Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ THE CITY OF DISCO. VERY DISCO.
"The only thing I'm addicted to right now, is winning."
- Charlie Sheen.
ROXIE - 6.5/10
Hero of Hampdump pays his final visit to another dump and
emerges victorious after a busy-yet-not-busy game. Not
anything to do in the way of spectacular saves, this was
Joe's day to call some shots, marshall an emabattled defence
and make sure he was absolutely pin-point for balls breaking
in the box.
Something he succeeed in immaculately until big cocksocket
Idah pulled an inverse Sebo and slashed in a Sunday morning
hangover OG special to share the tension headaches around.
Professional stoicism and a vice-captain's part well played.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 5.5/10
Toil and trouble and Greggs scurried and hurried like a
tormented hobgoblin just trying to keep the pot boiling.
Little opportunity for him to regain his attacking prowess
as our midfield capitulation had him pinned back foiling
wingers. He got through yet another sub-par day by sheer
willpower.
WAYNE GRETZKY - 5/10
After recent sterling performances AJ too hit a back-burner
of a day; a telling sign when we're struggling and require
his physicality. We're a much better outfit when he is on
the front-foot and not trying to coast through a tepid 90
minutes.
OF JUSTICE - 6.5/10
More like his early season. Appeared much sharper than
recent struggles would indicate; needed for some timely
interventions in our box.
Still lacking the physical presence required when the
pressure is really on; would like to see him rattle a
few hopefuls when opponents begin to fancy their chances.
These fuckers need reminded of their limitations when
Celtic are in town and we see too little of that these
days.
GET CARTER - 6/10
A solid if uneasy defensive display from the big mhan.
Never appeared comfortable with our deep-lying resistance
but did get himself in the way at important moments and
held a fairly decent line while we worryingly conceded
inordinate amounts of ground to them every time they
glanced towards our goal.
CALMAC - 3/10
Aw, the metronome hasn't hit his rhythm since injury
and the absence of our impressario's influence showed
alarmingly through a ragged first half. With his
eventual departure we then reliquished any semblance
of control in the second, which became mostly a bizarre
counter-attacking exercise.
THE BUILDER - 3.5/10
Matty? Matty? Has anyone seen Matty? Bizarre. Such a
presence all season. Such an abundance of match and
title-winning talent in those silken limbs.
And yet, when faced with a Sunday struggle in a hamlet
where even a pied piper can't find work because the
rats a have relocated in disgust, our handsomest soldier
went AWOL.
HAKUNA HATATE - 4/10
Jeez, Reo was poor. A match made for him to kill early
resulted in anonymous toil apart from a dreadfully
existential post-whapping moment that had you, me,
everyone, cursing the bad luck and reverting to
footballing superstition that we'd now go from nearly
sitting or extending a comfortable 3-0 lead, to conceding
and struggling to the death.
And. That. Happened. Woooooo... Cue Twilight Zone music...
TAKINTE - 6/10
The Bhoy keeps showing promise. Keeps showing lively
feet, a skip to open space, plenty options. And we keep
showing him ... Nothing; runs, space, service, all
rationed.
Someday soon I hope we synch, becasue there's some lovely
possibilities to exploit there.
KILLER MUSHROOM - 4/10
You. Back in the basement. Starvation diet. Manager's
orders. I'll repeat: Ghod help us if we decide to feed
him and win the title...
JAMESY - 8/10 MOTM
Goddamn! Jamesy beats the world simultaneous orgasm
record, twice in a day! Just edging out his previous record
set in a Prestwick beer garden during a 'World Feminist Day'
rally a few summers back.
Fondly remembered locally as the 'Jamesy Sorts Out Their
Nagging Agitation Afternoon', when a knackered, peaceful
calm descended upon the borough.
Whodda thunk it - the outcast, benighted, discarded, virtually
redundant Prestwick Pele saves the day if not the season with
a pair of thrilling crackers; and you can imagine the innuendo
possible around that summation.
