Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ SYNTHETIC ATHLETIC
"Out of Europe and out of a title race. It's the Huns' Quintissetially
British weekend. I expect Farage now to be favourite for the manager's
post when they hound out the Slippy One."
David Sassoli, President of the European Parliament.
"If that was Alfredo Morelos, that's a red card..."
Alastair McCoist, MBE, on the JFK assassination.
"If that was Alfredo Morelos, that's a red card..."
Alastair McCoist, MBE, on the annexation of Poland by the
National Socilaist German Worker's Party.
"If that was Alfredo Morelos, that's a red card..."
Alastair McCoist MBE, on the destruction of the Twin Towers
by Al-Qaeda/CIA.
"If that was Alfredo Morelos, that's a red card..."
Alastair McCoist MBE, on the death of Epstein, who didn't
kill himself...
THE WALL - 7/10
Made of stronger stuff than the Lego around him, stood tall to
foil them with a great point-blank block. Another pitch with no
forgiveness for poor kicking, he made sure with everything.
WELSH - 7.5/10
Is he? Leeks poking out his ears, right enough, but that was
just how green the kid is. Thank Max Boyce he was the only
defender tuned in form the start. His role became more crucial
as he made vital interceptions and displayed focussed composure
throughout. Well done, kid, thanks for a performance above
passenger-level that helped make a difference.
AJER - 6/10
Wakey, wakey, son of Ragnar. Comic nonsense early on as he slept
on a bouncing ball and The Wall saved his skin. Once he realised
he was in a game he settled as much as the rest- i.e the
discomfort was obvious. He toiled, like our majority.
JULLIEN CLARY - 6.5/10
Mon dieu, l'erse was rolled and bowled off him by their
cage-fighting centre-forward; out-muscled, out-jumped for
their goal. He knew it, did big JC, a harsh awakener for him,
yet superbly countered by his beautiful finish to give us an
orgasmic lead with ten to go. Struggled, but class tells.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 6.5/10
Frustration, like ordering his sausage rolls at 12 noon ( Sunday
breakfast time for non-fitness obsessives, washed down with five
pints...) only to be told you need to wait ten minutes for a fresh
batch which may put kick-off in jeopardy.
So at least he got to suffer like some of us as he went in pursuit
of a telling cross but was denied time and again by dogged defensive
work.
BROON - 7/10
Superbowl's tonight and Broony lived out his linebaker fantasy
with a very admirable block on the unpronouncable hulking striker
Hamilton loaned from some Marvel-franchise, taking the ripped
steroid-junkie right out of it at the cost of a sore heid.
Total combat-ready, Broon's was again a pivotal role in the middle
as things got tough at the bottom and we fell back on his robust
mentality to get the side through.
CALMAC - 6/10
Damn Hamilton - never a good hunting ground of Calmac, couldn't
get the metronome working on the bobbly synthetic Grinch wig.
Pass after pass and clever dink fell short or was cut out. He's
always worth having in there for his deft touch, forward among
their low block but you knew the magic wasn't in his boots
today.
SAM JACKSON - 5.5/10
Muthufucka does the biz midweek and Muthufuckas expect more
Muthufuckery on a lazy Sunday? Midweek was LAST month, Muthufuckas!
Today was patchy as the muthufuckin' plactic pitch, never stitched
together a burst of form to damage those Muthufuckas any; no
Muthufuckas around him on the same wavelength as Wednesday for
any kind of daym fine devilment; off with a rueful shake of
that big muthufuckin' head.
FORREST - 6.5/10
'How long to go? Fifteen.. Ah, fuck it..." And Jamesy decided there
was a game to win, so he stepped in to torment them for the final
quarter-hour. He took maybe unwarranted critique for much of the
game as they denied him space and double-teamed his flank. Then came
fatigue, space and Jamesy to fill it, and them, in.
GRIFF - 6/10
'If that was Alfredo Morelos, it was a red card... whaaaa, bahaaaa..."
Thank you Stampy, sorry, Sparky, for giving us the Fat Sally the Gardner
petted-lip, greetin' meme of all-time as his Hun waters broke watching
replays of Griff's 'stamp'.
Borderline red? Nah, quick feet shuffle as the boy on the ground tried to
grab his right-boot, failed, got the left one in the moobs for his trouble.
