Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ BROONTOON
"An old friend met in a far country is like rain
after a drought."
- Chinese Proverb
ROXIE - 7/10
A showgirl, violated by evil Germans, seeks refuge
and a restart in a formerly booming oil town where
she meets vociferous racism by inbred locals not
used to glamour, shampoo, or professionalism.
Against the odds, she emerges defiant, escaping
the clutches of the hillbillies and delivering a
performance of such exquisite technique the baying
crowd are silenced. Well, more than usual.
At the finale, they shower her in sweetie papers
as she departs the stage roaring and triumphant,
a sacrificial sheep held high.
That's my pitch for 'Baa-baret'. Lloyd-Webber's
hooked. What a musical it'll make. Just need to
leave out the bit where she should have taken young
Monty's heid off to stop the equaliser...
TONY THE TIGER - 6/10
If Forrest Gump wore the Hoops, this is the player
he'd be; a 90-minute blur of committment and honest
endeavour. In fact, Tony should wear 'Bubba-Gump'
sponsorship below Dafabet.
Every team needs a Tony, because when the talent's
spazzed-out he'll be careening about with a baseball
bat wrapped in barbed wire to hold the fort and blunt
the opposition's ambition.
So I don't judge him on the way he caresses a pass
or lights up proceedings with a coy flick or feint
- Tony's worth is measured on the rythmic stability
of the side; when the going got tough, who was
shovelling coal? Yes to Tony once more. Job done.
STAR LORD - 6.5/10
"The feckin' sheep, the feckin' sheep! They're
everywhere, everywhere! Pick a ball, any ball! Boot
it! Smash it! What's that! what's that?! There's
one there, one there! Gettim! Gettim!"
And the chattering madness of Star Lords invisible
talking racoon kept him well on his toes. The
first time in a Celtic shirt that he's appeared
switched on like a coke-wired, dancing-eyed,
Bitcoin five-minute-chart trader for the entire
game.
GET CARTER - 6/10
Beginning to look a tad confused with all the fuss.
You've got to win? Every game? Well, yes we do,
especially in this backwater swamp of a country,
especially up against the bizarre ideology that's
been trying to supress us for a century and more.
Sorry, nine years, snigger...
So the big man now knows he's in a game; a long
game. No prizes for second place. No glorious
failures here. Every game's a battle; got to be
at it.
Eventually, he made the grade today, after a scrap
he looked like losing for a while, but stood firm.
FIELD MARSHALL - 5.5/10
Still not quite fitting for the kid, despite his
fortitude. More than a few rocky moments - the
strange slo-mo effort to prevent their goal his
worst - but remained adventurous and positive.
His supporting surge to create the winner was
the bravery of youth and the craft of instinct;
Atonement complete.
CALMAC - 6.5/10
He's not Rambo, he's Corporal Hicks from Aliens;
a squad leader who'll muuck in with the grunts
and command by quiet example.
Criminally undersupported today, which resulted
in too much workrate and not enough reward from
the man with the plan to split defences asunder.
But his quality prevailed as we carved out the
late win with him back on the strings.
BITTON - 5/10
A surprise inclusion given Ange's predeliction
for majority attacking midfielders. But the Mossad
Morelos Molestor was added to give us some balance
and stability for Calmac to flourish.
Didn't work, becasue big Nir - despite his sweet
passing ability - was no match for the physical
Broon and Deliverance Banjo Player tandem up against
him.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 5.5/10
Commended by John Cleese after adding a hitherto
unseen Silly Walk to his repertoire on Thursday
night.
Would he be taken seriously today? After a sweet
cross to provide the opener, expectations rose.
But he defaulted to eccentric geriatric mode and
deliveries were again inconsistent, his influence
minimal and his presence often ethereal.
ABADASS - 5/10
The menacing scamper of an extremely agile and
dangerous sand-spider. But they thrive in desert
conditions, not blustery North Sea coastlines.
Try as he might, he couldn't free himself of
defensive shackles or influence the game at all
when few moments presented themselves.
NOTEBOOK - 7.5/10 MOTM
Wake us up before you go-go because getting to
Pittodrie for a noon kick-off is a no-no. Exciting
times for season-ticket holders because Wham have
just gone to number one in the local Eberdeen
Furrybits Wireless Cherts.
Nobody had the heart to tell them as they screamed
'George!' and threw their semmits at our bemused
Portuguese wing-wizard. Aberdeen's mutant wunderkind
at right-back used his ugliness to the best of his
ability to intimidate Notebook all first half but
the warning signs were there when another whip-and-dip
rifle shot rattled the bar.
