Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ BURNS SHITE
N'er a town surpasses for honest men and bonnie lasses...
Naw, it's Ayr I'm talkin' aboot. No' Killie - it's a hole..."
Rabbie Burns.
THE WALL - 7.5/10
Welcome to friction-burn mecca, keeper of the onion bag. Would
have been hoping for a quiet night lest his knees, thighs and
quite possibly, arse, would have resembled a teenager's first
Club Med sun exposure.
Quiet first half but tuned in with his feet - nothing was going
to stickaround, everything got the order of the boot.
Great save late on, no chance with the freaky goal from the
freaks.
PINGPONG - 8/10
Being the same size as a lego minifigure, the plastic surface
was a dream for him. The holes in the bottom of his boots fit
perfectly with the studs on the base - sorry, pitch.
And what an example of verve he was - superb spin and run to
set up the opener. Maintained his scintillating wing-back play,
opening them up and forcing their left side into damage mode
which kept Brophy quiet.
However... Wiped out the game and possibly the season by a
fucking animal on day release, the Beast of Belmarsh or
something of that ilk, a walking example of what will be
expected of all our opponents this run-in.
Let's hope Pingpong recovers at speed, that Broon has the
ogre's card well marked, and that the Belmarsh shower-rapist
is feeling frisky.
JULLIEN CLARY - 8/10 MOTM
So his tour of rancid Scottish backwoods continues down in
the Ayrshire gloaming. This killing-ground of previous title
hopes might have been a sour proposition for any newcoming
sophisticat, but not this Gallic troupador - he was propmpt
and alert, dismissing the Thistle abberation in favour of
some fine leadership from the rear.
He also won just about everything required, throwing in some
crucial blocks; a performance not to be underestimated given
that dire playing surface and our previous Livi nightmare on
same. Iced the croissant with that run and header to seal the
win - important moment in the title.
AJER - 7/10
If anyone's used to the broken-lego environs of 'Rugby Park'
- oh, the irony - it's young Ironside. The vikings landed in
Largs, just some 20 miles from Killie, but stayed away for
aesthetic reasons.
You could see our warrior was confident in these surroundings,
roving forward, making his passes out from the back count.
Another solid game when required at in crucial away fixture.
JOZO - 6.5/10
Jozo of the dodgy knee? On the sticklebrick surface? Cunning
new boot design prototype has real-grass insoles to trick Jozo's
psyche.
And it was his heid doing the early talking - produced a great
save to stop him netting the first. Then on, with heart in mouth,
we watched to see if he could cope with second-half pressure and
his least favourite pitch.
Aside from a couple of Bambi moments he came through well, even
throwing in a 'jailhouse slap' to sedate a tricky winger; damn
shame he didn't have more time to apply 'Gulag Vengeance Breathing
Moratorium' in the name of Pingpong.
BROON - 7.5/10
Back where he won the league. Back where the locals adore him...
Back picking off the scraps and providing the platform. Another
display of experienced control from the skipper. Amazingly not
booked, though with five more minutes around the Beast of Belmarsh
I suspect he might have given Don Robertson opportunity to live
out his recurring wank-fantasy.
SAM JACKSON - 7/10
Daym, git me outta here. A muthufucka rocks up at the home of
tricky muthufuckas on a chill winter night and has to skate about
on a muthufuckin melted shower cap.
Yet this muthufucka grew into a game of the type we'v eoften seen
him disappear from - like Broon this was all about muthufuckin'
control, muthufuckas.
And DAYM if he didn't exert some righteous sweeping play upon those
heathens - maybe even should and could have muthufuckin' scored a
couple of beauties, baby. But it was all about gettin' the points;
muthufuckin-A!
CALMAC - 6.5/10
Was this going to be perfect for him? - protected by a Muthufucka
and a savage captain, would there be time and space for Podgy Pirlo
to pick 'em apart?
Nope. As Killie invited members of the crowd to come help pack the
midfiled, it took time for Calmac to prise them apart. He had to drop
deeper to get a foothold but once he did, some artistry helped etch
the beginnings of a vital win.
HAYES - 7/10
So the park resembles an airfix model of the first day of Somme and
we throw in our toy soldier to provide the covering fire for a twin
strike force. Or crosses, as those in the soccer business call them.
