Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ SHAGGEDYER
"They think it's all over. It isn't now! Stupid Huns..."
- Kenneth Wolstenholme
ROXIE - 7.5/10
Joe the magnificent. But for his resistance all
winter like a reincarnated Game Of Thrones swordsman,
we'd have long since been suffering under the
jackboots of the Night King and his zombie hordes
(Clementine and his slavering degenerate fanbase,
for the slow readers...).
So Joe Snow has single-glovedly kept us alive.
The breathtaking pivotal moment today was a reaction
save, near point-blank, to stop them taking a second
lead you knew we weren't coming back from.
Joe's got a dozen or so games left in his decorated
football career and you can count on him living every
moment of every one for the cause.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 6/10
Gurnin' Greggsy - looked as happy as Peter Lawwell
having to walk amongst poor people, as he spent most
of the time floundering with the rest. But Greggs'
capacity to keep at it is limitless and the moment
he got it right changed the course of the game, with
a fine flighted ball for the equaliser.
WAYNE GRETZKY - 6.5/10
"I'm Batman..." Yet played more like Catwoman
first-half, pussying about and appearing out of
sorts.
Then the mask got cast, true identity revealed -
The Moose! - and his game reached caped crusader
levels when he finally found his touch, linking
with Ying to ramp up some chaos, and played a
terrific instinctive ball in for the orgasmic
second.
OF JUSTICE - 4.5/10
The bhoy was in a real groove first few months
of the season. Now finds himself stuck in a ditch.
Getting rolled by journeymen, getting lax with his
passing, ropey with positioning; still got a cultured
left foot and remains nimble, but looks stale.
Probably a small niggling injury would be best to
sideline him and let him reboot to finish the
season fresh in mind and spirit, rather than a
confidence-draining benching. But he's going to
cost us dearly at this rate of decline.
APOLLO CREED - 6/10
Looked handicapped by malfuctioning Liam, and was
nearly overrun on a couple of ocassions. However,
he provided a vital physical repellant when we
badly needed one and was clean and efficient
playing out from the back.
TONIO IWATAO - 7.5/10
One of the few who gave 90 minutes of the standard
expected. Well, not 90 because someone decided he
should be replaced... A decision that even invoked
a cry of 'He's no' got a fuckin' clue!' from the
sightless, grandmaster trappist monk watching telly in
the ancient monastery up in the snowbound Himalayan
town where Tonio grew up.*
Great exhibition of DM with positional breakup play
and precise passing and support. The indomitable
presence we need in there. Just like everyone's
been asking for. All season. Is there anybody
listening?
*No he didn't.
CALMAC - 5.5/10
Off his game but on his job; surprised the advanced
role did not find Calmac playing with greater abandon;
found himself running into trouble a lot, playing down
cul-de-scas. But he kept his skipper's head on and the
verbal drive was in his team-mates ears until the
death.
THE BUILDER - 5/10
Just not here or there where he should have been.
Mercurial Matty never managed to find the lethal
drift to hurt them. And his creative spark was
absent as he fruitlessly struck damp flint for 90
minutes.
KILLER MUSHROOM - 3/10
Ach, one chance, one near thing blocked by the keeper.
And probably one touch outwith that. Starvation diet
continues for our most lethal (pre-Rodgers) striker
since Henrik. It's a crime.
LORD KATSUMOTO - 6.5/10
Daizen! Daizen! Yas! No... Yas? No... Eh? The
human shuttlecock shows the rest how it's done
in the name of committment and selfless endeavour.
Then blows his deserved reward as matchwinner
with one of the most ghastly inexplicable
misses since we saw Michael Mols' wife...
TAKINTE - 3/10
About time KT and Paddy Roberts gave their offspring
a talking to - he seems to have some twinklng feet
there, but is far too passive and ineffective.
Particularly in this moment when we need a rampaging
destroyer.
SUBS -
DUNCAN IDAHO - 8.5/10 MOTM
From Big Joe to Big Doh! Extremes of the team win the
day, and Dunc gets the impact sub of the season award
for a miraculous appearance from the Steeltown shadows
to make the Huns choke on their medicine with two
spoonfuls of fenian sugar, like an inverse Mary Poppins
from Cork.
Sharp, mobile and uncompromising; a throwback to classic
centre-forward days on a day we most needed it. Thumping
header, vicious poke, and the afterthought loanee from
Alan Partridge Fc suddenly has the support asking
questions. Well, one - 'How much?'.
YING - 7/10
Will the real Yang stand up! Unlikely hero number two
emerges with that customary no-fucks-given expression
and does what it says on the face - incessant tin-opener
feet hustle and abuse their left side, resulting in
game-winning chances.
BRIAN DE - 6/10
A joyous icing on the cake moment and a heartfelt message
in prayer for a tragic friend. And of course in the SPL that
gets ye booked, Tim...
SAINT BERNARDO - N/A
On to bemusement, not prominent, as others got the job
done while he filled-in.