Sumptuous volley off the side of his right foot deflowered
the Dundee resistance, and a slapped left-peg killer after
industrious battling, ravaged their virtue completely.
In crucial games like these, up steps the man least likely
and most disparaged; a Celtic legend without a song, ffs.
And yet we may end the season belting out 'Jamesy won the
league, Jamesy won the league, Jamesy won the league...
And shagged yer maw!" or something equally lyrically elaborate.
Hail Hail, The Flash.
SUBS -
TONIO IWATAO - 6/10
A bit of solidity in the midfield, thankfully.
Doesn't have the Calmac guile but sure can inject
some proper presence and smack down lively opposition.
BRIAN DE - N/A
Promising shoulder tattoo that could have been
Madonna/His Mum/Ghost Girl From 'The Ring/or
Wednesday Adams. As for the ball, he sclaffed it.
DUNCAN IDAHO - 2/10
KFC? No - JFC! The OTHER end, ya big dafite,
and somebody tell him fancies don't count so
he cuts the stupidest sequence of pointless
(back)heels since Tod Cantwell opened his closet
to public scrutiny.
THE SHNAKE - 6/10
Well, he got the win. And...
Thhhhat's all folks!
You know what I could say. You know what's been
said all season by 'haters' like me, yet with
gathering concensus - A dynamic winning squad
regressed to less-than-compliant automatons who
intermittently lose their way and seem bereft
of initiating any recovery mode.
Boo-Hoo, rub eyes, sneer at the nasty words
from the nasty anonymous fruitcake with the
keyboard.
And understand - sometimes the lunatics don't
need to take over the asylum to be right. Celtic
2024 are a indistinct facsimile of Celtic 2022
and 2023.
Hey, you 'voted' for it. Suck it up. We - HE -
are/is nearly there. Your Momma didn't tell
you it was going to be pretty. And she was right.
4 wins from the ugliest championship since Davie
Dodds lifted the trophy in 1983; coincidentally
the same year his missus won the 'Bravest WAGS
in Football' award.
Brendan has more refined tastes in burds - any
burd that looks tasty, really - and so we expect
that within three weeks we'll be dining out on
pheasant rather than the ropey pigeon pie we're
being served up just now.
Win it or die. As they say in chess club.
MIBBERY - 3/10
Aside from the usual raised-eyebrow, intermittent
and bewildering fussy awards, the MIBs were probably
exhausted from lunchtime celebrations.
So, damn - Johnny B and no controver-see. Poor rhymes
bordering on nascent pish rap is all we have this week,
surprisingly.
OVERALL - 5.5/10
As you were. A stalemate afternoon. And we were lucky to get
that. If ever you saw a Celtic side as magnanimous towards
the Huns and opposition, this is it.
Rough numbers show we've dropped crazy points (12+? Depressing
confirmation data in the replies, please...) across non-Hun
games and today's second half was the evidence the court needed
to convict all involved with criminal negligence.
For an opening speell, the script looked written to formula -
closing them into their pen, readying to dive in for the kill a
few times. However...
The dream midfield assembled was alarmingly disjointed,
picked-off and circumvented by a livelier Dundee engine.
We countered that swamping by... Well, doing fuck-all.
Fuck your Brendanista pandering, your excruciating niceties -
this Celtic side lacks a defined fluid gameplan, focus and
lethal instinct. All season we've seen comfortable positions
of superiority eroded to near-fatal cost.
Today was the prime example as we sat in after the break to
'control' the game and they pummelled us with seven hundred
and thirty-six corners leveraged by players with ZERO fear
of the 'champions'.
They also put the boot in at will, for want of a Broony-esque
presence dictating the physical narrative; we've simply nobody
who can get into opposition heads. Which, if you didn't know it
by now, is an incredibly important, intimate on-field factor in
winning, winning, winning...
But...
We won.
So, reboot expectations and realise that, bottom line - you'd
have taken the day as it stands. 4 to go, 3 points clear and 5
goals to the good.