Aside, Griff again was the focus of drama as he drew the sending-off then
missed a golden chance. We held our breath as he remained on the park,
tempting the MIB to throw a red his way but mercifully he got lost late
on and stayed out the limelight as others won the day for us.
FRENCH EDDY - 8.5/10 MOTM
Sublime. A class above his surroundings and the proceedings as they tried
to turn it into a scrap. Glorious free-kick, silken movement for his second,
pure unmitigated threat every time he was involved.
UTTER PISH sitter missed for his hat-trick. A hat-trick some needy faithful
had put a tenner on. Point off, sell him.
SUBS:
HAYES - 7/10
Johny the time-hopping warrior; a questionable sub as he took his place,
helped turn the game minutes later after vaulting the hoardings to attack
a cop like it was a German trench on the Somme. Well, to retrieve the ball
quickly and mount the telling attack for 2-1, but a Hun's a Hun...
Instrumental, always reliable, honourable Hunskelping hero did his bit yet
again when we needed it most.
CHRISTIE - 5.5/10
Thought Ryan would impact more when he appeared but looked like he was
still feeling his way back from injury as he stayed out the mix. But his
cross for the big French fancy was telling and vital. Get fit.
ROGIC - 6.5/10
You liquid amber-nectar swilling altruist, you... Oz the wizard and those
feet of guile - delicious slipped pass to set up Eddy to kill it stone
dead. Please involve him more, Lennony - there are few NINE-in-a-row points
in those big surfboard boots.
LENNONY - 7/10
Klimala. KLIMALA! Fucking KLIMALA, for fuck's-fucking sake! Was the cry;
Was the desperation. Then it all came together, just as Lennony was
beginning to resemble the support - a perplexed figure hunched in his
puffer-jaicket wondering just how in the name of fuckity-fuck we'd blown
this golden opportunity.
And lo and behold upon this Fenian Sunday lunchtime, the Bhoys finally
excell in what they're good at - playing football at a level that
eliminates the rewards of honest endeavour, and delivers the ultimate
rewards.
It is a testament to the philosophy he's brought to the club that you
never say never and play until the death. Like Lennony the player.
On came JH, on came RC, on came TR, bang, bang, bang, 4-1.
Regardless of your opinions on this particular game-management, we WON;
All that anybody ever wanted at 5pm yesterday. Now he, and we, move on
to Wednesday's stepping stone to history. Closer and closer.
OVERALL - 7.5/10
Can you feel it? A disturbance in the Force. The Tims are on the road
again. Lego just released their first ever football stadium build - Old
Trafford, which costs 250 bucks and is still worth more than New Douglas
Park, including a better playing surface.
Today we trod the hallowed plastic of South Lanarkshire leg-ned. A place
we never perform, a place where something bizarre and calamatous can
often befall us. And true to folklore we were pish. To a point.
You got to credit the Hoops, as the support looked for a basic 1-0
victory - anything worth three points, really - the side put us through
a soul-searching 90 minutes that verged on epic as we had to recover from
a defecit to eventually put ten valiant, zero-hours contract battlers to
the sword.
They exemplified the low-level side fighting for survival with a glimmer
of glory in their mind's eye. You can criticise the Celtic players for
their high-wage expectations but Hamilton showed why football boils down
to 11 v11 and may the side who wants it most still have a dug's chance
in an imbalanced fight. If they reproduce that against the Huns in the
cup we'll be requiring rubber kecks next weekend...
But our Bhoys, though off-colour and toiling on the cursed surface, did
do what you, me, and countless critics never did - or could, or we'd be
wearing the Hoops - they had faith in their class to tell in the end.
And, jings, it did. That, for this bullshitter, is the glaring difference
between this season's Lennony side and last term's Snake Squad - we
possess an edge that defies sides to hold us; these bhoys know they can
do it and challenge themselves to do so; hence the festive abberation
seems such a Black Sun event.
They dug it out. They refused to accept platitudes or use the manager
as a buffer; they're becoming men who can shake off adversity and see out
a title. They just need to keep it going for a couple of months...
On the transfer window - no surprises; thought Han Soro would negate a
need for Wanyama, and Klimala Klimax (© anonymous deviant, retro porn
lover) meant new verve up front. One sobering thought - Newcastle United
spent 80 million bucks last summer on three strikers - who have to date
delivered 4 (FOUR) goals between them. Careful what you wish for. We move
on, with an eye on Pistol Pete's bonus fund... (probably in Bitcoin...)
Sandman. Floating on a dreamtide of Hun tears.
