Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ FIR-KED PARK
"President Fenian Pumps Big Angry Orange Bastard"
The Irish Time U.S Presidential coverage.
BANE - 6.5/10
Best passer we've got... Admirable peppering of ball around the
pitch by a keepr who looks like he indulges himself outfield
in five-a -side games. Definitely a strength to ping 90% of
your 20 yard plus passes with accuracy.
On the handling aspect, he was without fault; thought at first
he pussied their goal but on replay credit to header that gave
him no chance
PINGPONG - 6/10
From suicidal to swashbuckling to survivor. He's young, so you
get the full range of impetuous insecurity. Great energy, electric
bursts to flatfoot opponents; nothing particulary spectacular on
the playing side, more a story today of relief that he escaped a
savage machete attack with leg intact. more of that, later...
BITTON - 6.5/10
Who's feeling more secure today, big Mossad... All the assassin
training never prepared him to glance right and find Duffy, so
the welcome stature of our youthful no-nonsense viking must have
put Nir at ease. Mostly cruised it but beaten fair and square by
the physicality of their war-golem who powered in a good header.
AJER - 7/10
Solidity: That's what our defensive line benefits from with
his presence. At most there's something resembling a unit formed
around him, at least, there's a stronger sense of security and
command. Worrying resurgence of his wanking injury late on; let's
hope Lennony has his hands duck-taped behind his back over the
next fornight.
LAXALT - 7/10
So what do you get extra from your Serie A loanee? The smarts;
Mental sharpness to compliment the physical talent - exemplified
by his timely interceptions as we struggled for a time and capped
by a double-clearance off the line as he chased the ball around
our six-yard box while plenty stood static.
And when he catches it right, a mean whip of a cross comes off
that cultured left boot.
BROON - 7.5/10
Majestic. Presidential, even... Surprisingly played slightly in advance
of Calmac from the start. And he was in and about everything;
never put a foot wrong the first hour of the game, reprising his
Aberdeen semi dominance of last week, pressing them high, nicking,
spoiling, building. Great game, skipper.
CALMAC - 6/10
'Sssh, it's so...qui-et...' and our own Bjork tip-toed gently
through another game. Not that that's (Hi, English teachers...)
a problem today - Calmac's main task was sitting in front of the
defence, letting Broon roam about taking scalps ahead of him.
Not in tandem for a change, it worked, and surprisingly, it was
only after they swapped roles that Murderwell gained a foothold;
go figure. However, horses for courses - he was competent and
infrequently inventive with his footballer's brain sparking
ocassionally, and we will expect more influence as the
season progresses.
ROGIC - 7.5/10
'You're beautiful, man..." Tom Cruise, Rainman (1988). "And in
the morning I'll be sober and you'll still be beautiful..."
The Dreamers (2003)
A magniicent footballing Antipodean gift to Celtic who turns
games with effortless guile. In the midst of SPL slugfests he'll
appear like a swan in a swamp to bewitch ranks of gargoyles
and conjour some moment of awe. The second goal footwork,
and the box-to-box Walkabout - gorgeous.
Keep him fit, keep him protected; will he be the season's sensation,
back from the brink? Cross everything you've got.
CORPUS CHRISTIE - 6/10
God-damn, The Saviour's Sacrelige of The Season - despoiling a
Great Celtic Moment with a finishing swipe from the Sebo Playbook;
after the sweeping magnificence of the Rogic Bush Trek from
defending a corner in our box to teeing up Corpus on the edge
of theirs... and Ryan fisnishes it like his Da'... Art defiled. Like taking a
slash in the Sistine Chapel.
That aside, he was his usual sprightly self without too much impact,
floating around the edges toying with the idea of being effective;
a 'nearly' game as ultimate timing evaded him.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 8/10 MOTM
"You'd better notch a hat-trick on Sundya, ya cunt," said the text
from the Green Brigade. And you got to give it to him - he responded
with a contribution deserving of a MOTM. His headed third matched the
one we'd conceded minutes prior and was the most welcome surprise
since the Xmas when my inebriated wife completely phonetically
misinterpreted a request that she 'fuck-off'...
Elshag will continue to prompt debate about affordable luxuries but
when he's providing the quality on vital days like this, there's no
arguing over the invoice.
THE YETI - 6/10
'Angry as fuck' is his default setting and it pays dividends when we
require a combative presence to take some heat; good stealing work
first goal and generally all first half to occupy the meatheads and
let our flair bhoys profit.
