Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ BRIGADOON
"Once Upon A Time, in a remote Scottish town,
a derided Australian-Greco magician turned round
the fortunes of a forlorn cause and sprinkled
stardust over their hopes and dreams."
- from 'Modern Tales Of Myth & Marvel' by
Kenny Believeit.
ROXIE - 6.5/10
Perfectly calming, and composed when required.
No show-stopping necessary, but the ghirl's
flapper hands stuck well to everything dangerous
thrown into our box. Comedy moment of the game
as he got rakish striker booked by smacking the
ball off him for getting too personal. Missus.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 8/10 MOTM
A sausage roll of a performance. A tasty feast
of gutsy defensive competence wrapped in a
pastry of terrific rotation and support play.
Last week's nearly-Hunskelper shook off the
ennui of a below-par outing and made sure
everything would count today.
He was the great example of how to win at
such places of toil and trouble - combat them
at their level of workrate and physicality,
then use your class to make the crucial
difference. He did.
STAR LORD - 7/10
After half an hour I realised he'd handle this one
a lot better than his rickrolled red card nightmare
during The Ralston Experience; he played his way out
of a sticky situation and the Racoon gave a satisfied
nod, folded its arms and sat up the back of the away
end to let Arthur Shelby take the stage.
Ross County away is an ask for any defender.
The question being - do you fancy it? Star Lord
showed us he did as his confidence in dealing with
rogue mountain men grows by the game.
GET CARTER - 7.5/10
No doubting the Big Mhan fancied it; this encounter
is bespoke tailoring for his game. Somebody to
smash AND a ball to win? Sunday lunch right there.
Nobody got change out of him, and he threw in the
block of the season to enhance his growing reputation.
TONY THE TIGER - 7/10
Made of steel, eats bricks for breakfast. Survived
an early assassination attempt from gurning wannabee
Klan hero Callachan, which in soccer circles is
generally known as a 'fucking obvious red card challenge'.
Except when the Celtic are pushing for a title that'll
condemn the slavering supremacists to years of
subjugation if not Apocalypse 2.
However, Tony's designed like the T-1000 Terminator
and morphed in a new leg almost instantly, then
proceeded to rampage up and down the wing like an
android possessed until the glory was his and ours,
lacking only the usual deadliness to his crosses.
But not bad for a guy who might not even have been
walking.
CALMAC - 7.5/10
Good grief, the consistency is that of a fillet steak
cooked by Salt Bae (AKA Juran Juran), the leadership
by example, and the passing precision-honed by Lockheed
Martin. Shooting by Mary Feldman.
He was not leaving there with anything less than three
points, though, and again the team rallied round his
unwavering committment to answer the call.
HAKUNA HATATE - 6.5/10
Wee Reo looked the part for an hour, surprisingly
fending off the rough-housing I feared would cull his
endeavour. He was finding good supporting space,
if stifled in his attacking ambitions.
You could see the fatigue affect him mentally into
the second-half as he slowed and the passing wasn't
as crisp. But he'd contributed enough and lasted well.
A couple more big performances, fella, then it's a
well-deserved champion's rest - a couple of months
of sushi, sake, and laughing at the Huns.
THE BUILDER - 6/10
Another who looked bright but faded. Him, I was
more surprised about because this looked made
for his guile. But after some inventive moments
he lost his way a bit. Maybe the English part of
him got spooked being so far North even the grass
appeared tartan.
NOTEBOOK - 7.5/10
At last, the bite is back. Turned a Different
Corner, and look what we got - killer lines to go
with the entertaining jigging. A beautiful cross
for the opener, then still lively and alert enough
to pounce and stab home the rapturous clincher.
MR.KOBAYASHI - 7.5/10
He Henrik-ed it! A header out of Swedish mythology
from a Japanese baku. A piece of footballing art
to savour as trepidation was consumed by joy.
He snapped that ball down into the bottom corner,
merging nostalgia with futurism so stylistically
that the streets of Verona shuddered as Umberto
Boccioni spun in his grave. (look it up,
philistines).
