Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v CLINT EASTWOOD'S ORANGUTAN
SCENE: INTERIOR, CELTIC CHANGING ROOM, PRE-MATCH TEAM-TALK -
Lennony: "Right boys, final word, let's not get complacent.
Go out there, full committment, let's make sure
you're in the Quarter-Final draw, no matter what..."
Broon: "You mean, Boss, beat them... Any Which Way We Can?"
(sniggers...)
Lennoy: "Eh? Aye, and Kris - nothin' stupid, tight at the back..."
Ajer: "Yup, right Boss... Any Which Way But Loose."
(multiple sniggers frisson around the room)
Lennony: "Um...Yeh...Am I missin' somethin' here?"
(bemused)
Griff: "Naw, Boss, just wonderin' how we get out ontae
the Eastwood pitch..."
(chuckles pepper the air)
Lennony: "It's 'Broadwood', Griff, an' it's just out the door,
(Directing hook round, ye'll see them out there already..."
with his
right arm)
Griff: "Aye, so it's... Right turn, Clyde?"
(raucous mirth abounds)
Lennony: "Aye...Eh? Whit the f..."
(perplexed)
CUT.
BANE - 6/10
On day release from Arkham Asylum just to remind us all we have a
supervillain in back-up. In truth he had one testing moment early
when a brutally swerving wind-blown corner threatened classic
goalkeeping calamity, but he handled it impeccably. Which worryingly
left 89 minutes for him to fill time devising new murderous schemes
to regain number one spot. The Bat-signal is readied.
BAUER - 7.5/10
Hair + Storm = Foppish nightmare. Not to this roving right-back.
Today for him was all about application:
1) application of the correct control formula and hair gel pre-match.
2) Application on-field as he was foremost in driving us forward and
getting into dangerous areas both with movement and his passing/deliveries.
He was one of those dubious picks you may have thought would hide in such
weather but was a stand-out, making the locals swoon as he re-defined the
term 'windswept'.
JULLIEN CLARY - 7/10
Appalled by his surroundings. "Et what ees theese theeng before me?
Theees 'Bad Boaby'? I am told he ees a 'rap arteest'? Did I 'ear
right?"
Showed a clean pair of heels time and again to a dirty wee opponent
and was generally to be found with kerchief in hand flapping away the
stench of the locale. The antithesis of what he would regard footballing
conditions but he showed he's up for it. And so was Bad Boaby... Allegedly.
AJER - 7/10
Ancestors coursed the North Sea in worse just for a bit of pillaging
so 90 minutes up the Clyde in longboat a mild hurricane wasn't going
to faze Kris. He's too big to Bully Wee... I thank you.
He did the Lothbrok family name justice with a fine controlled
performance, based around minimizing mistakes, and was an iron
sword in their side when he strode forward.
JAMIE FOXX - 6.5/10
Oscars tonight, but no nomination, so it freed up Jamie to test the
glamour of Broadwood. His infdefatigability means we get 100%
effort and around 70% return but that's charted in the positive and
he will always be a dynamic threat going forward, providing good
support to attacks.
BROON - 8.5/10 MOTM
Predator! Like a mongoose in the box! Once a season... Flat-chested
Captain Marvel iced the Muthufucka's birthday cake with a goal that
echoed predatory 'greats' like... Boyd, McCoist... Scoring from what
is known in halls of academia as 'The Hun Distance'.
Yet as much as he was Predator he was also Arnie, getting his men
to the chopper, surging run in the first ten minutes to set the
tone, bailing out of the Clydeside rainforest typhoon with
a result and no casualties. Simply magnificent guidance through a
potential minefield from an experienced hero who'd fight the wind
if required.
SAM JACKSON - 8/10
'Happy Muthufuckin' birthday, Muthufucka, now get the muthufuck out
there and muthufuck those daym Muthufuckas' right up", was his birthday
message from a Hollywood legend read out by the stadium announcer,
who's now on a breach of the peace charge.
From a 50-50 header challenge in the first moments he looked in the
mood. And the Muthufucka got the muthufuckin' party started with a
crisp cut and strike out of the blue with his classy feet that evaded
the keeper with sheer muthufuckin' surprise.