Second period, as we toiled and tired, the kid switched
wings and hung on the edge of the action like a groupie
at his Dads' gigs. Then, when we needed him most, he
agian became the man who can, zipping in to prod home
the winner (No, triggered Huns, that's simply 'prod'
home, as in poke - not 'protestant' home; calm
yerselves...).
Another glory moment for the dashing blade, another
precious win for the Hoops. It's the Bhoys like him
who make the difference.
Claimed after the game his 'Ma & Da' were in the stadium.
Damned if I didn't see Andy Ridgeley and an urn sat in
the main stand...
MR.KOBAYASHI - 7/10
There are many things in life uncertain. But
there come at times certainties; Like face-painters
getting stiffed on the bill, like the ugliest
bastards the world has ever seen, inside and out,
waddling around Scottish streets in July dressed
like mid-op transsexual undertakers. And there's
Koyogo scoring.
After Thursday's anomalies in the matrix came the
response, an early finish with chestwork to rival
the finest geisha girl's speciality.
From that point the hat-trick was on. One was
disallowed, then service to him didn't just dry up;
it became positively arid. But the solution's right
there - get him the ball, he'll get us the goals.
SUBS:
ROGIC - 6.5/10
Oz shears sheep. That is a fact. Established over
the years as he brought outback tradition to
Scotland and misery to the Northern Flock.
Yet again he struck - for the first time in the game
we had someone able to take the ball on the edge of
their box and turn and with one calculated nudge of
a big surfboard boot, lay on the winner; Sublime
difference between one point and three.
THE YETI - N/A
It's North up there, right? So that might explain
why the Abominable Snowman can come on and
disappear. He may still be out on the pitch
somewhere.
ANITA DOBSON - 6/10
Oh, Ange, you got troubles so bad... Dirty Den's on
the warpath and Sharon's on the pill, not to mention
the injury pile-ups and the misfiring system.
But he seems a man who is prepared to live and die
by his belief. Probably the most difficult part of
the job is not to question one's own convictions
before the plan's been thoroughly played-out.
So what point are we at? Many of the armchair Steins
have already delivered damning verdicts. But is
Angeball the one-dimensional card-trick of Ronny Deila,
or does it posses undercurrents like the subtle verve
of The Snake's attacking fluidity?
For me, he's falling between the two right now - no
definitive pattern but no surprise given the ridiculous
injury problems that have picked his teams out of
necessity rather than design.
Thursday was a fragile exposure. Today was a quest for
validation that became something else entirely - a way
to win ugly. Above all, the points were most coveted.
He got them. Now will trip-out on opiates until the
international break's over and injury-free.
MIBBERY - 4/10
"It's not fair! It's just not fair, waaa, waaaaa...."
The peculiar recording of the MIBs hastily arranged
emergency AGM to discuss the introduction of VAR
came to light on a suicide blog earlier this past
week.
The unnamed contributor - going by the handle
'@servilehunnumberone' - posted an expletive-riddled
incoherent rant, something about dignity and tradition
and livestock or suchlike, and generally seemed on
the edge of some major self-harm.
So after posting my encouragement and insisting he
got on with it and let the overworked emergency services
catch a coffee break, I began to wonder - just who was
@servilehunnimberone ?
And then - like watching an approaching frisbee after
six lunchtime football pints - it hit me:
@servilehunnumberone is every one. A composite identity.
It is them ALL. For they are legion. And they are
fucking terrified.
The one they dragged out the Kirk at lunchtime today
was the arch-confessor himself - Boaby Madhun. Reffing
the two teams he hates the most. Flashing about his yellow
card like a desperate knickerless hooker skirtlifting on
the Aberdeen docks as a navy ship comes in.
And after we scored, the crestfallen, gutted bastard
just ran around sobbing into his whistle. Could hardly
get a peep out of it for the slavers. Har-de-har. Tick-tock...
OVERALL - 6/10
The Stuttering Dons trying to adapt a mainly new squad to
a new system, versus the stuttering Hoops trying to adapt
a mainly new squad to a new system. What could possibly go
wrong?
The answer was everything. For them. Three desperately-needed
points and a confidence-inspiring AWAY victory at a tricky outpost
just before an international break was the wish. The Bhoys
got there, shaking off the Euro death by 1000 cuts, and getting
over some appalling second-half lag to engineer a scrappy win.
We didn't Leverkusen them, we Liverpool-ed them; jacked them up
on bricks and nicked their hubcaps and rims while they weren't
looking. Sorry, Broony. But, phew....
Go Away Now.