"Out of Europe and out of a title race. It's the Huns' Quintissetially
British weekend. I expect Farage now to be favourite for the manager's
post when they hound out the Slippy One."
David Sassoli, President of the European Parliament.
"If that was Alfredo Morelos, that's a red card..."
Alastair McCoist, MBE, on the JFK assassination.
"If that was Alfredo Morelos, that's a red card..."
Alastair McCoist, MBE, on the annexation of Poland by the
National Socilaist German Worker's Party.
"If that was Alfredo Morelos, that's a red card..."
Alastair McCoist MBE, on the destruction of the Twin Towers
by Al-Qaeda/CIA.
"If that was Alfredo Morelos, that's a red card..."
Alastair McCoist MBE, on the death of Epstein, who didn't
kill himself...
THE WALL - 7/10
Made of stronger stuff than the Lego around him, stood tall to
foil them with a great point-blank block. Another pitch with no
forgiveness for poor kicking, he made sure with everything.
WELSH - 7.5/10
Is he? Leeks poking out his ears, right enough, but that was
just how green the kid is. Thank Max Boyce he was the only
defender tuned in form the start. His role became more crucial
as he made vital interceptions and displayed focussed composure
throughout. Well done, kid, thanks for a performance above
passenger-level that helped make a difference.
AJER - 6/10
Wakey, wakey, son of Ragnar. Comic nonsense early on as he slept
on a bouncing ball and The Wall saved his skin. Once he realised
he was in a game he settled as much as the rest- i.e the
discomfort was obvious. He toiled, like our majority.
JULLIEN CLARY - 6.5/10
Mon dieu, l'erse was rolled and bowled off him by their
cage-fighting centre-forward; out-muscled, out-jumped for
their goal. He knew it, did big JC, a harsh awakener for him,
yet superbly countered by his beautiful finish to give us an
orgasmic lead with ten to go. Struggled, but class tells.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 6.5/10
Frustration, like ordering his sausage rolls at 12 noon ( Sunday
breakfast time for non-fitness obsessives, washed down with five
pints...) only to be told you need to wait ten minutes for a fresh
batch which may put kick-off in jeopardy.
So at least he got to suffer like some of us as he went in pursuit
of a telling cross but was denied time and again by dogged defensive
work.
BROON - 7/10
Superbowl's tonight and Broony lived out his linebaker fantasy
with a very admirable block on the unpronouncable hulking striker
Hamilton loaned from some Marvel-franchise, taking the ripped
steroid-junkie right out of it at the cost of a sore heid.
Total combat-ready, Broon's was again a pivotal role in the middle
as things got tough at the bottom and we fell back on his robust
mentality to get the side through.
CALMAC - 6/10
Damn Hamilton - never a good hunting ground of Calmac, couldn't
get the metronome working on the bobbly synthetic Grinch wig.
Pass after pass and clever dink fell short or was cut out. He's
always worth having in there for his deft touch, forward among
their low block but you knew the magic wasn't in his boots
today.
SAM JACKSON - 5.5/10
Muthufucka does the biz midweek and Muthufuckas expect more
Muthufuckery on a lazy Sunday? Midweek was LAST month, Muthufuckas!
Today was patchy as the muthufuckin' plactic pitch, never stitched
together a burst of form to damage those Muthufuckas any; no
Muthufuckas around him on the same wavelength as Wednesday for
any kind of daym fine devilment; off with a rueful shake of
that big muthufuckin' head.
FORREST - 6.5/10
'How long to go? Fifteen.. Ah, fuck it..." And Jamesy decided there
was a game to win, so he stepped in to torment them for the final
quarter-hour. He took maybe unwarranted critique for much of the
game as they denied him space and double-teamed his flank. Then came
fatigue, space and Jamesy to fill it, and them, in.
GRIFF - 6/10
'If that was Alfredo Morelos, it was a red card... whaaaa, bahaaaa..."
Thank you Stampy, sorry, Sparky, for giving us the Fat Sally the Gardner
petted-lip, greetin' meme of all-time as his Hun waters broke watching
replays of Griff's 'stamp'.
Borderline red? Nah, quick feet shuffle as the boy on the ground tried to
grab his right-boot, failed, got the left one in the moobs for his trouble.
Aside, Griff again was the focus of drama as he drew the sending-off then
missed a golden chance. We held our breath as he remained on the park,
tempting the MIB to throw a red his way but mercifully he got lost late
on and stayed out the limelight as others won the day for us.
