enough of an impact to win
the penalty; committment and zip and nous.
Well done, wee mhan.
ABADASS - N/A
The fuck are you doing?! #1
Came on, bumbled about, conceded more fouls
than he had touches of the ball.
BRIAN DE - N/A
The fuck are you doing?! #2
Part of a zany sub-wingers double act
specialising in late game sabotage, appearing
at the Edinburgh fringe this year as the Fuckwit
Brothers.
APOLLO CREED - 5.5/10
Rocky by name, not by nature, thankfully,
as he entered the frey and made sure he
was the one at the back who could actually
divert the ball away from our goal...
TONY THE TIGER - 6/10
Quickest sub appearance in his career,
just beating the last time AJ got panned
in Pan Alley. Thought Tony did alright,
considering the pace and strength he came
up against as our midfeld evaporated.
THE SHNAKE - 5.5/10
And so it is done - the neutralisation of his
predeccesor's jewel in the crown; starved,
exhausted, and benched.
What price ego in football?
Answer: roughly 20 goals less.
Timely changing of the guard as you head to
a ground you haven't won at, in desperate
need of a win...
What price logic and risk?
Answer: this is football. Sometimes, like tonight,
you'd be as well asking Leigh Griffiths to give
you a Tarot reading while he explains the theory
of relativity and hypothetical alien civilisations'
dimensional weapons, than waste time on a gameplan.
Just go out and play, is about as much as he could
have said to the disparate bunch he'd assembled to
get the season back on track.
And while his turgid malfunctioning system was
making us all feel like tapping up a vein with
the locals, the sun shone on Leith (/'Teeth')
for once when Buck was in town.
New strker nails a pen double, with substitute
deadly selfless superhero providing the assist
for the last-ditch winner.
Ange got called a Lucky Man. This season's tune
might yet be Fortunate (prodigal) Son.
MIBBERY - 3/10
LOL, for us means laugh out loud, for them Loyal
Ora... You know the rest.
Tonight, LOL at VAR having to intervene at the
death because Sky Sports had us live. They'd let
the Hibees off with brutality from the AJ
decapitation to the moment Kyogo got his shin
splintered. Justice served cold and sweet.
OVERALL - 5/10
Before we proceed - an opinion of mine, not to
be found in SMSM circle-jerks over the Huns:
They shat it last night.
To forensically dissect that intellectual treatise,
let me point out the pre-match hyperbole: they were
going to savage the Dons and take a triumphant place
at the summit, never to be dislodged.
Two clear goals would have done it. But once again -
and once again unremarked upon - they FAILED.
That big game bottle cracked as they faced a browbeaten
Sheep side, run by Colin Wanker - one of their own -
and backed by 50,000 stinking troglodites marinated
in genrational hate, vibrating with unhealthy excitement.
All dark stars aligning and they still couldn't get
it over the line. But, shh, don't tell them. Reality
will strike soon enough. And we better be ready to
pounce.
Part of that is finding ways to win at places that
haunt us. Like tonight. Like that common football
phrase, 'winning ugly'. But we couldn't even manage
that. We 'won shite.'
Just as terrible form can curse a season, so can
ridiculous good fortune turn it. From Hibs missing
golden moments to our loan signing being the one
who can dispatch a penalty with no more fuss than
Clint Eastwood gunning down the Rojo gang in Fistful
of Dollars.
We got flukey. We might now have run out of fluke.
Time for the bhoys to bounce back in spite of their
coaching and dispell this faltering run by dispensing
some merciless hidings.
Go Away Now
Sandman
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