Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC V OLD FIRM FC
"We want the fixtures changed. For...Reasons...
Scotland, 'n 'at, y'know? Aye, and we want Xmas
moved too - Tae summer, like in Ozzieland.
So's we can be more like Big Ange..."
ROXIE - 8/10 MOTM
Just magnificent. Everything you want from a keeper in such
circumstances - that double-save piece of goalkeeping verve
was deserving of a matchwinning accolade. Such a damn shame
it will be forgotten, swamped by the dross of his colleagues'
capitulation.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 5/10
Yeah, nearly took the Danny McGrain memorial trophy from 1980
as the solo-scoring Hunskelping left-back via deflection; and
it might have been the game-of-a-lifetime's memories for the
embattled defender had the final 15-minute collapse not
transpired.
However, overall, he was abject; worst game this calendar year,
ridden senseless by Tavpen all first half and only spared more
anguish by Daizen going wide-left to contain their threat after
the break.
STAR LORD - 6/10
Fuck's sake, just relax and stop fretting. No Hampden in
the sun for the Racoon to bask in as our slovenly display
culminated in torment; and though he waffled a few erratic
balls into the ether, he wasn't the worst of a bad lot.
GET CARTER - 5/10
Ah, big man - it was right there. The treble in yer boots.
And as he struck the bar my Spidey-sense tingled and the
joy of a scrappy triumph began to disintegrate towards
grim portent.
And he lost his way, his presence, finding the addition
of Aribo contesting high balls a nuisance and ultimately
a loss of his defensive dominance; letting them find the
space in the box to swat home the killer blows.
JURAN JURAN - 4/10
Oddly ineffective in a game we know he's made for. But
also a measure of the inept collective display - ended
in a nothing-burger early retiral.
CALMAC - 7/10
Ye're a fucking champion, Calmac. And, God-willing,
will be in a few weeks. Despite the utter depravity
of the opposition and the paucity of talent on display,
he continually strived to lift us above their grind,
to prompt his Hoops into life, and footballing
superiority.
That nobody paid heed, or reacted positively, is
something of concern to his captaincy, and something
he needs to sort out without empathy given how crucial
the next five fixtures are. i.e He needs to kick some
fucking arses with impunity.
HAKUNA HATATE - 5.5/10
Nah, the wee fella took some hits with his usual
excess of geniality - somebody tell him it's the
fucking Huns ffs. But he never got free to apply
himself of make the impact we've seen or now
expect. However, that comes with the caveat of
having to play with ankle ligament damage...
Because this is Scotland, and the Huns are fucked.
ROGIC - 6/10
Ach, Oz. Kicked out the game yet still able in
his moments to offer glimpses of the mercurial
talent we know slays the vermin. That he was
ultimately ineffectual and stifled says more
about our lack of verve and inventiveness than
his role in the side.
For fucking slow-readers - we never played him
in quick enough or often enough and when we did
- about twice - he caused havoc. Wasted.
NOTEBOOK - 4.5/10
A fine line today between the sand-dancing
Mikey Johnston gets crucified for, and the
expectations he's failed to live up to for
a good few games now.
Choices off, final balls utterly ineffective;
how many millions should we pony up given
that impotent showing? Hmm...
LORD KATSUMOTO - 7.5/10
Captain Quint leaned over wee Gio's tiny
school desk, breath heavy with whisky:
"I value my neck a lot more than three
thousand bucks, chief. I'll find him
for three, but I'll catch him, and
switch him off, for ten."
But the Huns are skint and the only man
capable got eaten by a shark and his boat,
the Orca, wrecked.
So we let Daizen loose on them and he
bustled and rattled their cages like a
Goodfellas hustler and still got no reward
for his beyond-Bladerunner human-cybrid
closing-down-machine perpetual effort.
If only others gave such guaranteed
committment.
ABADASS - 3/10
Look, the kid's been a Hunskelper
extraordinaire in his short tenure;
But today he was a ghost in the machine,
barely notching a touch let alone threat.
SUBS:
THE BUILDER - 6.5/10
Plaudits for coming on to enhance a stacatto
performance when you're used to a full-blown
symphony. But persevere he did, trying to pick
the Hun locks, coming close, but finding the
general malaise working against his intent.
TONY THE TIGER - 5/10
Everything felt more assured with Tony in
position, even if it wasn't. Bizarre. Then
he got turned over and they won. Fuck you,
universe.
JAMESY - N/A
Did he get a touch? A measure of our ineffectveness
was this arch-Hunskelper's lack of involvement.
MR.KOBAYASHI - N/A
Brilliant. Bring him on - the one Hoop the Huns
haven't had to face down the middle since he
became a Talisman - and give him fuck-all in
service. Man...
RAQUEL - N/A
No matter how pretty you are, some games you just
can't improve..
ANITA DOBSON - 6/10
Well, Ange, do something! We watched with him
as Angeball got stuck in the sclaff and waited
for him to make the big changes or apply the big
whip.
He hesitated as we took a tawdry lead, almost
killed it, then had us sit back and let the
Monkeys pick off a couple of depressing dark
moments.
