SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v HITLERJUGEND

Sandman

Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v HITLERJUGEND


"We would like to debunk the scurrilous accusations directed agianst
a Scottish institution that are pure racialistisism and sectananarianisism
concocted by a rival fanbase to impune upon the dignity of a respected
and revered football club, that of the Glasgow Rangers (International),
NOT in administration (yet), a landmark of Scottish cultural, um, kultchur.

To insinuate that this proud, vewy pwoud, heritage of Ra Peepil, Ibrox Stadium,
Edmiston Drive, Glasgow, Fair Scotia, is in any way responsible, or 'Ground Zero',
for the lethal CORONAVIRUS is reprehensible behaviour and abhorrent factual and
scientific inaccuracy; Everybody knows it's the origin of AIDS."

A World Health Organisation spokesman, yesterday.





THE WALL - 7.5/10

Busier than he expected. A lot busier as they forced corners,
took a few pot-shots and tried to force us into retreat.
Like the rest of the defence, the onus fell on him to keep sharp
and avoid fuckaboutery.
Great save second-half, among others, to sicken them further
and snuff out all forlorn hope like the vet in the animal midwifery
department of Bogota zoo 24 years ago solemnly affirming, "No, it's
definitely yours, Mrs.Morelos."



AJER - 7/10

Strode around disgruntled as they harried and pressed like
dementors until their energies subsided. With a malfunctioning
midfield intermittently opening spaces like greyhound traps and
an ugly Gorgie mongrel frequently bursting through, he needed to
be on his defensive toes. Solid. And still just a boy. Our bhoy.



JULLIEN CLARY - 8/10

No suave shenanigans required or tolerated on a night to keep
brass monkeys indoors - there was enough to do for him to focus
on maintaining the integrity of the backline as they got gallus
and had the mistaken belief they could do us damage.
Rose like an NBA forward with some Jordan air-time to slam dunk
home our second with a bullet header; nearly had another - he's
yet another goal-threat but essentailly, finally, one we have from
corners. JUST LIKE...



JOZO - 7.5/10

Somehow Gollum regained his ability to display a card when
it was a Celtic defender at fault, and it was Jozo first to be
cursed by the imp's sorcery for a nothing challenge.
Carried the handicap all game... Thought 'fuck that' and slammed
in the fifth from - cue twilight Zone theme - a CORNER.
Big stalwart punisher back in the groove.



GREGGS THE BAKER - 7.5/10

Industrious without the final ball to compliment as he ranged
up the left, pressed more into a defensive role than he must have
anticipated. But as we took control, he played his part and delivered
- linking up for a couple of goals. A Steak Bake of a performance -
reliable, satisfying and filling; like the Huns at Rugby Park in
the winter.



BROON - 7/10

Unusually disinterested first-half, it seemed; like his mind
was more on Sunday, perhaps - led to slackness in the middle
until fixed during half time by having Ajer dressed as Thor,
smash his hammer into the atomic heart in the centre of
Broony's breastplate and reset our Ironman to 'mollocate'.
Hurdled a leg-breaker with his name on it late-on like he was
onstage with Flatley. Will be prancing around Pitstoddrie on
the sabbath with the scent of NINE in his nostrils.



CALMAC - 7/10

Sunday paper round kept him out the cup-tie. All the cycling's
given him some extra stamina - engine went into overdrive as we
ran over the top of them second-half, topped-off a lovely move
with another valuable goal.



SAM JACKSON - 8/10 MOTMfnM

Slap! Biatches smacked down with some muthufuckin' cultural education -
sweet muthufucka of a finish as the Muthufucka followed in on the keeper's
slack-wristed parry to steer home the first, cool as a muthufucka.

Did that get the muthufuckin' party started? DAYM, yeah! Well... Not until
the half-time boogie was over and the muthufuckin' style got turned on -
from an opening period of unnecessary khaftan jackets and Hendrix headbands,
muthufucka disco-downed from the off in day-glo flared suits and fedoras as
the second 45 spun and he danced them into a muthufuckin' corner.
Feet, guile, composure, vision - tonight truly his Muthufuckas' keeper and
the finder of lost Muthufuckas. S'right.



