Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC QUADROFENIAN TREBLE WINNERS v PSEUDOHUNS
'What's on at Hampden today? Unfinished Monkey Business.'
Ian Brown.
"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see
its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."
The Litany Against Fear. Scott Brown.
HAZARD - 3/10 - 10/10 (Shootout)
An ocassion too much for a boy overwhelmed by nerves
that clouded decision-making and highlighted his inability
to clear-out a cross. The name said it all.
BUT... When moments were reduced to a simple do or die,
his instinct triumphed with a particularly difficult double-stop,
changing his sides according to the moment.
Ultimately, redemption, heroism, glory and a place in history.
JULLIEN CLARY - 6/10
What's French for 'Get out the fucking way!'? Now understands
the dilemma of trying to horse-train during a cup final. It invites
debacle.
Appeared imperial first-half then driven demented by the babysitting
requirements second-half. Won very little in their box, surprisingly,
But during extra-time was the only of our titans to make some telling
defensive headers.
AJER - 7.5/10
Well, rampaging right-back rocked back on his heels after the break,
given pause for thought by a Hearts side having a go.
This season some have failed to stand up and be counted - NOT this
big lump. Did you hear his interview after it all? - he WANTED
that penalty at that precise time.
No hiding. Big lad, big heart, big baws (ladies...).
And you'll read about how Ajer 'slammed' in the penalty winner, or
'crashed ' or 'thumped' it.
No, let me elucidate, illustrate by creative use of the English
language to absolutely provide the correct adjective - big Kris
FUCKED that in.
ALAN LADD - 4/10
Aw, God... So much promise from a first 45 of competence and
reliability. Even managed a stunning sliding block 2nd half,
but amid... Well, an impromptu recreation of Miller and Hansen's
'82 World Cup debacle. And Pirlo-ing the ball into the stands.
And worryingly left on the ball too much, but I've no sympathy
for the criminal weakness of that Celtic backline at set-pieces.
He's principally in there to be a ball-winning stallion, not a
donkey.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 5.5/10
Goddamn, bhoy, can you sling in an early cross or not? I'd
applaud him more for trying and failing often than the incessant,
momentum-killing checkbacks. Ball-retention is not all, especially
when we play with a lone striker who is making runs and burning
pace to get on the end of... Nothing balls. Be more adventurous.
BROON - 9/10 MOTM
Well, let's hear it. Let's hear the soccer fans try and work out how
you win a football match. By 'moving the ball quick'. By pace and
guile. Yes. But what happens when the craftsmen evaporate and
the going gets tough and you can't rely on Billy Ocean?
What happens when the 300 are a pile of spears and you're Leonidis
stood there alone against the preening, rampant Pseudo Huns with
the smell of fenian blood in their hairy nostrils...
So tonight, doubters, fall onto your knees and thank the Celtic
Ghods there's Broon. Captain. Leader. LEGEND.
His swagger in the first half exploded orange heids everywhere.
I want the audio of him winding up degenerate Hun Halliday the
commentator alluded to and a compilation of his tussles with
nasal-sex freak (obviosusly, that voice...) Stampy Naismith.
Broony, whose 'legs are gone'... Gone enough to pop up in the
115th minute on a gruelling farmyard of a pitch and almost score,
yet set up Griff. Who only retired from the battle due to a groin
injury and had to watch agonised as the pussies left on the
park surrendered a precious lead again.
And then he got his moment. A 12th successive trophy lifted
above his diamond-hard heid. And has there been one more
personally deserved?
CALMAC - 5/10
What a disappointment. The metronome turned to gnome and
we lost control of a game we might have been 5-0 up in had we
maintained the rhythm. And that is Calmac's forte and responsibility.
This type of game, against inferior opposition anxiously herding
into their own box in fear of a hiding, was made for him. That he
let the throttle loosen and the match slide from his control is
head-scratching and metaphorical of the season to date.
CHRISTIE - 4/10
Wonder goals are all very well - and worth 4 points on their own.
But utter shitebaggery in a historical cup final the face of a turning
tide and resurgent opponents just isn't on.
'Course anyone can disagree but what I saw today from Ryan
was a guy loading up his Youtube highlight reel then protecting
himself in anticipation of a desired move...
He won his place in this side through hard work, particularly
toughening up, and seizing his opportunity 3 years ago. Today, after
the spectacular and skillful was edged out by the need for graft and
combat, he quit it in the most reprehensible of ways. Ultimatey gifted
the free for their late third. His penalty exemplified the fugue he'd
fallen into.