Thereafter he was at the centre of much of our good play, covering
and switching play with muthufuckin' guile, pinging some muthufuckin'
element-defying passes around. Many happy returns, Muthufucka.
CORPUS CHRISTIE - 6.5/10
No hiding on a day like this even for the Son Of Man. Stupid pitch,
antagonising opposition, but Corpus applied himself. Touch was just
off, as was his timing but he was a presence that troubled them and
very unfortunate not to notch at least one.
FORREST - 7.5/10
Good show from Jamesy as he took the game to them first-half. Outrageous
bit of skill to pluck a high ball out of the sky on a day like this and
set up Klimax.
Lively and a handful - linked well with Bauer to cause plenty chaos.
Lasted over an hour until Lennony had sympathy and hooked him lest
the cold ruined any chance of surprising barstaff tonight.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 6.5/10
Drifted into the game well in the second-half as he got used
to the spartan conditions and his class began to show. Missed
an early sitter - by sitting on his arse - but eventually became
a source of torment for tired plumbers and posties.
KLIMALA KLIMAX - 6/10
The home support turned out in their numbers - around 300...
'This is Sparta' - to see first-hand the purveyor of their favourite
70s erotica, many bringing their betamax cassettes for signing.
But this unfortunately-monickered Polish porn producer -
again, a lurid suggestion sourced from the deptraved minds that
read my drivel - was granted the most unappetising of first starts
- lone striker against a packed defence on a pitch of recycled
bin bags.
His general play was useful - moving well among them, finding
space for the odd half-chance; setting up Broon with a flick;
then blowing his big moment when clean through - a result of
awareness and pace to get on the end of our best move of the
game.
Not judging the bhoy on that one - give him grass, weather for
the sane of mind, a strike partner and service, and stand well
back.
SUBS:
HAYES - 6.5/10
Jonny loves these conditions, reminding him of torrid
battles around Ypres in the winter of 14/15. Solid cameo,
energy and toughness to keep them penned in.
SON OF A GUN - 6.5/10
Third time lucky as his confidence took a savaging, steered
in the most difficult chance to break the hearts of all those
with Broony as last scorer. A roving, unproven project. We
will see.
SHED 7 - N/A
Minutes to show, and threw himself into it; a dribble a
stramash against Clyde to add to his Euro goal and that's
his Celtic carrer to date...
LENNONY - 7/10
Alarmed by namesake and former handy player, Danny Lennon,
who loomed towards him now looking like he'd been fired
through a time/space dimensional rift and snapped back as
the lovechild of Charlie Manson and Martin Scorsese.
Thankfully our Lennony got over that shocking vision of one
possible future and renounced methylated spirits immediately.
That allowed him to settle and enjoy his shadow-sides's
performance.
Well, not the shadow-side I was expecting - wee Karaoke Dembele,
for example, tragcally denied a berth by missing Lennony's message
to bring his boots due to his phone being choked up with texts
from the Finance Minister.
So, despite the little genius being occupied with evading
grooming, we got a revert to lone striker and unfortunate
second-choice faces; well, who'd be happy playing outside in
that wind? Dorothy and Toto?
The result never looked in the balance and Lennony will be
satisfied once more to be through and pain-free, racking up
game-time for some squad members who may need crucially
utilised in the months to come.
OVERALL - 7/10
So ye sit down quite excited to watch Celtic take on a tribe
from up the river and the crushing disappointment hits when
they turn out to be scabby-heided growling cloggers and not
the skimpy-leaf-bikini-clad buxom Amazonian wenches carrying
spears you had anticipated all night.
So with libidinous hopes shattered by misleading, misinterpreted
match billing and brutal Scottish reality, it was time to put on
yer best Clint sneer and see if the punks felt lucky. Well, did
ya, punks?
Nah. A relief to see a Celtic side lay the shambolic, humiliating
ghost of January '06 which I witnessed unfold in a Lanzarote bar
then staggered out utterly dazed into the harsh warmth of a holiday
sun turned mocking yellow bastard. Thanks for that one, Roy Keane,
Lennony and co...
Today, Lennony exacted expected revenge. The team turned up, got
down and dirty - no, Jamesy... - and got the job done with a solid
professional effort. No big thrills, but no horrorshows.
Respect. And on we go. Quadrofenian Rebel Treble right on track.