Yet despite his wing-play, he was most useful in tidying up the left
while Pingpong showed Jamesy how it's done down the right.
You can always rely on trans-temporal Hunskelper Johny, and here we
were again with many puzzling over his selection. And here we are
again, like Hampden, like the Klan Hut, with Hayes a notable part
of a welcome triumph.
GRIFF - 6.5/10
Unhappy with the quality of fanny in Killie, Griff had a huffy
demeanour about him from the start. Snapped in a free-kick well
saved, then barreled around their packed lines trying to create
something for himself and Eddy.
When the game opened up more after the break the sparks began
to fly off Sparky - linking well, finding space, got his reward
with an assist to Alex Bruce's regular Celtic strike, a flick
off his boot as opposed to a right-bollock deflection for Broon's
winner last year. Thanks, Steve's boy.
Griff's night was cut short as he remonstrated with the Killie
crowd and seemed to be involved in a vicious bangage-throwing
altercation with a Santa impersonator in the home section of
their main stand. Read 'pederast' for that one...
FRENCH EDDY - 7.5/10
Ah, l'assassin. Missed an open goal then scored a goal
with sheer class tatooed on its arse. His turn and finish
the reason why we'll have to sell him this summer, BUT...
Not until he's lit up our hearts some more - as always, there
were more chances, due to his mercurial movement it must
be said. And one day they'll all bulge the net in one searing
90 minutes.Will this idea of a strike partner make for even
more Eddy goals? Probably. Fantastic.
SUBS:
SON OF A GUN - N/A
Go on and batter someone, son. But he never got a kick.
Of anything.
BAUER - N/A
Thrown on for the unfortunate Pingpong, amused us by infuriating
the locals with his shimmering locks. Responeded to their cries
of 'Witch!' by horsing the ball into the stand at them. Booked
for it by Don Robertson, triggering his second orgasm.
MIKEY J - 6/10
Mikey J fitted in well, given Killie is barely out the Eighties -
scintillating run and shot almost had him on the scoresheet.
LENNONY - 8/10
A selection to get the hens clucking but a smart one nonetheless.
We've gone there and tried smooth, attempted swashbuckling, looked
for some silk, ultimately blundered or scraped through. Utterly
vexing. An existential quandary.
So here's a thought that struck Lennony as he perused volumes of
Jungian philosophy in search of inspiration - let's batter the fuck
out of them.
And we did, sort of; went for the jugular with twin strikers,
pounded them for the first half hour, should have had it done and
dusted.
Therefore, his tactical approach was right - bar an uneasy ten
minutes second spell - and his selections vindicated. The most
satisfying three points he's won in a while, I suspect. Since the
last decade, I'll bet...
OVERALL - 8.5/10
Kilmarnock in the early 90s boasted two of Scotland's finest
attractions - Tommy Burns and the finest nightclub in the country.
Sadly, three decades hence there's no sizzling flame-haired midfield
maestro or The Prodigy gilding the music scene.
Now a trip to Killie holds interest only with earthy porn-peddling
poet Rabbie Burns' dubious masonic heritage and the fascinatingly
grim local wimmen who look like they just got home from chasing
Tam O'Shanter over a brig...
So remnants of glamour and quality in a once-vibrant town only
surface to memory upon the visit of the Hoops. And we do not have
too happy a history there when it comes to crucial winter games in
tight championships. Cough, 'Mowbray', Cough...
Trepidation, then, as this one loomed right after the break. And
didn't those Bhoys do well? A solid and thorough performance in
the face of solid and thoroughly ugly and brutal opponents.
One kid sacrificed for the cause is one too many - that's the level
of animal who will come to make a name for himself every game here
in.
I look forward to the arrival of Han Soro to dish out the law - make
no mistake, he's coming to aid Broon and fill-in some pseudo-Hun
wannabe title-party-poppers. We need him.
On that pitch three points is championship material. Tonight, you'd
have stood more chance picking lottery numbers than forecasting
Lennony's eventual selection; yet they clicked well and if not the
jackpot, certainly scooped a big prize.
Now we have to maintain it, shuffle the pack, get into the winning
groove that wins titles. Another one down, another step closer to
the NINE.
Next!
Sandman. For 'a that.