This is Celtic, Ryan. Committment is everything. Maybe it's too late in
your case.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 6/10
Keen to get at Hearts after a near 100 year hiatus, his first-half mobility
and guile had the Famous Five haunting Gorgie. Then, as the mystery of
transformation took hold, he took a sore one and hobbled off to his
wheelchair and respirator leaving us bereft in the middle.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 4/10
Come on. Too much money and material is wasted on his Celtic jersey.
Drifting in and out of games at his whim is his given shtick - a luxury
and sometimes easy on the eye but I'm not buying it; leaves Eddy
stranded and burning energy, shows inconsistently for out-balls and
on breaks.
He can produce moments of class but his cost is a man down when
waiting for him to decide to link in. We need a consistent presence,
not a guy who'll turn it on when it suits him.
FRENCH EDDY - 7/10
Dink! Le cless. But what a wall of toothless ugliness he was up against,
flying Han Solo. Today he DID battle admirably whilst buffeted from
loping ghoul to lumbering gargoyle, often facing a forest of maroon
as he dropped, took and turned. All in all, until his legs cramped beyond
reviving, he was pretty formidab'le'.
SUBS:
GRIFF - 8/10
Impact, baby, impact. As Griff says in the clubs. And what a sniffer's goal it
was. Gerd muller would have whistled in admiration of his reaction and turn.
Only, he was denied that glory by the incompetence behind him. Still, just
dream of a Griff and Eddy strike partnership given time and service...
MAN OF - N/A
Last 15 in place of Broon to shore up. Nope, scrub that.
ROGIC - 6/10
A wandering bush tucker man gliding around the rotten Hampden surface was
the stuff of cup final match-winning. 3 years ago. Today there was a paucity of
time on the ball for him as we toiled.
Yet he had fenian couches lonely everywhere as he produced a passage of
bedazzling magic in the rain that maybe should have killed the game
off. But, pointedly, we only had Griff in their box to support and who made
the wrong move too early. About the season in a nutshell.
PINGPONG - 4/10
Looked short in confidence, popped around but cut inside too often,
didn't dare enough to take them on and test them against his pace.
MIKEY J - 7/10
For that cool, cynical penalty, after flaffing around the pitch a while,
sand-dancing in the wrong areas.
DREXL - N/A
Keen to get on, ran about with usual keenness for a little while. Keen
to see him start next week.
LENNONY - 7/10
Ooh, you got lucky, Lennony. But... Let's hope the gallows are dismantled
outside Paradise by the time the team bus returns.
Yet the team he picked had the job done by half-time, didn't they? Is it the manager's
fault the majority of well-paid pros disappear like a Hun at a charity drive as soon
as adversity strikes?
Many of self-righteous piety will tell you the blame lies at the feet of 'Lennon',
accented with a snarl. But these are the same people incapable of separating ego
from opinion; they won't change one because the other demands too much fluffing;
Like porn stars set to complete a scene, there's no backing down for some.
I love the irony that the man they dared him not to pick - the 'old guard' - was the
Last Tim Standing who would not fold, who took the honours of the day.
Lennony won, as we all expected, as many, many demanded; that's some kind of
pressure to live with, as you might have seen while he stood alone in the aftermath,
gazing skyward, taking it all in.
Well done, Lennony, you delivered the quadruple treble against the odds, and in
spite of populist opinion your memory will live long with the mantle of Celtic Legend.
OVERALL - 12/12
What do you say to sum that up? 'Fuck'? Probably the word you used most all day.
For me it was 'Goodness'; 'Goodness to fuck!' 'For fucking goodness sake!'. That
sort of thing...
You win a cup tie in the first twenty minutes, goes the age-old aphorism.
So we did.
And then they won it back.
What the goodness fuck? See, there it is again.
Ultimately, it was the glorious last-kick victory we all might have loved had
the script been written prior and we'd been allowed a read: A great Celtic
collapse with EVERY Diet, closet, and Full-Orc Hun across the dark expanse of
Zombieland looking in with unhealthy glee. Tims pegged back twice, once
from the dead (ironically...) and then they miss the crucial 3rd pen in
the shootout...
I expect most of them almost missed the shootout turnabout in a mist of jizz,
only to be sickened to the pit of their black souls as big Kristiano FUCKED in
the winner.
Ah, glory days, but how on earth do we rationalise that one...
Goodness to fuck knows.