It looked - to me, but I'm mad, remember -
that he didn't demand the same incessant vibe
from the Hoops as we're used to; Far too many
absentees from the Angeball programme. Far too
many grifting along, hoping for the collective
method to eclipse individual contribution.
What I'm saying is - don't let the slackers
slack, Ange; get them on-point for the big
finish. Today was a nadir in the ascending
chart of the season's bull run. Gather them,
and go again.
MIBBERY - 7/10
Ach, fuck off, beardy Bobby; When did he get
radicalized? Now trying for Guantanamo Bay
immunity, throwing the yellows around, letting
our ballers get kicked out the game.
Creamed his shortsin extra-time as all his
Huntasies came true. Shame the final you'll
be awarded will be just a diddy consolation
afternoon.
OVERALL - 4/10
I'll say what you're thinking - pish, man.
After all the thrilling volatility of the
Angeball season this was a stagnant affair
that bewildered logical perception; they're
so bad for 'Euro semifinalist titans' it
disputed the accepted construct of reality.
The fact we could not get Angeball imposed
upon them and make them suffer for their
tragic hubris was just as mystifying.
This was a RANK performance, dragged down
to the Hun level of discord, stumbling
through the day with all the fluency of
a brain-damaged Orange Walk drummer
attmepting to thrash out a Keith Moon
on acid rendition of My Generation
knowing the generation in question
are the fuckwit wee-lassie-terrorising
Onion Bears.
And yet...
Yet we had them, lumpen heids on the
chopping block, retching hordes ready to
tear wee Groinio limb from limb, and the
Big Man skelped the bar instead of the
Huns...
At 2-0 we were home and hosed, they were
cannibalised and thrashing like Tom Waits'
'Renfield' in the Seward Sanitarium asylum
in Dracula; "Master. Maaaasterrr.."
And we fucked it up... BUT, of all games
- if any - to lose and choke and generally
appear hapless - THIS was the one.
It's little comfort, I know, to find solace
in a karmaic trade-off after witnessing
such a lamentable surrender of advantage.
But we really did take a pig's ear of a game
and turn it into a silk purse, then cast it
back to the fermenting savages to glorify
as some sort of iconic triumph...
When we know full well it was an abstraction
of Celtic's own making; a ridiculous folly
of under-achievement, under-performance, and
complacency. We never got going, never imposed
or pressed, never found the defining class to
lift us above and beyond.
Yet, we still nearly won; SHOULD have won.
However, we did get what we deserved for a
malfunction in the matrix; A timely reminder
that it ain't over 'til it's over.
So get it back together, Celtic, and get after
the BIG prize.
Go Away Now.
Sandman.
"We want the fixtures changed. For...Reasons...
Scotland, 'n 'at, y'know? Aye, and we want Xmas
moved too - Tae summer, like in Ozzieland.
So's we can be more like Big Ange..."
ROXIE - 8/10 MOTM
Just magnificent. Everything you want from a keeper in such
circumstances - that double-save piece of goalkeeping verve
was deserving of a matchwinning accolade. Such a damn shame
it will be forgotten, swamped by the dross of his colleagues'
capitulation.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 5/10
Yeah, nearly took the Danny McGrain memorial trophy from 1980
as the solo-scoring Hunskelping left-back via deflection; and
it might have been the game-of-a-lifetime's memories for the
embattled defender had the final 15-minute collapse not
transpired.
However, overall, he was abject; worst game this calendar year,
ridden senseless by Tavpen all first half and only spared more
anguish by Daizen going wide-left to contain their threat after
the break.
STAR LORD - 6/10
Fuck's sake, just relax and stop fretting. No Hampden in
the sun for the Racoon to bask in as our slovenly display
culminated in torment; and though he waffled a few erratic
balls into the ether, he wasn't the worst of a bad lot.
GET CARTER - 5/10
Ah, big man - it was right there. The treble in yer boots.
And as he struck the bar my Spidey-sense tingled and the
joy of a scrappy triumph began to disintegrate towards
grim portent.
And he lost his way, his presence, finding the addition
of Aribo contesting high balls a nuisance and ultimately
a loss of his defensive dominance; letting them find the
space in the box to swat home the killer blows.
JURAN JURAN - 4/10
Oddly ineffective in a game we know he's made for. But
also a measure of the inept collective display - ended
in a nothing-burger early retiral.
CALMAC - 7/10
Ye're a fucking champion, Calmac. And, God-willing,
will be in a few weeks. Despite the utter depravity
of the opposition and the paucity of talent on display,
he continually strived to lift us above their grind,
to prompt his Hoops into life, and footballing
superiority.
That nobody paid heed, or reacted positively, is
something of concern to his captaincy, and something
he needs to sort out without empathy given how crucial
the next five fixtures are. i.e He needs to kick some
fucking arses with impunity.
HAKUNA HATATE - 5.5/10
Nah, the wee fella took some hits with his usual
excess of geniality - somebody tell him it's the
fucking Huns ffs. But he never got free to apply
himself of make the impact we've seen or now
expect. However, that comes with the caveat of
having to play with ankle ligament damage...
Because this is Scotland, and the Huns are fucked.