FORREST - 6.5/10

Jamesy has a history of savaging the Klanjuniors. When his youthful
performances were throwing doubt over his Celtic future, it was
blazing turns against them that gave us renewed hope in his quality.
So whenever the Cousins of Darkness creep into town, it's to Jamesy
I look to either lead the slaying or save the day.
Tonight he started like he meant business, exposing their full-back
(note; no 'to' between 'exposing' and 'full-back') with pace and
direct intent - could have scored, caused more distress than his
average night in a Prestwick bar disco.
Then faded, and flashed (I just had to...) back into things intermittently.



GRIFF - 6.5/10

Ah, Griff loves the Jam Tarts. He's shagged every one of their burds,
y'know and most of their youth team anxiously await the results of
paternity tests. His revenge will be assimilation - he's a fan of
The Borg in Star Trek. Within a generation every maroon jersey will
contain a player of suspicious hair weave with a fondness for the
Hibees.

Until then, until he brings about the mythical 'Thumbheid Apocalypse'
to the Gorgie ratbags he will continue to enjoy pumping them on the
park too. Like Murderwell last week, he spurned a great chance to kill
them off.
Did link well with Eddy, however and delivered a fine corner for our
second goal. No worries, he will continue the scoring off the park until
Sunday, noon, when it's the Sheeps' turn.



FRENCH EDDY - 6.5/10

Target man. Targeted man. That is, if you can lay a stud on him.
Some lovely footwork as he strived to free himself of the gay-limpet
tactics employed by Hearts 'prison-shower committe' defence.
An unusual evening for Eddy as none of the five are his, yet tonight
his combination with Griff was more impressive than ever.
Somebody's going to get it...



SUBS:


CORPUS CHRISTE - 6.66/10

Wham-bam, I'm the Son of Man - and he promptly appears to shrink their
foetid souls some more by skittling one in with his first touch.
Thereby providing a stunning examle of our multifarious goal-threat.



ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 5.5/10

Quiet twenty minutes after relieving Jamesy. Enough at the back.


ROGIC - 5.5/10

Came on with a big grin and news of an Ayrshire equaliser. Handed out
the tinnies just in time for the Killie winner. Job done, Cobber.



LENNONY - 7.5/10

Is this his chosen, settled side for the title surge? It's a solid formation
based on dynamic midfield dominance and a twin-spearhead strike-force that
aims to pin sides back from the first whistle and not allow time to settle.
Keeping flair at the fringes does stultify our excitement somewhat but it looks
to be the perfect set-up for games like these - nights when we've dropped points
in recent seasons; games that turn from expected symphonies to horrifying dirges;
opponents who gain unhealthy excitment from defying their betters and swinging a
sucker-punch.

Under the most pressure we've had in a decade, Lennony's plan is working.
Brendanistas are boaking. We're not panicking or wilting. We're getting ever
closer. HE is getting ever closer. Twenty-six down. Twelve to go. Maybe roughly
NINE wins from the NINE. Maybe less soon, eh Stevie?



OVERALL - 7.5/10

Intensity from them. Shite corners from us. Solid defending and good goalkeeping
as our midfield toiled a bit. We waited... We waited for the chink of light to
brighten, then it went full lens-flare.

As the Hoops found their mojo we overwhelmed them with attacking movement. It
was never a constant, fluid performance, but it was never totally disjointed; we
were magic in moments, careless in others, but never negligent. We scored TWO goals
from corners; Urban myth debunked.

Tonight and Sunday coming were and are probably pivotal points - always looked
towards Winterfell as the one to win and take the crown. Now we've maybe seen the
last of the Hitlerjugend for a couple of years - 'mon the relegation - we can thrill
to the prospect of killing-off their overlords' sick fantasties of supremacy with
around a dozen more champions' displays like tonight.

The mental strength of this Celtic squad is formidable, the goal-threat legion. Their
ability to get the job done when the chips are down and cut through the white-noise
hype infecting the airwaves from across the city is carrying them towards a historical
achievement that will have their names reverberate through generations of millions
of Celtic folk worldwide.

Don't stop Bhoys. One more time until the NINE.

Then we'll welcome them to OUR party.




Sandman. Schadenfreeeeeeuuude!
 
Last edited:

TTQtKK

Well-known member
'Great save second-half, among others, to sicken them further
and snuff out all forlorn hope like the vet in the animal midwifery
department of Bogota zoo 24 years ago solemnly affirming, "No, it's
definitely yours, Mrs.Morelos.'


That's as loud as I have laughed in a long time. Mer powur tae yur elbow Sandman.
 
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