Sandman. Guinness Away Now.
'What's on at Hampden today? Unfinished Monkey Business.'
Ian Brown.
"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see
its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."
The Litany Against Fear. Scott Brown.
HAZARD - 3/10 - 10/10 (Shootout)
An ocassion too much for a boy overwhelmed by nerves
that clouded decision-making and highlighted his inability
to clear-out a cross. The name said it all.
BUT... When moments were reduced to a simple do or die,
his instinct triumphed with a particularly difficult double-stop,
changing his sides according to the moment.
Ultimately, redemption, heroism, glory and a place in history.
JULLIEN CLARY - 6/10
What's French for 'Get out the fucking way!'? Now understands
the dilemma of trying to horse-train during a cup final. It invites
debacle.
Appeared imperial first-half then driven demented by the babysitting
requirements second-half. Won very little in their box, surprisingly,
But during extra-time was the only of our titans to make some telling
defensive headers.
AJER - 7.5/10
Well, rampaging right-back rocked back on his heels after the break,
given pause for thought by a Hearts side having a go.
This season some have failed to stand up and be counted - NOT this
big lump. Did you hear his interview after it all? - he WANTED
that penalty at that precise time.
No hiding. Big lad, big heart, big baws (ladies...).
And you'll read about how Ajer 'slammed' in the penalty winner, or
'crashed ' or 'thumped' it.
No, let me elucidate, illustrate by creative use of the English
language to absolutely provide the correct adjective - big Kris
FUCKED that in.
ALAN LADD - 4/10
Aw, God... So much promise from a first 45 of competence and
reliability. Even managed a stunning sliding block 2nd half,
but amid... Well, an impromptu recreation of Miller and Hansen's
'82 World Cup debacle. And Pirlo-ing the ball into the stands.
And worryingly left on the ball too much, but I've no sympathy
for the criminal weakness of that Celtic backline at set-pieces.
He's principally in there to be a ball-winning stallion, not a
donkey.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 5.5/10
Goddamn, bhoy, can you sling in an early cross or not? I'd
applaud him more for trying and failing often than the incessant,
momentum-killing checkbacks. Ball-retention is not all, especially
when we play with a lone striker who is making runs and burning
pace to get on the end of... Nothing balls. Be more adventurous.
BROON - 9/10 MOTM
Well, let's hear it. Let's hear the soccer fans try and work out how
you win a football match. By 'moving the ball quick'. By pace and
guile. Yes. But what happens when the craftsmen evaporate and
the going gets tough and you can't rely on Billy Ocean?
What happens when the 300 are a pile of spears and you're Leonidis
stood there alone against the preening, rampant Pseudo Huns with
the smell of fenian blood in their hairy nostrils...
So tonight, doubters, fall onto your knees and thank the Celtic
Ghods there's Broon. Captain. Leader. LEGEND.
His swagger in the first half exploded orange heids everywhere.
I want the audio of him winding up degenerate Hun Halliday the
commentator alluded to and a compilation of his tussles with
nasal-sex freak (obviosusly, that voice...) Stampy Naismith.
Broony, whose 'legs are gone'... Gone enough to pop up in the
115th minute on a gruelling farmyard of a pitch and almost score,
yet set up Griff. Who only retired from the battle due to a groin
injury and had to watch agonised as the pussies left on the
park surrendered a precious lead again.
And then he got his moment. A 12th successive trophy lifted
above his diamond-hard heid. And has there been one more
personally deserved?
CALMAC - 5/10
What a disappointment. The metronome turned to gnome and
we lost control of a game we might have been 5-0 up in had we
maintained the rhythm. And that is Calmac's forte and responsibility.
This type of game, against inferior opposition anxiously herding
into their own box in fear of a hiding, was made for him. That he
let the throttle loosen and the match slide from his control is
head-scratching and metaphorical of the season to date.
CHRISTIE - 4/10
Wonder goals are all very well - and worth 4 points on their own.
But utter shitebaggery in a historical cup final the face of a turning
tide and resurgent opponents just isn't on.
'Course anyone can disagree but what I saw today from Ryan
was a guy loading up his Youtube highlight reel then protecting
himself in anticipation of a desired move...
He won his place in this side through hard work, particularly
toughening up, and seizing his opportunity 3 years ago. Today, after
the spectacular and skillful was edged out by the need for graft and
combat, he quit it in the most reprehensible of ways. Ultimatey gifted
the free for their late third. His penalty exemplified the fugue he'd
fallen into.