Maybe should/could have had a hat-trick as he
struck the bar and missed a nerve-calming sitter,
but... Whisper it, Kyogo is back.
LORD KATSUMOTO - 6.5/10
It had to happen at some point- the fucking
kitman forgot to pick up a packet of Duracell
at the Inverness services and the human dynamo
burnt himself out by the hour.
Showed his usual thrilling and undying dedication
to the cause in a first-half of sparkling movement
and link-play. But take that rest, well-earned,
and be prepared to unleash torment next week.
SUBS:
ROGIC - 6/10
Oz has inflicted much damage upon those robust
Heelanders in the past and was but a couple of lucky
interceptions and critical tackles away from doing
so again.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 6/10
So old he knows Gene Kelly from the original Brigadoon
appearance and it took him five minutes to realise
this was a whole new reprisal, a top-six rarity for
the Dungball inhabitants.
Then he settled and got on the ball, showing some of
the quality we look forward to adding back into the
mix.
ABADASS - 6/10
Looked completely freaked out by the locals.
Must have felt like he'd stepped off the bus into
Sheol. Fluffed his lines a couple of times before
he found the defining moment and a great bit of wing
play chopped up the virtual cocaine hit to send
us buzzing into the week.
SON OF JACKIE - 6.5/10
The big hustler did it - what he does best; forging
some room in the box, meeting the cross as he rolls
the defender. Denied only by the bar yet another
one-touch delight and the limelight, but he'd
played his part beautifully.
JAMESY - N/A
'Unpacked' late-on to give the local ladies at least
something to send them away with a misbegotten
smile.
ANITA DOBSON - 8/10
A cunning ploy by Ange to start all three Japanese
and gain the upper hand early as Big Mad Mental
Racist Malky stood on the touchline dressed like a
fat Carlito Brigante, face bursting and veins
popping, unable to contrive the correct term to
instruct his team to mark...' Those Fckn...' 'Ja..'
'Slo...' 'Thaim!!'
A great psychological job done this past week to
shut out the noisy Hun Monkeys and their SMSM
fanboys who'd swooned to the deck wanking over
a scrappy, shitty extra-time win against a disjointed
Celtic who really hadn't turned up yet had still almost
put it out of their grasp.
He got the focus he spoke of, the result we craved
and the touching-distance of legendary status.
Don't Stop, Ange - it's right there in front of you.
MIBBERY - 5/10
'Red card, red card, red card!' Somebody needs to play
back the squealing Ibrox demands of the Tory rentboy
for Clancy Drew to unravel the mystery that the scythe
on the Brickie was mistimed, high, dangerous and carried
out with malice as ugly as the goon who escaped with just
a yellow.
Some bullshit mantra of not wanting to dismiss somone
early will be the lame reasoning. But, fuck off, here's
a revolutionary idea - just start applying the laws of
the game.
OVERALL - 8/10
Dingwall for drama. Not you, Divine... although
drama-'Queen' might be on-point...
Another late show and scenes to savour. There were
probably more fermenting Huns watching the closing
moments at 1-0 than Tims, whose nerves were fraying
and looking for something to occupy ten minutes of
their time until the bloody game was done and won.
I know I was, and the only response I got from her
was, "We're not doing it five times"...
However, faithful trepidation was rewarded with that
special kind of ecstasy only a late vital goal can
deliver; compressed, pressurised joy let loose,
garnished with lashings of schadefreude from spewing
Huns.
But why did we fret? From the start the Bhoys were
back in the groove like Snoop Dogg laying down a
track for Rhythm & Gangsta. They clicked, took the
lead, might have killed it off, but built the tension
for the big dramatic finish we now expect up there.
Title run-in nerves came, manifested, then were blown
away by the Angeball machine that didn't stop.
We're so close now, the vengeful dreams of the
squandered TEN near to becoming sweet reality.
One down, two wins to go. Or maybe just that relished
one big result next time out... Ready the champagne
corks - the average Hun burd's about to ruin the ludge
karaoke night.*
Go Away Now
Sandman
* 'The fat lady's about to sing', for slow readers.