ROGIC - 6/10
Ach, Oz. Kicked out the game yet still able in
his moments to offer glimpses of the mercurial
talent we know slays the vermin. That he was
ultimately ineffectual and stifled says more
about our lack of verve and inventiveness than
his role in the side.
For fucking slow-readers - we never played him
in quick enough or often enough and when we did
- about twice - he caused havoc. Wasted.
NOTEBOOK - 4.5/10
A fine line today between the sand-dancing
Mikey Johnston gets crucified for, and the
expectations he's failed to live up to for
a good few games now.
Choices off, final balls utterly ineffective;
how many millions should we pony up given
that impotent showing? Hmm...
LORD KATSUMOTO - 7.5/10
Captain Quint leaned over wee Gio's tiny
school desk, breath heavy with whisky:
"I value my neck a lot more than three
thousand bucks, chief. I'll find him
for three, but I'll catch him, and
switch him off, for ten."
But the Huns are skint and the only man
capable got eaten by a shark and his boat,
the Orca, wrecked.
So we let Daizen loose on them and he
bustled and rattled their cages like a
Goodfellas hustler and still got no reward
for his beyond-Bladerunner human-cybrid
closing-down-machine perpetual effort.
If only others gave such guaranteed
committment.
ABADASS - 3/10
Look, the kid's been a Hunskelper
extraordinaire in his short tenure;
But today he was a ghost in the machine,
barely notching a touch let alone threat.
SUBS:
THE BUILDER - 6.5/10
Plaudits for coming on to enhance a stacatto
performance when you're used to a full-blown
symphony. But persevere he did, trying to pick
the Hun locks, coming close, but finding the
general malaise working against his intent.
TONY THE TIGER - 5/10
Everything felt more assured with Tony in
position, even if it wasn't. Bizarre. Then
he got turned over and they won. Fuck you,
universe.
JAMESY - N/A
Did he get a touch? A measure of our ineffectveness
was this arch-Hunskelper's lack of involvement.
MR.KOBAYASHI - N/A
Brilliant. Bring him on - the one Hoop the Huns
haven't had to face down the middle since he
became a Talisman - and give him fuck-all in
service. Man...
RAQUEL - N/A
No matter how pretty you are, some games you just
can't improve..
ANITA DOBSON - 6/10
Well, Ange, do something! We watched with him
as Angeball got stuck in the sclaff and waited
for him to make the big changes or apply the big
whip.
He hesitated as we took a tawdry lead, almost
killed it, then had us sit back and let the
Monkeys pick off a couple of depressing dark
moments.
It looked - to me, but I'm mad, remember -
that he didn't demand the same incessant vibe
from the Hoops as we're used to; Far too many
absentees from the Angeball programme. Far too
many grifting along, hoping for the collective
method to eclipse individual contribution.
What I'm saying is - don't let the slackers
slack, Ange; get them on-point for the big
finish. Today was a nadir in the ascending
chart of the season's bull run. Gather them,
and go again.
MIBBERY - 7/10
Ach, fuck off, beardy Bobby; When did he get
radicalized? Now trying for Guantanamo Bay
immunity, throwing the yellows around, letting
our ballers get kicked out the game.
Creamed his shortsin extra-time as all his
Huntasies came true. Shame the final you'll
be awarded will be just a diddy consolation
afternoon.
OVERALL - 4/10
I'll say what you're thinking - pish, man.
After all the thrilling volatility of the
Angeball season this was a stagnant affair
that bewildered logical perception; they're
so bad for 'Euro semifinalist titans' it
disputed the accepted construct of reality.
The fact we could not get Angeball imposed
upon them and make them suffer for their
tragic hubris was just as mystifying.
This was a RANK performance, dragged down
to the Hun level of discord, stumbling
through the day with all the fluency of
a brain-damaged Orange Walk drummer
attmepting to thrash out a Keith Moon
on acid rendition of My Generation
knowing the generation in question
are the fuckwit wee-lassie-terrorising
Onion Bears.
And yet...
Yet we had them, lumpen heids on the
chopping block, retching hordes ready to
tear wee Groinio limb from limb, and the
Big Man skelped the bar instead of the
Huns...
At 2-0 we were home and hosed, they were
cannibalised and thrashing like Tom Waits'
'Renfield' in the Seward Sanitarium asylum
in Dracula; "Master. Maaaasterrr.."
And we fucked it up... BUT, of all games
- if any - to lose and choke and generally
appear hapless - THIS was the one.
It's little comfort, I know, to find solace
in a karmaic trade-off after witnessing
such a lamentable surrender of advantage.
But we really did take a pig's ear of a game
and turn it into a silk purse, then cast it
back to the fermenting savages to glorify
as some sort of iconic triumph...
When we know full well it was an abstraction
of Celtic's own making; a ridiculous folly
of under-achievement, under-performance, and
complacency. We never got going, never imposed
or pressed, never found the defining class to
lift us above and beyond.
Yet, we still nearly won; SHOULD have won.
However, we did get what we deserved for a
malfunction in the matrix; A timely reminder
that it ain't over 'til it's over.
So get it back together, Celtic, and get after
the BIG prize.
Go Away Now.
Sandman.
Last edited:
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