Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ FARMVILLE
Q: When is a penalty not a penalty?
A: When it's given to Celtic.
Old joke on the sticks of 1980s ice-lollies Kris Boyd used
to steal from other kids in the Ayrshire Hun hellholes.
BANE - 6/10
Livened up the early first half drudgery with a
heart-in-mouth penalty-box dink narrowly over a Young
Farmer closing him down.
The fact he dinked it to Duffy in a tight position was
a double-whammy akin to watching Ripley escape the
Nostromo only to find the Alien in the escape pod.
But as we suffered under pressure he got in a telling
clearout or two in crucial moments.
JONJO O'NEILL - 6/10
So quiet, but...Like the kid at the back of the class
who said nothing but always joined in the playground
kickabouts and displayed a commendable level of
competence, and took praise with a genial smile. Far
too professional for us this season.
ALAN LADD - 5.5/10
An anxious 90 minutes for him as he feared being rustled
by locals and put to work ploughing fields with some of
his relations.
Watching through your fingers, you may have caught the
hopeless positioning as their tallest farmhand outskipped
our smallest midfielder and defender to nod in the opener,
and the remarkably cloven-hoofed giving away of the ball
deep in injury time which allowed them to mount a final
nerve-shredding attack.
Between those moments of Shane-anigans, we did get a
life-saving last-ditch tackle to stop a certainty; a
great bit of defending worth a mention.
AJER - 6/10
Not often you see fear in a Viking's eyes but the name
on the teamsheet beside him had Kristiano screaming like
Janet Leigh.
Did it affect him on the park? Well, more subdued than
usual and if clumsiness is contagious he might want to
get a test after a few unforced errors. He did, however,
emerge relatively unscathed with a win.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 7/10
This might be a breakfast time kick off for some of us,
but for Greggs it's positively evensong. Unfortunately
still crosses like a Hun in chapel, BUT his committment
is outstanding; will not hide, and in a season like this
has been, he may yet emerge as the best/surprise
emergence of a period best forgotten.
BROON - 7/10
What the fuck is going on when Broon looks your most
composed and comfortable-on-the-ball midfielder? Captain
played a game of harnessed, sullen menace - burdened by
our malfunctioning midfield - and thankfully managed to
interfere and rally the Bhoys to victory when we needed
him most.
CALMAC - 5/10
Give the wee mhan a rest! The gyre of glory for the past
Ghod-knows-how-long just looks burnt out and running on
empty these days. This is Calmac playing from memory much
as, for many of us, attempting to remember what it was
like to stand in a pub with a pint watching the Hoops.
Like your browser after a hefty session on pornhub, he
needs refreshing. The question is, why am I the one
pointing this out when there's a whole coaching staff
around him?
ROGIC - 6/10
Was he going to reproduce a Paisley pattern and thrill
us all again with vintage Oz? First-half he flared into
life with some customary beguiling footwork, loping runs,
and nearly opened the scoring.
But Oz needs linkups, and as the game wore on and The
Hoops' engine stuck in neutral, his day became reminiscent
of Morelos's childhood in the cannibal village - nobody
wanted to play with him.
CORPUS CHRISTIE - 6.5/10
Back in after Lennony received a stern letter from his
Dad. Was still floating about in an ineffectively
irritable fashion when suddenly the Corpus of previous
incarnation appeared like an apparition to provide a
zipping cutback and a deft dummy to help win the match.
Doubting Thomas ain't fooled though - he's still just
a naughty boy pretending to be the Messiah.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 4/10
Dogged by poor choices all game. Never quite got into
it as his touch was off, and couldn't buy a pass from
Poundland if they were on offer at 99p.
FRENCH EDDY - 8.5/10 MOTM
Living out his homage to Neitzsche's decade of isolation
and creativity. Well, isolation. Then came the creativity,
and the matchwinner won the match. Instinct, predatory
cunning and mesmerising feet all on show - a shop window
display that would have made Ramone from the Galeries
Lafayette positively swoon.
We have to enjoy this jewel in the Fenian Crown while we
can - what other gem will come here now? This one's a
thoroughbred who's been worked like a donkey, by an ass.
(See how I didn't mention Shane Duffy in the previous
sentence at all, equine enthusiasts?)
In miserable conditions, in the midst of another miserable
collective effort, the 'lazy' Gallic enigma was simply
superbe, or merveilleux as they say in Canada, for some
fucking reason, despite being a million miles from France;
pretentious bastards...