"Once Upon A Time, in a remote Scottish town,
a derided Australian-Greco magician turned round
the fortunes of a forlorn cause and sprinkled
stardust over their hopes and dreams."
- from 'Modern Tales Of Myth & Marvel' by
Kenny Believeit.
ROXIE - 6.5/10
Perfectly calming, and composed when required.
No show-stopping necessary, but the ghirl's
flapper hands stuck well to everything dangerous
thrown into our box. Comedy moment of the game
as he got rakish striker booked by smacking the
ball off him for getting too personal. Missus.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 8/10 MOTM
A sausage roll of a performance. A tasty feast
of gutsy defensive competence wrapped in a
pastry of terrific rotation and support play.
Last week's nearly-Hunskelper shook off the
ennui of a below-par outing and made sure
everything would count today.
He was the great example of how to win at
such places of toil and trouble - combat them
at their level of workrate and physicality,
then use your class to make the crucial
difference. He did.
STAR LORD - 7/10
After half an hour I realised he'd handle this one
a lot better than his rickrolled red card nightmare
during The Ralston Experience; he played his way out
of a sticky situation and the Racoon gave a satisfied
nod, folded its arms and sat up the back of the away
end to let Arthur Shelby take the stage.
Ross County away is an ask for any defender.
The question being - do you fancy it? Star Lord
showed us he did as his confidence in dealing with
rogue mountain men grows by the game.
GET CARTER - 7.5/10
No doubting the Big Mhan fancied it; this encounter
is bespoke tailoring for his game. Somebody to
smash AND a ball to win? Sunday lunch right there.
Nobody got change out of him, and he threw in the
block of the season to enhance his growing reputation.
TONY THE TIGER - 7/10
Made of steel, eats bricks for breakfast. Survived
an early assassination attempt from gurning wannabee
Klan hero Callachan, which in soccer circles is
generally known as a 'fucking obvious red card challenge'.
Except when the Celtic are pushing for a title that'll
condemn the slavering supremacists to years of
subjugation if not Apocalypse 2.
However, Tony's designed like the T-1000 Terminator
and morphed in a new leg almost instantly, then
proceeded to rampage up and down the wing like an
android possessed until the glory was his and ours,
lacking only the usual deadliness to his crosses.
But not bad for a guy who might not even have been
walking.
CALMAC - 7.5/10
Good grief, the consistency is that of a fillet steak
cooked by Salt Bae (AKA Juran Juran), the leadership
by example, and the passing precision-honed by Lockheed
Martin. Shooting by Mary Feldman.
He was not leaving there with anything less than three
points, though, and again the team rallied round his
unwavering committment to answer the call.
HAKUNA HATATE - 6.5/10
Wee Reo looked the part for an hour, surprisingly
fending off the rough-housing I feared would cull his
endeavour. He was finding good supporting space,
if stifled in his attacking ambitions.
You could see the fatigue affect him mentally into
the second-half as he slowed and the passing wasn't
as crisp. But he'd contributed enough and lasted well.
A couple more big performances, fella, then it's a
well-deserved champion's rest - a couple of months
of sushi, sake, and laughing at the Huns.
THE BUILDER - 6/10
Another who looked bright but faded. Him, I was
more surprised about because this looked made
for his guile. But after some inventive moments
he lost his way a bit. Maybe the English part of
him got spooked being so far North even the grass
appeared tartan.
NOTEBOOK - 7.5/10
At last, the bite is back. Turned a Different
Corner, and look what we got - killer lines to go
with the entertaining jigging. A beautiful cross
for the opener, then still lively and alert enough
to pounce and stab home the rapturous clincher.
MR.KOBAYASHI - 7.5/10
He Henrik-ed it! A header out of Swedish mythology
from a Japanese baku. A piece of footballing art
to savour as trepidation was consumed by joy.
He snapped that ball down into the bottom corner,
merging nostalgia with futurism so stylistically
that the streets of Verona shuddered as Umberto
Boccioni spun in his grave. (look it up,
philistines).
Maybe should/could have had a hat-trick as he
struck the bar and missed a nerve-calming sitter,
but... Whisper it, Kyogo is back.