N'er a town surpasses for honest men and bonnie lasses...
Naw, it's Ayr I'm talkin' aboot. No' Killie - it's a hole..."
Rabbie Burns.
THE WALL - 7.5/10
Welcome to friction-burn mecca, keeper of the onion bag. Would
have been hoping for a quiet night lest his knees, thighs and
quite possibly, arse, would have resembled a teenager's first
Club Med sun exposure.
Quiet first half but tuned in with his feet - nothing was going
to stickaround, everything got the order of the boot.
Great save late on, no chance with the freaky goal from the
freaks.
PINGPONG - 8/10
Being the same size as a lego minifigure, the plastic surface
was a dream for him. The holes in the bottom of his boots fit
perfectly with the studs on the base - sorry, pitch.
And what an example of verve he was - superb spin and run to
set up the opener. Maintained his scintillating wing-back play,
opening them up and forcing their left side into damage mode
which kept Brophy quiet.
However... Wiped out the game and possibly the season by a
fucking animal on day release, the Beast of Belmarsh or
something of that ilk, a walking example of what will be
expected of all our opponents this run-in.
Let's hope Pingpong recovers at speed, that Broon has the
ogre's card well marked, and that the Belmarsh shower-rapist
is feeling frisky.
JULLIEN CLARY - 8/10 MOTM
So his tour of rancid Scottish backwoods continues down in
the Ayrshire gloaming. This killing-ground of previous title
hopes might have been a sour proposition for any newcoming
sophisticat, but not this Gallic troupador - he was propmpt
and alert, dismissing the Thistle abberation in favour of
some fine leadership from the rear.
He also won just about everything required, throwing in some
crucial blocks; a performance not to be underestimated given
that dire playing surface and our previous Livi nightmare on
same. Iced the croissant with that run and header to seal the
win - important moment in the title.
AJER - 7/10
If anyone's used to the broken-lego environs of 'Rugby Park'
- oh, the irony - it's young Ironside. The vikings landed in
Largs, just some 20 miles from Killie, but stayed away for
aesthetic reasons.
You could see our warrior was confident in these surroundings,
roving forward, making his passes out from the back count.
Another solid game when required at in crucial away fixture.
JOZO - 6.5/10
Jozo of the dodgy knee? On the sticklebrick surface? Cunning
new boot design prototype has real-grass insoles to trick Jozo's
psyche.
And it was his heid doing the early talking - produced a great
save to stop him netting the first. Then on, with heart in mouth,
we watched to see if he could cope with second-half pressure and
his least favourite pitch.
Aside from a couple of Bambi moments he came through well, even
throwing in a 'jailhouse slap' to sedate a tricky winger; damn
shame he didn't have more time to apply 'Gulag Vengeance Breathing
Moratorium' in the name of Pingpong.
BROON - 7.5/10
Back where he won the league. Back where the locals adore him...
Back picking off the scraps and providing the platform. Another
display of experienced control from the skipper. Amazingly not
booked, though with five more minutes around the Beast of Belmarsh
I suspect he might have given Don Robertson opportunity to live
out his recurring wank-fantasy.
SAM JACKSON - 7/10
Daym, git me outta here. A muthufucka rocks up at the home of
tricky muthufuckas on a chill winter night and has to skate about
on a muthufuckin melted shower cap.
Yet this muthufucka grew into a game of the type we'v eoften seen
him disappear from - like Broon this was all about muthufuckin'
control, muthufuckas.
And DAYM if he didn't exert some righteous sweeping play upon those
heathens - maybe even should and could have muthufuckin' scored a
couple of beauties, baby. But it was all about gettin' the points;
muthufuckin-A!
CALMAC - 6.5/10
Was this going to be perfect for him? - protected by a Muthufucka
and a savage captain, would there be time and space for Podgy Pirlo
to pick 'em apart?
Nope. As Killie invited members of the crowd to come help pack the
midfiled, it took time for Calmac to prise them apart. He had to drop
deeper to get a foothold but once he did, some artistry helped etch
the beginnings of a vital win.
HAYES - 7/10
So the park resembles an airfix model of the first day of Somme and
we throw in our toy soldier to provide the covering fire for a twin
strike force. Or crosses, as those in the soccer business call them.