Sandman. To the next round. Mine's a Stella.
SCENE: INTERIOR, CELTIC CHANGING ROOM, PRE-MATCH TEAM-TALK -
Lennony: "Right boys, final word, let's not get complacent.
Go out there, full committment, let's make sure
you're in the Quarter-Final draw, no matter what..."
Broon: "You mean, Boss, beat them... Any Which Way We Can?"
(sniggers...)
Lennoy: "Eh? Aye, and Kris - nothin' stupid, tight at the back..."
Ajer: "Yup, right Boss... Any Which Way But Loose."
(multiple sniggers frisson around the room)
Lennony: "Um...Yeh...Am I missin' somethin' here?"
(bemused)
Griff: "Naw, Boss, just wonderin' how we get out ontae
the Eastwood pitch..."
(chuckles pepper the air)
Lennony: "It's 'Broadwood', Griff, an' it's just out the door,
(Directing hook round, ye'll see them out there already..."
with his
right arm)
Griff: "Aye, so it's... Right turn, Clyde?"
(raucous mirth abounds)
Lennony: "Aye...Eh? Whit the f..."
(perplexed)
CUT.
BANE - 6/10
On day release from Arkham Asylum just to remind us all we have a
supervillain in back-up. In truth he had one testing moment early
when a brutally swerving wind-blown corner threatened classic
goalkeeping calamity, but he handled it impeccably. Which worryingly
left 89 minutes for him to fill time devising new murderous schemes
to regain number one spot. The Bat-signal is readied.
BAUER - 7.5/10
Hair + Storm = Foppish nightmare. Not to this roving right-back.
Today for him was all about application:
1) application of the correct control formula and hair gel pre-match.
2) Application on-field as he was foremost in driving us forward and
getting into dangerous areas both with movement and his passing/deliveries.
He was one of those dubious picks you may have thought would hide in such
weather but was a stand-out, making the locals swoon as he re-defined the
term 'windswept'.
JULLIEN CLARY - 7/10
Appalled by his surroundings. "Et what ees theese theeng before me?
Theees 'Bad Boaby'? I am told he ees a 'rap arteest'? Did I 'ear
right?"
Showed a clean pair of heels time and again to a dirty wee opponent
and was generally to be found with kerchief in hand flapping away the
stench of the locale. The antithesis of what he would regard footballing
conditions but he showed he's up for it. And so was Bad Boaby... Allegedly.
AJER - 7/10
Ancestors coursed the North Sea in worse just for a bit of pillaging
so 90 minutes up the Clyde in longboat a mild hurricane wasn't going
to faze Kris. He's too big to Bully Wee... I thank you.
He did the Lothbrok family name justice with a fine controlled
performance, based around minimizing mistakes, and was an iron
sword in their side when he strode forward.
JAMIE FOXX - 6.5/10
Oscars tonight, but no nomination, so it freed up Jamie to test the
glamour of Broadwood. His infdefatigability means we get 100%
effort and around 70% return but that's charted in the positive and
he will always be a dynamic threat going forward, providing good
support to attacks.
BROON - 8.5/10 MOTM
Predator! Like a mongoose in the box! Once a season... Flat-chested
Captain Marvel iced the Muthufucka's birthday cake with a goal that
echoed predatory 'greats' like... Boyd, McCoist... Scoring from what
is known in halls of academia as 'The Hun Distance'.
Yet as much as he was Predator he was also Arnie, getting his men
to the chopper, surging run in the first ten minutes to set the
tone, bailing out of the Clydeside rainforest typhoon with
a result and no casualties. Simply magnificent guidance through a
potential minefield from an experienced hero who'd fight the wind
if required.
SAM JACKSON - 8/10
'Happy Muthufuckin' birthday, Muthufucka, now get the muthufuck out
there and muthufuck those daym Muthufuckas' right up", was his birthday
message from a Hollywood legend read out by the stadium announcer,
who's now on a breach of the peace charge.
From a 50-50 header challenge in the first moments he looked in the
mood. And the Muthufucka got the muthufuckin' party started with a
crisp cut and strike out of the blue with his classy feet that evaded
the keeper with sheer muthufuckin' surprise.
Thereafter he was at the centre of much of our good play, covering
and switching play with muthufuckin' guile, pinging some muthufuckin'
element-defying passes around. Many happy returns, Muthufucka.