LORD KATSUMOTO - 6.5/10
It had to happen at some point- the fucking
kitman forgot to pick up a packet of Duracell
at the Inverness services and the human dynamo
burnt himself out by the hour.
Showed his usual thrilling and undying dedication
to the cause in a first-half of sparkling movement
and link-play. But take that rest, well-earned,
and be prepared to unleash torment next week.
SUBS:
ROGIC - 6/10
Oz has inflicted much damage upon those robust
Heelanders in the past and was but a couple of lucky
interceptions and critical tackles away from doing
so again.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 6/10
So old he knows Gene Kelly from the original Brigadoon
appearance and it took him five minutes to realise
this was a whole new reprisal, a top-six rarity for
the Dungball inhabitants.
Then he settled and got on the ball, showing some of
the quality we look forward to adding back into the
mix.
ABADASS - 6/10
Looked completely freaked out by the locals.
Must have felt like he'd stepped off the bus into
Sheol. Fluffed his lines a couple of times before
he found the defining moment and a great bit of wing
play chopped up the virtual cocaine hit to send
us buzzing into the week.
SON OF JACKIE - 6.5/10
The big hustler did it - what he does best; forging
some room in the box, meeting the cross as he rolls
the defender. Denied only by the bar yet another
one-touch delight and the limelight, but he'd
played his part beautifully.
JAMESY - N/A
'Unpacked' late-on to give the local ladies at least
something to send them away with a misbegotten
smile.
ANITA DOBSON - 8/10
A cunning ploy by Ange to start all three Japanese
and gain the upper hand early as Big Mad Mental
Racist Malky stood on the touchline dressed like a
fat Carlito Brigante, face bursting and veins
popping, unable to contrive the correct term to
instruct his team to mark...' Those Fckn...' 'Ja..'
'Slo...' 'Thaim!!'
A great psychological job done this past week to
shut out the noisy Hun Monkeys and their SMSM
fanboys who'd swooned to the deck wanking over
a scrappy, shitty extra-time win against a disjointed
Celtic who really hadn't turned up yet had still almost
put it out of their grasp.
He got the focus he spoke of, the result we craved
and the touching-distance of legendary status.
Don't Stop, Ange - it's right there in front of you.
MIBBERY - 5/10
'Red card, red card, red card!' Somebody needs to play
back the squealing Ibrox demands of the Tory rentboy
for Clancy Drew to unravel the mystery that the scythe
on the Brickie was mistimed, high, dangerous and carried
out with malice as ugly as the goon who escaped with just
a yellow.
Some bullshit mantra of not wanting to dismiss somone
early will be the lame reasoning. But, fuck off, here's
a revolutionary idea - just start applying the laws of
the game.
OVERALL - 8/10
Dingwall for drama. Not you, Divine... although
drama-'Queen' might be on-point...
Another late show and scenes to savour. There were
probably more fermenting Huns watching the closing
moments at 1-0 than Tims, whose nerves were fraying
and looking for something to occupy ten minutes of
their time until the bloody game was done and won.
I know I was, and the only response I got from her
was, "We're not doing it five times"...
However, faithful trepidation was rewarded with that
special kind of ecstasy only a late vital goal can
deliver; compressed, pressurised joy let loose,
garnished with lashings of schadefreude from spewing
Huns.
But why did we fret? From the start the Bhoys were
back in the groove like Snoop Dogg laying down a
track for Rhythm & Gangsta. They clicked, took the
lead, might have killed it off, but built the tension
for the big dramatic finish we now expect up there.
Title run-in nerves came, manifested, then were blown
away by the Angeball machine that didn't stop.
We're so close now, the vengeful dreams of the
squandered TEN near to becoming sweet reality.
One down, two wins to go. Or maybe just that relished
one big result next time out... Ready the champagne
corks - the average Hun burd's about to ruin the ludge
karaoke night.*
Go Away Now
Sandman
* 'The fat lady's about to sing', for slow readers.
The only score I disagree with is Turnbull, I thought he was dire the whole time he was on the park