Might have scored himself second period before leaving the field in
reassuringly angry fashion.
SUBS:
HAT ATTACK - 6.5/10
Impact Sub #1 - THAT'S how to cross a ball, PingPong/Corpus. Textbook
delivery at precisely the right time; not only producing a splendid
header but also a coddle-warming wave of relief that washed over Timland.
SAM JACKSON - 6.5/10
Impact Muthufucka #2 - "I'm Strokin...Muthufuckas..." sang Clarence
Carter and our Muthufucka stroked the shine on the day with a muthufucka
of a finish after spending his ten minute cameo playing Frenchman-only
keep-ball with Eddy.
FRENCH EDDY - N/A
Kind of meandered around until Sam Jackson arrived to give him the ball,
and duly involved in the Muthufucka's crowning glory.
ALAN LADD - N/A
Tension as he took to the field and got outjumped under the ball by
Murderwell sub who nearly scored. Lack of communication with other
defenders might be down to nobody speaking Donkey. That unfair? Neeeigh...
LENNONY - 7/10
Well, brutalised across social media by the Monday Morning Steins, this
was a game whereby empires may fall. Defeat would have been catastrophic
to his tenure, yet how many forget he's the manager who inflicted the
first defeat of the season on a world class Barca side 8 years ago this
week; a victory hailed as a tactical masterclass, probably by those
currently out to plunge the knives into Caesar's back...
How quickly nobodies forget... But legends prevail, and this one's not
finished. He's on a match-to-match crucifixion watch - taking some pressure
off Corpus... - and today they never even got the hammer and nails out.
His tweaked set-up - Broon ahead of Calmac, running interference high -
worked a treat to disturb the hosts out of any pretentions to disrupt, and
faith in his quality players to deliver the goods was justified.
One way or another he won't survive the TEN - he'll either fall upon his
sword or go out in a blaze of glory. The smug Huns are counting their filthy
lucre, but remember Messi, Xavi, Iniesta, et al... - they once bet against
him too.
OVERALL - 7.5/10
Tonic. With gin. Bit of a wobble mid second-half as we subtly altered
positional play but in the end the glass was full, and thank Ghod that
trek to Tinfoil Town is over and triumphant.
Celtic gripped the game between their teeth and didn't let go until
the life was shaken from their stubborn opposition.
Led by Broon - who's finished by the way/legs gone/fitness evaporated/
etc according to pie-munching Green Huns - whose professionalism you
doubt at the forefit of your Celtic soul, the side were to a man most
impressive in their mental fortitude. It was the perfect reponse to the
torrid negativity ignited by Thursdays shambles.
At some point we'll knit it together and take off like Prof Brown's DeLorean -
we'll scorch through historical firewalls and it'll be a steel gauntlet
thrown down to nearest challengers Aberdeen to see if they can match the
Hoops in full flight. Don't be fooled by SMSM hack-wank-fantasy - Only
WE can stop the TEN.
EPILOGUE - ANDREW DALLAS
The word 'cunt' is a contentious, provocative one, a word which brings with
it gravity and impact - beautifully utilised by Irvine Welsh, generally
best deployed by Scottish linguistic talents as pseudo-wit laced with
coruscating effect, though Billy Butcher in The Boys (Amazon, recommended)
has a current monopoly on humourous delivery.
In the context of Andrew 'Damien' Dallas, Spawn of Satan it would be completely
explanatory tagged on as an emphasised noun to the description 'sleekit wee cunt'.
The numerous pernickety fouls awarded in our half to Motherwell for innocuous
contact, those NOT awarded to Celtic in contrast, offsides ignored by his cohorts
and the insulting, grinding reluctance NOT to pull a card for the Jaws-inspired
attack on Pingpong's thigh. Wasn't even a straight red - it was instant provo
firing squad. Damien squeezed out a yellow like a constipated stray jackal pup.
It's cheating by attrition, an ironic masonic 'technique' - so facepalm-ingly
blatant in its delusion of stealth that it's almost comical.
You'd think this sleekit wee cunt - English teachers, hello again... - had
gotten over picking the glass out of his Coco-Pops by now.
But we're seeing the Nosferatu shadow of Daddy Dallas creeping up the
wall of the tunnel every time he's 'officiacting' the Hoops. Which will be
quite a lot between now and the TEN, I'd wager. Perpare yourselves.
Go Away Now. For A Fortnight.