Considering the stats, the big picture is still a sunrise.
You may feel an eclipse coming on, but let's hope this nonsense
performance, in isolation, is but another cloud cloaking the
radiance of a forthcoming title triumph.
Who'd have thought Dundee away with the title aching to be saved
from the jaws of the unholy abominations like a delectable maiden
in a dragon's clutches, would be so enervating?
A victory that didn't feel like a victory, yet propels us one
step closer to revamped CL glory and beyond. It's a funny old
game...
Go Away Now
Sandman
"The only thing I'm addicted to right now, is winning."
- Charlie Sheen.
ROXIE - 6.5/10
Hero of Hampdump pays his final visit to another dump and
emerges victorious after a busy-yet-not-busy game. Not
anything to do in the way of spectacular saves, this was
Joe's day to call some shots, marshall an emabattled defence
and make sure he was absolutely pin-point for balls breaking
in the box.
Something he succeeed in immaculately until big cocksocket
Idah pulled an inverse Sebo and slashed in a Sunday morning
hangover OG special to share the tension headaches around.
Professional stoicism and a vice-captain's part well played.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 5.5/10
Toil and trouble and Greggs scurried and hurried like a
tormented hobgoblin just trying to keep the pot boiling.
Little opportunity for him to regain his attacking prowess
as our midfield capitulation had him pinned back foiling
wingers. He got through yet another sub-par day by sheer
willpower.
WAYNE GRETZKY - 5/10
After recent sterling performances AJ too hit a back-burner
of a day; a telling sign when we're struggling and require
his physicality. We're a much better outfit when he is on
the front-foot and not trying to coast through a tepid 90
minutes.
OF JUSTICE - 6.5/10
More like his early season. Appeared much sharper than
recent struggles would indicate; needed for some timely
interventions in our box.
Still lacking the physical presence required when the
pressure is really on; would like to see him rattle a
few hopefuls when opponents begin to fancy their chances.
These fuckers need reminded of their limitations when
Celtic are in town and we see too little of that these
days.
GET CARTER - 6/10
A solid if uneasy defensive display from the big mhan.
Never appeared comfortable with our deep-lying resistance
but did get himself in the way at important moments and
held a fairly decent line while we worryingly conceded
inordinate amounts of ground to them every time they
glanced towards our goal.
CALMAC - 3/10
Aw, the metronome hasn't hit his rhythm since injury
and the absence of our impressario's influence showed
alarmingly through a ragged first half. With his
eventual departure we then reliquished any semblance
of control in the second, which became mostly a bizarre
counter-attacking exercise.
THE BUILDER - 3.5/10
Matty? Matty? Has anyone seen Matty? Bizarre. Such a
presence all season. Such an abundance of match and
title-winning talent in those silken limbs.
And yet, when faced with a Sunday struggle in a hamlet
where even a pied piper can't find work because the
rats a have relocated in disgust, our handsomest soldier
went AWOL.
HAKUNA HATATE - 4/10
Jeez, Reo was poor. A match made for him to kill early
resulted in anonymous toil apart from a dreadfully
existential post-whapping moment that had you, me,
everyone, cursing the bad luck and reverting to
footballing superstition that we'd now go from nearly
sitting or extending a comfortable 3-0 lead, to conceding
and struggling to the death.
And. That. Happened. Woooooo... Cue Twilight Zone music...
TAKINTE - 6/10
The Bhoy keeps showing promise. Keeps showing lively
feet, a skip to open space, plenty options. And we keep
showing him ... Nothing; runs, space, service, all
rationed.
Someday soon I hope we synch, becasue there's some lovely
possibilities to exploit there.
KILLER MUSHROOM - 4/10
You. Back in the basement. Starvation diet. Manager's
orders. I'll repeat: Ghod help us if we decide to feed
him and win the title...
JAMESY - 8/10 MOTM
Goddamn! Jamesy beats the world simultaneous orgasm
record, twice in a day! Just edging out his previous record
set in a Prestwick beer garden during a 'World Feminist Day'
rally a few summers back.