Yet despite his wing-play, he was most useful in tidying up the left
while Pingpong showed Jamesy how it's done down the right.
You can always rely on trans-temporal Hunskelper Johny, and here we
were again with many puzzling over his selection. And here we are
again, like Hampden, like the Klan Hut, with Hayes a notable part
of a welcome triumph.
GRIFF - 6.5/10
Unhappy with the quality of fanny in Killie, Griff had a huffy
demeanour about him from the start. Snapped in a free-kick well
saved, then barreled around their packed lines trying to create
something for himself and Eddy.
When the game opened up more after the break the sparks began
to fly off Sparky - linking well, finding space, got his reward
with an assist to Alex Bruce's regular Celtic strike, a flick
off his boot as opposed to a right-bollock deflection for Broon's
winner last year. Thanks, Steve's boy.
Griff's night was cut short as he remonstrated with the Killie
crowd and seemed to be involved in a vicious bangage-throwing
altercation with a Santa impersonator in the home section of
their main stand. Read 'pederast' for that one...
FRENCH EDDY - 7.5/10
Ah, l'assassin. Missed an open goal then scored a goal
with sheer class tatooed on its arse. His turn and finish
the reason why we'll have to sell him this summer, BUT...
Not until he's lit up our hearts some more - as always, there
were more chances, due to his mercurial movement it must
be said. And one day they'll all bulge the net in one searing
90 minutes.Will this idea of a strike partner make for even
more Eddy goals? Probably. Fantastic.
SUBS:
SON OF A GUN - N/A
Go on and batter someone, son. But he never got a kick.
Of anything.
BAUER - N/A
Thrown on for the unfortunate Pingpong, amused us by infuriating
the locals with his shimmering locks. Responeded to their cries
of 'Witch!' by horsing the ball into the stand at them. Booked
for it by Don Robertson, triggering his second orgasm.
MIKEY J - 6/10
Mikey J fitted in well, given Killie is barely out the Eighties -
scintillating run and shot almost had him on the scoresheet.
LENNONY - 8/10
A selection to get the hens clucking but a smart one nonetheless.
We've gone there and tried smooth, attempted swashbuckling, looked
for some silk, ultimately blundered or scraped through. Utterly
vexing. An existential quandary.
So here's a thought that struck Lennony as he perused volumes of
Jungian philosophy in search of inspiration - let's batter the fuck
out of them.
And we did, sort of; went for the jugular with twin strikers,
pounded them for the first half hour, should have had it done and
dusted.
Therefore, his tactical approach was right - bar an uneasy ten
minutes second spell - and his selections vindicated. The most
satisfying three points he's won in a while, I suspect. Since the
last decade, I'll bet...
OVERALL - 8.5/10
Kilmarnock in the early 90s boasted two of Scotland's finest
attractions - Tommy Burns and the finest nightclub in the country.
Sadly, three decades hence there's no sizzling flame-haired midfield
maestro or The Prodigy gilding the music scene.
Now a trip to Killie holds interest only with earthy porn-peddling
poet Rabbie Burns' dubious masonic heritage and the fascinatingly
grim local wimmen who look like they just got home from chasing
Tam O'Shanter over a brig...
So remnants of glamour and quality in a once-vibrant town only
surface to memory upon the visit of the Hoops. And we do not have
too happy a history there when it comes to crucial winter games in
tight championships. Cough, 'Mowbray', Cough...
Trepidation, then, as this one loomed right after the break. And
didn't those Bhoys do well? A solid and thorough performance in
the face of solid and thoroughly ugly and brutal opponents.
One kid sacrificed for the cause is one too many - that's the level
of animal who will come to make a name for himself every game here
in.
I look forward to the arrival of Han Soro to dish out the law - make
no mistake, he's coming to aid Broon and fill-in some pseudo-Hun
wannabe title-party-poppers. We need him.
On that pitch three points is championship material. Tonight, you'd
have stood more chance picking lottery numbers than forecasting
Lennony's eventual selection; yet they clicked well and if not the
jackpot, certainly scooped a big prize.
Now we have to maintain it, shuffle the pack, get into the winning
groove that wins titles. Another one down, another step closer to
the NINE.
Next!
Sandman. For 'a that.