Sandman.
"President Fenian Pumps Big Angry Orange Bastard"
The Irish Time U.S Presidential coverage.
BANE - 6.5/10
Best passer we've got... Admirable peppering of ball around the
pitch by a keepr who looks like he indulges himself outfield
in five-a -side games. Definitely a strength to ping 90% of
your 20 yard plus passes with accuracy.
On the handling aspect, he was without fault; thought at first
he pussied their goal but on replay credit to header that gave
him no chance
PINGPONG - 6/10
From suicidal to swashbuckling to survivor. He's young, so you
get the full range of impetuous insecurity. Great energy, electric
bursts to flatfoot opponents; nothing particulary spectacular on
the playing side, more a story today of relief that he escaped a
savage machete attack with leg intact. more of that, later...
BITTON - 6.5/10
Who's feeling more secure today, big Mossad... All the assassin
training never prepared him to glance right and find Duffy, so
the welcome stature of our youthful no-nonsense viking must have
put Nir at ease. Mostly cruised it but beaten fair and square by
the physicality of their war-golem who powered in a good header.
AJER - 7/10
Solidity: That's what our defensive line benefits from with
his presence. At most there's something resembling a unit formed
around him, at least, there's a stronger sense of security and
command. Worrying resurgence of his wanking injury late on; let's
hope Lennony has his hands duck-taped behind his back over the
next fornight.
LAXALT - 7/10
So what do you get extra from your Serie A loanee? The smarts;
Mental sharpness to compliment the physical talent - exemplified
by his timely interceptions as we struggled for a time and capped
by a double-clearance off the line as he chased the ball around
our six-yard box while plenty stood static.
And when he catches it right, a mean whip of a cross comes off
that cultured left boot.
BROON - 7.5/10
Majestic. Presidential, even... Surprisingly played slightly in advance
of Calmac from the start. And he was in and about everything;
never put a foot wrong the first hour of the game, reprising his
Aberdeen semi dominance of last week, pressing them high, nicking,
spoiling, building. Great game, skipper.
CALMAC - 6/10
'Sssh, it's so...qui-et...' and our own Bjork tip-toed gently
through another game. Not that that's (Hi, English teachers...)
a problem today - Calmac's main task was sitting in front of the
defence, letting Broon roam about taking scalps ahead of him.
Not in tandem for a change, it worked, and surprisingly, it was
only after they swapped roles that Murderwell gained a foothold;
go figure. However, horses for courses - he was competent and
infrequently inventive with his footballer's brain sparking
ocassionally, and we will expect more influence as the
season progresses.
ROGIC - 7.5/10
'You're beautiful, man..." Tom Cruise, Rainman (1988). "And in
the morning I'll be sober and you'll still be beautiful..."
The Dreamers (2003)
A magniicent footballing Antipodean gift to Celtic who turns
games with effortless guile. In the midst of SPL slugfests he'll
appear like a swan in a swamp to bewitch ranks of gargoyles
and conjour some moment of awe. The second goal footwork,
and the box-to-box Walkabout - gorgeous.
Keep him fit, keep him protected; will he be the season's sensation,
back from the brink? Cross everything you've got.
CORPUS CHRISTIE - 6/10
God-damn, The Saviour's Sacrelige of The Season - despoiling a
Great Celtic Moment with a finishing swipe from the Sebo Playbook;
after the sweeping magnificence of the Rogic Bush Trek from
defending a corner in our box to teeing up Corpus on the edge
of theirs... and Ryan fisnishes it like his Da'... Art defiled. Like taking a
slash in the Sistine Chapel.
That aside, he was his usual sprightly self without too much impact,
floating around the edges toying with the idea of being effective;
a 'nearly' game as ultimate timing evaded him.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 8/10 MOTM
"You'd better notch a hat-trick on Sundya, ya cunt," said the text
from the Green Brigade. And you got to give it to him - he responded
with a contribution deserving of a MOTM. His headed third matched the
one we'd conceded minutes prior and was the most welcome surprise
since the Xmas when my inebriated wife completely phonetically
misinterpreted a request that she 'fuck-off'...
Elshag will continue to prompt debate about affordable luxuries but
when he's providing the quality on vital days like this, there's no
arguing over the invoice.
THE YETI - 6/10
'Angry as fuck' is his default setting and it pays dividends when we
require a combative presence to take some heat; good stealing work
first goal and generally all first half to occupy the meatheads and
let our flair bhoys profit.