Sandman.
"An old friend met in a far country is like rain
after a drought."
- Chinese Proverb
ROXIE - 7/10
A showgirl, violated by evil Germans, seeks refuge
and a restart in a formerly booming oil town where
she meets vociferous racism by inbred locals not
used to glamour, shampoo, or professionalism.
Against the odds, she emerges defiant, escaping
the clutches of the hillbillies and delivering a
performance of such exquisite technique the baying
crowd are silenced. Well, more than usual.
At the finale, they shower her in sweetie papers
as she departs the stage roaring and triumphant,
a sacrificial sheep held high.
That's my pitch for 'Baa-baret'. Lloyd-Webber's
hooked. What a musical it'll make. Just need to
leave out the bit where she should have taken young
Monty's heid off to stop the equaliser...
TONY THE TIGER - 6/10
If Forrest Gump wore the Hoops, this is the player
he'd be; a 90-minute blur of committment and honest
endeavour. In fact, Tony should wear 'Bubba-Gump'
sponsorship below Dafabet.
Every team needs a Tony, because when the talent's
spazzed-out he'll be careening about with a baseball
bat wrapped in barbed wire to hold the fort and blunt
the opposition's ambition.
So I don't judge him on the way he caresses a pass
or lights up proceedings with a coy flick or feint
- Tony's worth is measured on the rythmic stability
of the side; when the going got tough, who was
shovelling coal? Yes to Tony once more. Job done.
STAR LORD - 6.5/10
"The feckin' sheep, the feckin' sheep! They're
everywhere, everywhere! Pick a ball, any ball! Boot
it! Smash it! What's that! what's that?! There's
one there, one there! Gettim! Gettim!"
And the chattering madness of Star Lords invisible
talking racoon kept him well on his toes. The
first time in a Celtic shirt that he's appeared
switched on like a coke-wired, dancing-eyed,
Bitcoin five-minute-chart trader for the entire
game.
GET CARTER - 6/10
Beginning to look a tad confused with all the fuss.
You've got to win? Every game? Well, yes we do,
especially in this backwater swamp of a country,
especially up against the bizarre ideology that's
been trying to supress us for a century and more.
Sorry, nine years, snigger...
So the big man now knows he's in a game; a long
game. No prizes for second place. No glorious
failures here. Every game's a battle; got to be
at it.
Eventually, he made the grade today, after a scrap
he looked like losing for a while, but stood firm.
FIELD MARSHALL - 5.5/10
Still not quite fitting for the kid, despite his
fortitude. More than a few rocky moments - the
strange slo-mo effort to prevent their goal his
worst - but remained adventurous and positive.
His supporting surge to create the winner was
the bravery of youth and the craft of instinct;
Atonement complete.
CALMAC - 6.5/10
He's not Rambo, he's Corporal Hicks from Aliens;
a squad leader who'll muuck in with the grunts
and command by quiet example.
Criminally undersupported today, which resulted
in too much workrate and not enough reward from
the man with the plan to split defences asunder.
But his quality prevailed as we carved out the
late win with him back on the strings.
BITTON - 5/10
A surprise inclusion given Ange's predeliction
for majority attacking midfielders. But the Mossad
Morelos Molestor was added to give us some balance
and stability for Calmac to flourish.
Didn't work, becasue big Nir - despite his sweet
passing ability - was no match for the physical
Broon and Deliverance Banjo Player tandem up against
him.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 5.5/10
Commended by John Cleese after adding a hitherto
unseen Silly Walk to his repertoire on Thursday
night.
Would he be taken seriously today? After a sweet
cross to provide the opener, expectations rose.
But he defaulted to eccentric geriatric mode and
deliveries were again inconsistent, his influence
minimal and his presence often ethereal.
ABADASS - 5/10
The menacing scamper of an extremely agile and
dangerous sand-spider. But they thrive in desert
conditions, not blustery North Sea coastlines.
Try as he might, he couldn't free himself of
defensive shackles or influence the game at all
when few moments presented themselves.
NOTEBOOK - 7.5/10 MOTM
Wake us up before you go-go because getting to
Pittodrie for a noon kick-off is a no-no. Exciting
times for season-ticket holders because Wham have
just gone to number one in the local Eberdeen
Furrybits Wireless Cherts.
Nobody had the heart to tell them as they screamed
'George!' and threw their semmits at our bemused
Portuguese wing-wizard. Aberdeen's mutant wunderkind
at right-back used his ugliness to the best of his
ability to intimidate Notebook all first half but
the warning signs were there when another whip-and-dip
rifle shot rattled the bar.