This is Celtic, Ryan. Committment is everything. Maybe it's too late in
your case.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 6/10
Keen to get at Hearts after a near 100 year hiatus, his first-half mobility
and guile had the Famous Five haunting Gorgie. Then, as the mystery of
transformation took hold, he took a sore one and hobbled off to his
wheelchair and respirator leaving us bereft in the middle.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 4/10
Come on. Too much money and material is wasted on his Celtic jersey.
Drifting in and out of games at his whim is his given shtick - a luxury
and sometimes easy on the eye but I'm not buying it; leaves Eddy
stranded and burning energy, shows inconsistently for out-balls and
on breaks.
He can produce moments of class but his cost is a man down when
waiting for him to decide to link in. We need a consistent presence,
not a guy who'll turn it on when it suits him.
FRENCH EDDY - 7/10
Dink! Le cless. But what a wall of toothless ugliness he was up against,
flying Han Solo. Today he DID battle admirably whilst buffeted from
loping ghoul to lumbering gargoyle, often facing a forest of maroon
as he dropped, took and turned. All in all, until his legs cramped beyond
reviving, he was pretty formidab'le'.
SUBS:
GRIFF - 8/10
Impact, baby, impact. As Griff says in the clubs. And what a sniffer's goal it
was. Gerd muller would have whistled in admiration of his reaction and turn.
Only, he was denied that glory by the incompetence behind him. Still, just
dream of a Griff and Eddy strike partnership given time and service...
MAN OF - N/A
Last 15 in place of Broon to shore up. Nope, scrub that.
ROGIC - 6/10
A wandering bush tucker man gliding around the rotten Hampden surface was
the stuff of cup final match-winning. 3 years ago. Today there was a paucity of
time on the ball for him as we toiled.
Yet he had fenian couches lonely everywhere as he produced a passage of
bedazzling magic in the rain that maybe should have killed the game
off. But, pointedly, we only had Griff in their box to support and who made
the wrong move too early. About the season in a nutshell.
PINGPONG - 4/10
Looked short in confidence, popped around but cut inside too often,
didn't dare enough to take them on and test them against his pace.
MIKEY J - 7/10
For that cool, cynical penalty, after flaffing around the pitch a while,
sand-dancing in the wrong areas.
DREXL - N/A
Keen to get on, ran about with usual keenness for a little while. Keen
to see him start next week.
LENNONY - 7/10
Ooh, you got lucky, Lennony. But... Let's hope the gallows are dismantled
outside Paradise by the time the team bus returns.
Yet the team he picked had the job done by half-time, didn't they? Is it the manager's
fault the majority of well-paid pros disappear like a Hun at a charity drive as soon
as adversity strikes?
Many of self-righteous piety will tell you the blame lies at the feet of 'Lennon',
accented with a snarl. But these are the same people incapable of separating ego
from opinion; they won't change one because the other demands too much fluffing;
Like porn stars set to complete a scene, there's no backing down for some.
I love the irony that the man they dared him not to pick - the 'old guard' - was the
Last Tim Standing who would not fold, who took the honours of the day.
Lennony won, as we all expected, as many, many demanded; that's some kind of
pressure to live with, as you might have seen while he stood alone in the aftermath,
gazing skyward, taking it all in.
Well done, Lennony, you delivered the quadruple treble against the odds, and in
spite of populist opinion your memory will live long with the mantle of Celtic Legend.
OVERALL - 12/12
What do you say to sum that up? 'Fuck'? Probably the word you used most all day.
For me it was 'Goodness'; 'Goodness to fuck!' 'For fucking goodness sake!'. That
sort of thing...
You win a cup tie in the first twenty minutes, goes the age-old aphorism.
So we did.
And then they won it back.
What the goodness fuck? See, there it is again.
Ultimately, it was the glorious last-kick victory we all might have loved had
the script been written prior and we'd been allowed a read: A great Celtic
collapse with EVERY Diet, closet, and Full-Orc Hun across the dark expanse of
Zombieland looking in with unhealthy glee. Tims pegged back twice, once
from the dead (ironically...) and then they miss the crucial 3rd pen in
the shootout...
I expect most of them almost missed the shootout turnabout in a mist of jizz,
only to be sickened to the pit of their black souls as big Kristiano FUCKED in
the winner.
Ah, glory days, but how on earth do we rationalise that one...
Goodness to fuck knows.
Sandman. Guinness Away Now.
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