GET CARTER - 6/10
Is the big mhan back for good? Let's hope so as ideas
got bucked up around his entry.
THE SHNAKE - 6/10
From a lucky Man to a flukey man. Saved by his subs who
carved out the crucial win by the shine of his chompers,
therefore can claim plaudits for his 'tactical nous'...
But we all saw the jaws of death open wide and the title
dangle over the pit of despair. That's a treble-winning
squad out there looking more like a chaotic Monty Python
sketch.
And you're not pinning the blame for such tepid football
on the plush-bottomed yahoos sat in the directors'
box or the players themselves, once upon-a-time focussed
and dynamic and all-conquering. Sort it or stroll on.
MIBBERY - 5/10
Nice try, no cigar. Right to the end they went, nitpicking
over the third in the name of goal diff... Sorry, 'rules
application'. Not even with those eyes in the back of his
heid could Gollum deny the sickening injury-time blows to
his overlords' dark desires. Cope harder.
OVERALL - 6.5/10
So after yesterday's illegal and incestuous cousin-pumping
in the Mordor Hate Pit ("Hearts, Hearts, glorious Hearts,
Touching our toes for the Govan rats...") the task for the
Hoops was pure and simple: smash those Mothers...
Almost impossible to see any light of glory on the horizon
in that diabolical first half as we trundled around like
Stephen Hawking on Epstein Island - hapless, seemingly
incapable of scoring; just hoping for some action to
come our way.
Then the switcheroo, and the real Celts turned up for 45+6
minutes of title-saving intensity. When the air reeks of Hun
vomit you know something very Celtic happened in the nick
of time, and in our case today it was a cheeky Mick in the
mick of time. (See what I did there all you triggered
racial-stereotyping Karens? - and I'm allowed to do it in
the same way as when black rappers use the word ni...).
So as the darkest parts of the land fall into a night scored
by the sound of teeth-gnashing Huns eating their own dugs
alive, we can view the disastrous performance of the opening
half eclipsed by that buoyant second 45, as a bait-and-switch
play.
We'd hoped for a comfortable slaughter. But in some way the
method of victory here can ignite our resurgence and be
psychologically damaging to their momentum; minutes from a
cushion of a slip-up they were, and similarly us from a
daunting vertical ascent back to the summit.
Now our players can anchor their focus on today's second-half
display and reference that going forward. Potent belief in
their ability to seize the points like that is priceless. 'Mon The
Hoops
Go Away Now
Sandman
"They think it's all over. It isn't now! Stupid Huns..."
- Kenneth Wolstenholme
ROXIE - 7.5/10
Joe the magnificent. But for his resistance all
winter like a reincarnated Game Of Thrones swordsman,
we'd have long since been suffering under the
jackboots of the Night King and his zombie hordes
(Clementine and his slavering degenerate fanbase,
for the slow readers...).
So Joe Snow has single-glovedly kept us alive.
The breathtaking pivotal moment today was a reaction
save, near point-blank, to stop them taking a second
lead you knew we weren't coming back from.
Joe's got a dozen or so games left in his decorated
football career and you can count on him living every
moment of every one for the cause.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 6/10
Gurnin' Greggsy - looked as happy as Peter Lawwell
having to walk amongst poor people, as he spent most
of the time floundering with the rest. But Greggs'
capacity to keep at it is limitless and the moment
he got it right changed the course of the game, with
a fine flighted ball for the equaliser.
WAYNE GRETZKY - 6.5/10
"I'm Batman..." Yet played more like Catwoman
first-half, pussying about and appearing out of
sorts.
Then the mask got cast, true identity revealed -
The Moose! - and his game reached caped crusader
levels when he finally found his touch, linking
with Ying to ramp up some chaos, and played a
terrific instinctive ball in for the orgasmic
second.
OF JUSTICE - 4.5/10
The bhoy was in a real groove first few months
of the season. Now finds himself stuck in a ditch.
Getting rolled by journeymen, getting lax with his
passing, ropey with positioning; still got a cultured
left foot and remains nimble, but looks stale.
Probably a small niggling injury would be best to
sideline him and let him reboot to finish the
season fresh in mind and spirit, rather than a
confidence-draining benching. But he's going to
cost us dearly at this rate of decline.
APOLLO CREED - 6/10
Looked handicapped by malfuctioning Liam, and was
nearly overrun on a couple of ocassions. However,
he provided a vital physical repellant when we
badly needed one and was clean and efficient
playing out from the back.
TONIO IWATAO - 7.5/10
One of the few who gave 90 minutes of the standard
expected. Well, not 90 because someone decided he
should be replaced... A decision that even invoked
a cry of 'He's no' got a fuckin' clue!' from the
sightless, grandmaster trappist monk watching telly in
the ancient monastery up in the snowbound Himalayan
town where Tonio grew up.*
Great exhibition of DM with positional breakup play
and precise passing and support. The indomitable
presence we need in there. Just like everyone's
been asking for. All season. Is there anybody
listening?