SUBS:
GRIFF - N/A
Came on, endured a strenuous couple of minutes before
fatigue affected his first touch.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - N/A
Easy money replacing the ineffective before him. Made a
nuisance of himself well enough to see out the game.
LENNONY - 6/10
Having a retro Sunday can involve listening to The Stones
and watching some DeNiro/Scorcese from the 70s. Maybe even
the Bannana Splits if you've any acid tabs left in the fridge
from Saturday
night...
Lennony likes to chuck up a formation and selection we thought
we'd seen the back of x-amount of disappointments ago. The old
can-McStay-and-Collins-play-in-the-same-midfield argument is
another he has replicated with his refusal to run Soro beside
Broon. The answers is 'fuck, yes' by the way.
So again a win is built on individuals excelling rather than
a team combining overall; It was so in Lennony's day which
may explain the alarming lack of cohesion and pattern we've
devolved into. He forgets that his Celtic team contained a King
like no other and notable matchwinning stars like Sutty and Hartson.
Now we/he has Eddy. And that's it. And when Eddy's gone, that's
all folks - just like those retro cartoons ended with.
OVERALL - 6.5/10
Another win. Yay. But this one was as laboured and haphazard
as any previously. We play in shorter spells now because of poor
conditioning.
That doesn't mean to say Celtic players are unfit - far from it;
we're as fit as oppontents. Which is a problem. You don't win
invincible trebles with the last kick of the season by just
matching the rest.
The little wayward passes, the simple connections gone awry -
all signs of the less than exceptional conditioning that
separates the winners from the also-ran; that physical and
mental uber-sharpness which gives them the edge.
You only really notice it when it's gone. When poor results
and performances begin to accumulate and that ocassional
misfire of the invincible season becomes a regular occurrence...
And here we are. Trailing the Abominables by double figures on
a day of tradition and celebration - Administration Day. It
starts at the top amid hubris and conceit, and trickles down
into every facet of the organisation.
Four wins on the trot and not a dent in the hull of the Titanic.
The Huns will sink eventually, and we'll open the popcorn to
watch the bastards drown again. But not before they've achieved
their dastardly mission. And not before we realise we've thrown
away the opportunity of a generation by lackadasical, criminal
negligence.
So to Wednesday, and on we go for five-in-a-row... Because ten's
just a dream we dared to dream. Insert sigh here.
Go Away now.
Sandman.
Q: When is a penalty not a penalty?
A: When it's given to Celtic.
Old joke on the sticks of 1980s ice-lollies Kris Boyd used
to steal from other kids in the Ayrshire Hun hellholes.
BANE - 6/10
Livened up the early first half drudgery with a
heart-in-mouth penalty-box dink narrowly over a Young
Farmer closing him down.
The fact he dinked it to Duffy in a tight position was
a double-whammy akin to watching Ripley escape the
Nostromo only to find the Alien in the escape pod.
But as we suffered under pressure he got in a telling
clearout or two in crucial moments.
JONJO O'NEILL - 6/10
So quiet, but...Like the kid at the back of the class
who said nothing but always joined in the playground
kickabouts and displayed a commendable level of
competence, and took praise with a genial smile. Far
too professional for us this season.
ALAN LADD - 5.5/10
An anxious 90 minutes for him as he feared being rustled
by locals and put to work ploughing fields with some of
his relations.
Watching through your fingers, you may have caught the
hopeless positioning as their tallest farmhand outskipped
our smallest midfielder and defender to nod in the opener,
and the remarkably cloven-hoofed giving away of the ball
deep in injury time which allowed them to mount a final
nerve-shredding attack.
Between those moments of Shane-anigans, we did get a
life-saving last-ditch tackle to stop a certainty; a
great bit of defending worth a mention.
AJER - 6/10
Not often you see fear in a Viking's eyes but the name
on the teamsheet beside him had Kristiano screaming like
Janet Leigh.
Did it affect him on the park? Well, more subdued than
usual and if clumsiness is contagious he might want to
get a test after a few unforced errors. He did, however,
emerge relatively unscathed with a win.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 7/10
This might be a breakfast time kick off for some of us,
but for Greggs it's positively evensong. Unfortunately
still crosses like a Hun in chapel, BUT his committment
is outstanding; will not hide, and in a season like this
has been, he may yet emerge as the best/surprise
emergence of a period best forgotten.
BROON - 7/10
What the fuck is going on when Broon looks your most
composed and comfortable-on-the-ball midfielder? Captain
played a game of harnessed, sullen menace - burdened by
our malfunctioning midfield - and thankfully managed to
interfere and rally the Bhoys to victory when we needed
him most.