CORPUS CHRISTIE - 6.5/10
No hiding on a day like this even for the Son Of Man. Stupid pitch,
antagonising opposition, but Corpus applied himself. Touch was just
off, as was his timing but he was a presence that troubled them and
very unfortunate not to notch at least one.
FORREST - 7.5/10
Good show from Jamesy as he took the game to them first-half. Outrageous
bit of skill to pluck a high ball out of the sky on a day like this and
set up Klimax.
Lively and a handful - linked well with Bauer to cause plenty chaos.
Lasted over an hour until Lennony had sympathy and hooked him lest
the cold ruined any chance of surprising barstaff tonight.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 6.5/10
Drifted into the game well in the second-half as he got used
to the spartan conditions and his class began to show. Missed
an early sitter - by sitting on his arse - but eventually became
a source of torment for tired plumbers and posties.
KLIMALA KLIMAX - 6/10
The home support turned out in their numbers - around 300...
'This is Sparta' - to see first-hand the purveyor of their favourite
70s erotica, many bringing their betamax cassettes for signing.
But this unfortunately-monickered Polish porn producer -
again, a lurid suggestion sourced from the deptraved minds that
read my drivel - was granted the most unappetising of first starts
- lone striker against a packed defence on a pitch of recycled
bin bags.
His general play was useful - moving well among them, finding
space for the odd half-chance; setting up Broon with a flick;
then blowing his big moment when clean through - a result of
awareness and pace to get on the end of our best move of the
game.
Not judging the bhoy on that one - give him grass, weather for
the sane of mind, a strike partner and service, and stand well
back.
SUBS:
HAYES - 6.5/10
Jonny loves these conditions, reminding him of torrid
battles around Ypres in the winter of 14/15. Solid cameo,
energy and toughness to keep them penned in.
SON OF A GUN - 6.5/10
Third time lucky as his confidence took a savaging, steered
in the most difficult chance to break the hearts of all those
with Broony as last scorer. A roving, unproven project. We
will see.
SHED 7 - N/A
Minutes to show, and threw himself into it; a dribble a
stramash against Clyde to add to his Euro goal and that's
his Celtic carrer to date...
LENNONY - 7/10
Alarmed by namesake and former handy player, Danny Lennon,
who loomed towards him now looking like he'd been fired
through a time/space dimensional rift and snapped back as
the lovechild of Charlie Manson and Martin Scorsese.
Thankfully our Lennony got over that shocking vision of one
possible future and renounced methylated spirits immediately.
That allowed him to settle and enjoy his shadow-sides's
performance.
Well, not the shadow-side I was expecting - wee Karaoke Dembele,
for example, tragcally denied a berth by missing Lennony's message
to bring his boots due to his phone being choked up with texts
from the Finance Minister.
So, despite the little genius being occupied with evading
grooming, we got a revert to lone striker and unfortunate
second-choice faces; well, who'd be happy playing outside in
that wind? Dorothy and Toto?
The result never looked in the balance and Lennony will be
satisfied once more to be through and pain-free, racking up
game-time for some squad members who may need crucially
utilised in the months to come.
OVERALL - 7/10
So ye sit down quite excited to watch Celtic take on a tribe
from up the river and the crushing disappointment hits when
they turn out to be scabby-heided growling cloggers and not
the skimpy-leaf-bikini-clad buxom Amazonian wenches carrying
spears you had anticipated all night.
So with libidinous hopes shattered by misleading, misinterpreted
match billing and brutal Scottish reality, it was time to put on
yer best Clint sneer and see if the punks felt lucky. Well, did
ya, punks?
Nah. A relief to see a Celtic side lay the shambolic, humiliating
ghost of January '06 which I witnessed unfold in a Lanzarote bar
then staggered out utterly dazed into the harsh warmth of a holiday
sun turned mocking yellow bastard. Thanks for that one, Roy Keane,
Lennony and co...
Today, Lennony exacted expected revenge. The team turned up, got
down and dirty - no, Jamesy... - and got the job done with a solid
professional effort. No big thrills, but no horrorshows.
Respect. And on we go. Quadrofenian Rebel Treble right on track.
Sandman. To the next round. Mine's a Stella.
HH