Might have scored himself second period before leaving the field in
reassuringly angry fashion.
SUBS:
HAT ATTACK - 6.5/10
Impact Sub #1 - THAT'S how to cross a ball, PingPong/Corpus. Textbook
delivery at precisely the right time; not only producing a splendid
header but also a coddle-warming wave of relief that washed over Timland.
SAM JACKSON - 6.5/10
Impact Muthufucka #2 - "I'm Strokin...Muthufuckas..." sang Clarence
Carter and our Muthufucka stroked the shine on the day with a muthufucka
of a finish after spending his ten minute cameo playing Frenchman-only
keep-ball with Eddy.
FRENCH EDDY - N/A
Kind of meandered around until Sam Jackson arrived to give him the ball,
and duly involved in the Muthufucka's crowning glory.
ALAN LADD - N/A
Tension as he took to the field and got outjumped under the ball by
Murderwell sub who nearly scored. Lack of communication with other
defenders might be down to nobody speaking Donkey. That unfair? Neeeigh...
LENNONY - 7/10
Well, brutalised across social media by the Monday Morning Steins, this
was a game whereby empires may fall. Defeat would have been catastrophic
to his tenure, yet how many forget he's the manager who inflicted the
first defeat of the season on a world class Barca side 8 years ago this
week; a victory hailed as a tactical masterclass, probably by those
currently out to plunge the knives into Caesar's back...
How quickly nobodies forget... But legends prevail, and this one's not
finished. He's on a match-to-match crucifixion watch - taking some pressure
off Corpus... - and today they never even got the hammer and nails out.
His tweaked set-up - Broon ahead of Calmac, running interference high -
worked a treat to disturb the hosts out of any pretentions to disrupt, and
faith in his quality players to deliver the goods was justified.
One way or another he won't survive the TEN - he'll either fall upon his
sword or go out in a blaze of glory. The smug Huns are counting their filthy
lucre, but remember Messi, Xavi, Iniesta, et al... - they once bet against
him too.
OVERALL - 7.5/10
Tonic. With gin. Bit of a wobble mid second-half as we subtly altered
positional play but in the end the glass was full, and thank Ghod that
trek to Tinfoil Town is over and triumphant.
Celtic gripped the game between their teeth and didn't let go until
the life was shaken from their stubborn opposition.
Led by Broon - who's finished by the way/legs gone/fitness evaporated/
etc according to pie-munching Green Huns - whose professionalism you
doubt at the forefit of your Celtic soul, the side were to a man most
impressive in their mental fortitude. It was the perfect reponse to the
torrid negativity ignited by Thursdays shambles.
At some point we'll knit it together and take off like Prof Brown's DeLorean -
we'll scorch through historical firewalls and it'll be a steel gauntlet
thrown down to nearest challengers Aberdeen to see if they can match the
Hoops in full flight. Don't be fooled by SMSM hack-wank-fantasy - Only
WE can stop the TEN.
EPILOGUE - ANDREW DALLAS
The word 'cunt' is a contentious, provocative one, a word which brings with
it gravity and impact - beautifully utilised by Irvine Welsh, generally
best deployed by Scottish linguistic talents as pseudo-wit laced with
coruscating effect, though Billy Butcher in The Boys (Amazon, recommended)
has a current monopoly on humourous delivery.
In the context of Andrew 'Damien' Dallas, Spawn of Satan it would be completely
explanatory tagged on as an emphasised noun to the description 'sleekit wee cunt'.
The numerous pernickety fouls awarded in our half to Motherwell for innocuous
contact, those NOT awarded to Celtic in contrast, offsides ignored by his cohorts
and the insulting, grinding reluctance NOT to pull a card for the Jaws-inspired
attack on Pingpong's thigh. Wasn't even a straight red - it was instant provo
firing squad. Damien squeezed out a yellow like a constipated stray jackal pup.
It's cheating by attrition, an ironic masonic 'technique' - so facepalm-ingly
blatant in its delusion of stealth that it's almost comical.
You'd think this sleekit wee cunt - English teachers, hello again... - had
gotten over picking the glass out of his Coco-Pops by now.
But we're seeing the Nosferatu shadow of Daddy Dallas creeping up the
wall of the tunnel every time he's 'officiacting' the Hoops. Which will be
quite a lot between now and the TEN, I'd wager. Perpare yourselves.
Go Away Now. For A Fortnight.
Sandman.
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