FRENCH EDDY - 8.5/10 MOTM
Sublime. A class above his surroundings and the proceedings as they tried
to turn it into a scrap. Glorious free-kick, silken movement for his second,
pure unmitigated threat every time he was involved.
UTTER PISH sitter missed for his hat-trick. A hat-trick some needy faithful
had put a tenner on. Point off, sell him.
SUBS:
HAYES - 7/10
Johny the time-hopping warrior; a questionable sub as he took his place,
helped turn the game minutes later after vaulting the hoardings to attack
a cop like it was a German trench on the Somme. Well, to retrieve the ball
quickly and mount the telling attack for 2-1, but a Hun's a Hun...
Instrumental, always reliable, honourable Hunskelping hero did his bit yet
again when we needed it most.
CHRISTIE - 5.5/10
Thought Ryan would impact more when he appeared but looked like he was
still feeling his way back from injury as he stayed out the mix. But his
cross for the big French fancy was telling and vital. Get fit.
ROGIC - 6.5/10
You liquid amber-nectar swilling altruist, you... Oz the wizard and those
feet of guile - delicious slipped pass to set up Eddy to kill it stone
dead. Please involve him more, Lennony - there are few NINE-in-a-row points
in those big surfboard boots.
LENNONY - 7/10
Klimala. KLIMALA! Fucking KLIMALA, for fuck's-fucking sake! Was the cry;
Was the desperation. Then it all came together, just as Lennony was
beginning to resemble the support - a perplexed figure hunched in his
puffer-jaicket wondering just how in the name of fuckity-fuck we'd blown
this golden opportunity.
And lo and behold upon this Fenian Sunday lunchtime, the Bhoys finally
excell in what they're good at - playing football at a level that
eliminates the rewards of honest endeavour, and delivers the ultimate
rewards.
It is a testament to the philosophy he's brought to the club that you
never say never and play until the death. Like Lennony the player.
On came JH, on came RC, on came TR, bang, bang, bang, 4-1.
Regardless of your opinions on this particular game-management, we WON;
All that anybody ever wanted at 5pm yesterday. Now he, and we, move on
to Wednesday's stepping stone to history. Closer and closer.
OVERALL - 7.5/10
Can you feel it? A disturbance in the Force. The Tims are on the road
again. Lego just released their first ever football stadium build - Old
Trafford, which costs 250 bucks and is still worth more than New Douglas
Park, including a better playing surface.
Today we trod the hallowed plastic of South Lanarkshire leg-ned. A place
we never perform, a place where something bizarre and calamatous can
often befall us. And true to folklore we were pish. To a point.
You got to credit the Hoops, as the support looked for a basic 1-0
victory - anything worth three points, really - the side put us through
a soul-searching 90 minutes that verged on epic as we had to recover from
a defecit to eventually put ten valiant, zero-hours contract battlers to
the sword.
They exemplified the low-level side fighting for survival with a glimmer
of glory in their mind's eye. You can criticise the Celtic players for
their high-wage expectations but Hamilton showed why football boils down
to 11 v11 and may the side who wants it most still have a dug's chance
in an imbalanced fight. If they reproduce that against the Huns in the
cup we'll be requiring rubber kecks next weekend...
But our Bhoys, though off-colour and toiling on the cursed surface, did
do what you, me, and countless critics never did - or could, or we'd be
wearing the Hoops - they had faith in their class to tell in the end.
And, jings, it did. That, for this bullshitter, is the glaring difference
between this season's Lennony side and last term's Snake Squad - we
possess an edge that defies sides to hold us; these bhoys know they can
do it and challenge themselves to do so; hence the festive abberation
seems such a Black Sun event.
They dug it out. They refused to accept platitudes or use the manager
as a buffer; they're becoming men who can shake off adversity and see out
a title. They just need to keep it going for a couple of months...
On the transfer window - no surprises; thought Han Soro would negate a
need for Wanyama, and Klimala Klimax (© anonymous deviant, retro porn
lover) meant new verve up front. One sobering thought - Newcastle United
spent 80 million bucks last summer on three strikers - who have to date
delivered 4 (FOUR) goals between them. Careful what you wish for. We move
on, with an eye on Pistol Pete's bonus fund... (probably in Bitcoin...)
Sandman. Floating on a dreamtide of Hun tears.
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