CALMAC - 5/10
Give the wee mhan a rest! The gyre of glory for the past
Ghod-knows-how-long just looks burnt out and running on
empty these days. This is Calmac playing from memory much
as, for many of us, attempting to remember what it was
like to stand in a pub with a pint watching the Hoops.
Like your browser after a hefty session on pornhub, he
needs refreshing. The question is, why am I the one
pointing this out when there's a whole coaching staff
around him?
ROGIC - 6/10
Was he going to reproduce a Paisley pattern and thrill
us all again with vintage Oz? First-half he flared into
life with some customary beguiling footwork, loping runs,
and nearly opened the scoring.
But Oz needs linkups, and as the game wore on and The
Hoops' engine stuck in neutral, his day became reminiscent
of Morelos's childhood in the cannibal village - nobody
wanted to play with him.
CORPUS CHRISTIE - 6.5/10
Back in after Lennony received a stern letter from his
Dad. Was still floating about in an ineffectively
irritable fashion when suddenly the Corpus of previous
incarnation appeared like an apparition to provide a
zipping cutback and a deft dummy to help win the match.
Doubting Thomas ain't fooled though - he's still just
a naughty boy pretending to be the Messiah.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 4/10
Dogged by poor choices all game. Never quite got into
it as his touch was off, and couldn't buy a pass from
Poundland if they were on offer at 99p.
FRENCH EDDY - 8.5/10 MOTM
Living out his homage to Neitzsche's decade of isolation
and creativity. Well, isolation. Then came the creativity,
and the matchwinner won the match. Instinct, predatory
cunning and mesmerising feet all on show - a shop window
display that would have made Ramone from the Galeries
Lafayette positively swoon.
We have to enjoy this jewel in the Fenian Crown while we
can - what other gem will come here now? This one's a
thoroughbred who's been worked like a donkey, by an ass.
(See how I didn't mention Shane Duffy in the previous
sentence at all, equine enthusiasts?)
In miserable conditions, in the midst of another miserable
collective effort, the 'lazy' Gallic enigma was simply
superbe, or merveilleux as they say in Canada, for some
fucking reason, despite being a million miles from France;
pretentious bastards...
SUBS:
GRIFF - N/A
Came on, endured a strenuous couple of minutes before
fatigue affected his first touch.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - N/A
Easy money replacing the ineffective before him. Made a
nuisance of himself well enough to see out the game.
LENNONY - 6/10
Having a retro Sunday can involve listening to The Stones
and watching some DeNiro/Scorcese from the 70s. Maybe even
the Bannana Splits if you've any acid tabs left in the fridge
from Saturday
night...
Lennony likes to chuck up a formation and selection we thought
we'd seen the back of x-amount of disappointments ago. The old
can-McStay-and-Collins-play-in-the-same-midfield argument is
another he has replicated with his refusal to run Soro beside
Broon. The answers is 'fuck, yes' by the way.
So again a win is built on individuals excelling rather than
a team combining overall; It was so in Lennony's day which
may explain the alarming lack of cohesion and pattern we've
devolved into. He forgets that his Celtic team contained a King
like no other and notable matchwinning stars like Sutty and Hartson.
Now we/he has Eddy. And that's it. And when Eddy's gone, that's
all folks - just like those retro cartoons ended with.
OVERALL - 6.5/10
Another win. Yay. But this one was as laboured and haphazard
as any previously. We play in shorter spells now because of poor
conditioning.
That doesn't mean to say Celtic players are unfit - far from it;
we're as fit as oppontents. Which is a problem. You don't win
invincible trebles with the last kick of the season by just
matching the rest.
The little wayward passes, the simple connections gone awry -
all signs of the less than exceptional conditioning that
separates the winners from the also-ran; that physical and
mental uber-sharpness which gives them the edge.
You only really notice it when it's gone. When poor results
and performances begin to accumulate and that ocassional
misfire of the invincible season becomes a regular occurrence...
And here we are. Trailing the Abominables by double figures on
a day of tradition and celebration - Administration Day. It
starts at the top amid hubris and conceit, and trickles down
into every facet of the organisation.
Four wins on the trot and not a dent in the hull of the Titanic.
The Huns will sink eventually, and we'll open the popcorn to
watch the bastards drown again. But not before they've achieved
their dastardly mission. And not before we realise we've thrown
away the opportunity of a generation by lackadasical, criminal
negligence.
So to Wednesday, and on we go for five-in-a-row... Because ten's
just a dream we dared to dream. Insert sigh here.
Go Away now.
Sandman.
Last edited:
I've already won, then.