*No he didn't.
CALMAC - 5.5/10
Off his game but on his job; surprised the advanced
role did not find Calmac playing with greater abandon;
found himself running into trouble a lot, playing down
cul-de-scas. But he kept his skipper's head on and the
verbal drive was in his team-mates ears until the
death.
THE BUILDER - 5/10
Just not here or there where he should have been.
Mercurial Matty never managed to find the lethal
drift to hurt them. And his creative spark was
absent as he fruitlessly struck damp flint for 90
minutes.
KILLER MUSHROOM - 3/10
Ach, one chance, one near thing blocked by the keeper.
And probably one touch outwith that. Starvation diet
continues for our most lethal (pre-Rodgers) striker
since Henrik. It's a crime.
LORD KATSUMOTO - 6.5/10
Daizen! Daizen! Yas! No... Yas? No... Eh? The
human shuttlecock shows the rest how it's done
in the name of committment and selfless endeavour.
Then blows his deserved reward as matchwinner
with one of the most ghastly inexplicable
misses since we saw Michael Mols' wife...
TAKINTE - 3/10
About time KT and Paddy Roberts gave their offspring
a talking to - he seems to have some twinklng feet
there, but is far too passive and ineffective.
Particularly in this moment when we need a rampaging
destroyer.
SUBS -
DUNCAN IDAHO - 8.5/10 MOTM
From Big Joe to Big Doh! Extremes of the team win the
day, and Dunc gets the impact sub of the season award
for a miraculous appearance from the Steeltown shadows
to make the Huns choke on their medicine with two
spoonfuls of fenian sugar, like an inverse Mary Poppins
from Cork.
Sharp, mobile and uncompromising; a throwback to classic
centre-forward days on a day we most needed it. Thumping
header, vicious poke, and the afterthought loanee from
Alan Partridge Fc suddenly has the support asking
questions. Well, one - 'How much?'.
YING - 7/10
Will the real Yang stand up! Unlikely hero number two
emerges with that customary no-fucks-given expression
and does what it says on the face - incessant tin-opener
feet hustle and abuse their left side, resulting in
game-winning chances.
BRIAN DE - 6/10
A joyous icing on the cake moment and a heartfelt message
in prayer for a tragic friend. And of course in the SPL that
gets ye booked, Tim...
SAINT BERNARDO - N/A
On to bemusement, not prominent, as others got the job
done while he filled-in.
GET CARTER - 6/10
Is the big mhan back for good? Let's hope so as ideas
got bucked up around his entry.
THE SHNAKE - 6/10
From a lucky Man to a flukey man. Saved by his subs who
carved out the crucial win by the shine of his chompers,
therefore can claim plaudits for his 'tactical nous'...
But we all saw the jaws of death open wide and the title
dangle over the pit of despair. That's a treble-winning
squad out there looking more like a chaotic Monty Python
sketch.
And you're not pinning the blame for such tepid football
on the plush-bottomed yahoos sat in the directors'
box or the players themselves, once upon-a-time focussed
and dynamic and all-conquering. Sort it or stroll on.
MIBBERY - 5/10
Nice try, no cigar. Right to the end they went, nitpicking
over the third in the name of goal diff... Sorry, 'rules
application'. Not even with those eyes in the back of his
heid could Gollum deny the sickening injury-time blows to
his overlords' dark desires. Cope harder.
OVERALL - 6.5/10
So after yesterday's illegal and incestuous cousin-pumping
in the Mordor Hate Pit ("Hearts, Hearts, glorious Hearts,
Touching our toes for the Govan rats...") the task for the
Hoops was pure and simple: smash those Mothers...
Almost impossible to see any light of glory on the horizon
in that diabolical first half as we trundled around like
Stephen Hawking on Epstein Island - hapless, seemingly
incapable of scoring; just hoping for some action to
come our way.
Then the switcheroo, and the real Celts turned up for 45+6
minutes of title-saving intensity. When the air reeks of Hun
vomit you know something very Celtic happened in the nick
of time, and in our case today it was a cheeky Mick in the
mick of time. (See what I did there all you triggered
racial-stereotyping Karens? - and I'm allowed to do it in
the same way as when black rappers use the word ni...).
So as the darkest parts of the land fall into a night scored
by the sound of teeth-gnashing Huns eating their own dugs
alive, we can view the disastrous performance of the opening
half eclipsed by that buoyant second 45, as a bait-and-switch
play.
We'd hoped for a comfortable slaughter. But in some way the
method of victory here can ignite our resurgence and be
psychologically damaging to their momentum; minutes from a
cushion of a slip-up they were, and similarly us from a
daunting vertical ascent back to the summit.
Now our players can anchor their focus on today's second-half
display and reference that going forward. Potent belief in
their ability to seize the points like that is priceless. 'Mon The
Hoops
Go Away Now
Sandman
Slàinte
woof!