Second period, as we toiled and tired, the kid switched
wings and hung on the edge of the action like a groupie
at his Dads' gigs. Then, when we needed him most, he
agian became the man who can, zipping in to prod home
the winner (No, triggered Huns, that's simply 'prod'
home, as in poke - not 'protestant' home; calm
yerselves...).
Another glory moment for the dashing blade, another
precious win for the Hoops. It's the Bhoys like him
who make the difference.
Claimed after the game his 'Ma & Da' were in the stadium.
Damned if I didn't see Andy Ridgeley and an urn sat in
the main stand...
MR.KOBAYASHI - 7/10
There are many things in life uncertain. But
there come at times certainties; Like face-painters
getting stiffed on the bill, like the ugliest
bastards the world has ever seen, inside and out,
waddling around Scottish streets in July dressed
like mid-op transsexual undertakers. And there's
Koyogo scoring.
After Thursday's anomalies in the matrix came the
response, an early finish with chestwork to rival
the finest geisha girl's speciality.
From that point the hat-trick was on. One was
disallowed, then service to him didn't just dry up;
it became positively arid. But the solution's right
there - get him the ball, he'll get us the goals.
SUBS:
ROGIC - 6.5/10
Oz shears sheep. That is a fact. Established over
the years as he brought outback tradition to
Scotland and misery to the Northern Flock.
Yet again he struck - for the first time in the game
we had someone able to take the ball on the edge of
their box and turn and with one calculated nudge of
a big surfboard boot, lay on the winner; Sublime
difference between one point and three.
THE YETI - N/A
It's North up there, right? So that might explain
why the Abominable Snowman can come on and
disappear. He may still be out on the pitch
somewhere.
ANITA DOBSON - 6/10
Oh, Ange, you got troubles so bad... Dirty Den's on
the warpath and Sharon's on the pill, not to mention
the injury pile-ups and the misfiring system.
But he seems a man who is prepared to live and die
by his belief. Probably the most difficult part of
the job is not to question one's own convictions
before the plan's been thoroughly played-out.
So what point are we at? Many of the armchair Steins
have already delivered damning verdicts. But is
Angeball the one-dimensional card-trick of Ronny Deila,
or does it posses undercurrents like the subtle verve
of The Snake's attacking fluidity?
For me, he's falling between the two right now - no
definitive pattern but no surprise given the ridiculous
injury problems that have picked his teams out of
necessity rather than design.
Thursday was a fragile exposure. Today was a quest for
validation that became something else entirely - a way
to win ugly. Above all, the points were most coveted.
He got them. Now will trip-out on opiates until the
international break's over and injury-free.
MIBBERY - 4/10
"It's not fair! It's just not fair, waaa, waaaaa...."
The peculiar recording of the MIBs hastily arranged
emergency AGM to discuss the introduction of VAR
came to light on a suicide blog earlier this past
week.
The unnamed contributor - going by the handle
'@servilehunnumberone' - posted an expletive-riddled
incoherent rant, something about dignity and tradition
and livestock or suchlike, and generally seemed on
the edge of some major self-harm.
So after posting my encouragement and insisting he
got on with it and let the overworked emergency services
catch a coffee break, I began to wonder - just who was
@servilehunnimberone ?
And then - like watching an approaching frisbee after
six lunchtime football pints - it hit me:
@servilehunnumberone is every one. A composite identity.
It is them ALL. For they are legion. And they are
fucking terrified.
The one they dragged out the Kirk at lunchtime today
was the arch-confessor himself - Boaby Madhun. Reffing
the two teams he hates the most. Flashing about his yellow
card like a desperate knickerless hooker skirtlifting on
the Aberdeen docks as a navy ship comes in.
And after we scored, the crestfallen, gutted bastard
just ran around sobbing into his whistle. Could hardly
get a peep out of it for the slavers. Har-de-har. Tick-tock...
OVERALL - 6/10
The Stuttering Dons trying to adapt a mainly new squad to
a new system, versus the stuttering Hoops trying to adapt
a mainly new squad to a new system. What could possibly go
wrong?
The answer was everything. For them. Three desperately-needed
points and a confidence-inspiring AWAY victory at a tricky outpost
just before an international break was the wish. The Bhoys
got there, shaking off the Euro death by 1000 cuts, and getting
over some appalling second-half lag to engineer a scrappy win.
We didn't Leverkusen them, we Liverpool-ed them; jacked them up
on bricks and nicked their hubcaps and rims while they weren't
looking. Sorry, Broony. But, phew....
Go Away Now.
Sandman.