Fondly remembered locally as the 'Jamesy Sorts Out Their
Nagging Agitation Afternoon', when a knackered, peaceful
calm descended upon the borough.
Whodda thunk it - the outcast, benighted, discarded, virtually
redundant Prestwick Pele saves the day if not the season with
a pair of thrilling crackers; and you can imagine the innuendo
possible around that summation.
Sumptuous volley off the side of his right foot deflowered
the Dundee resistance, and a slapped left-peg killer after
industrious battling, ravaged their virtue completely.
In crucial games like these, up steps the man least likely
and most disparaged; a Celtic legend without a song, ffs.
And yet we may end the season belting out 'Jamesy won the
league, Jamesy won the league, Jamesy won the league...
And shagged yer maw!" or something equally lyrically elaborate.
Hail Hail, The Flash.
SUBS -
TONIO IWATAO - 6/10
A bit of solidity in the midfield, thankfully.
Doesn't have the Calmac guile but sure can inject
some proper presence and smack down lively opposition.
BRIAN DE - N/A
Promising shoulder tattoo that could have been
Madonna/His Mum/Ghost Girl From 'The Ring/or
Wednesday Adams. As for the ball, he sclaffed it.
DUNCAN IDAHO - 2/10
KFC? No - JFC! The OTHER end, ya big dafite,
and somebody tell him fancies don't count so
he cuts the stupidest sequence of pointless
(back)heels since Tod Cantwell opened his closet
to public scrutiny.
THE SHNAKE - 6/10
Well, he got the win. And...
Thhhhat's all folks!
You know what I could say. You know what's been
said all season by 'haters' like me, yet with
gathering concensus - A dynamic winning squad
regressed to less-than-compliant automatons who
intermittently lose their way and seem bereft
of initiating any recovery mode.
Boo-Hoo, rub eyes, sneer at the nasty words
from the nasty anonymous fruitcake with the
keyboard.
And understand - sometimes the lunatics don't
need to take over the asylum to be right. Celtic
2024 are a indistinct facsimile of Celtic 2022
and 2023.
Hey, you 'voted' for it. Suck it up. We - HE -
are/is nearly there. Your Momma didn't tell
you it was going to be pretty. And she was right.
4 wins from the ugliest championship since Davie
Dodds lifted the trophy in 1983; coincidentally
the same year his missus won the 'Bravest WAGS
in Football' award.
Brendan has more refined tastes in burds - any
burd that looks tasty, really - and so we expect
that within three weeks we'll be dining out on
pheasant rather than the ropey pigeon pie we're
being served up just now.
Win it or die. As they say in chess club.
MIBBERY - 3/10
Aside from the usual raised-eyebrow, intermittent
and bewildering fussy awards, the MIBs were probably
exhausted from lunchtime celebrations.
So, damn - Johnny B and no controver-see. Poor rhymes
bordering on nascent pish rap is all we have this week,
surprisingly.
OVERALL - 5.5/10
As you were. A stalemate afternoon. And we were lucky to get
that. If ever you saw a Celtic side as magnanimous towards
the Huns and opposition, this is it.
Rough numbers show we've dropped crazy points (12+? Depressing
confirmation data in the replies, please...) across non-Hun
games and today's second half was the evidence the court needed
to convict all involved with criminal negligence.
For an opening speell, the script looked written to formula -
closing them into their pen, readying to dive in for the kill a
few times. However...
The dream midfield assembled was alarmingly disjointed,
picked-off and circumvented by a livelier Dundee engine.
We countered that swamping by... Well, doing fuck-all.
Fuck your Brendanista pandering, your excruciating niceties -
this Celtic side lacks a defined fluid gameplan, focus and
lethal instinct. All season we've seen comfortable positions
of superiority eroded to near-fatal cost.
Today was the prime example as we sat in after the break to
'control' the game and they pummelled us with seven hundred
and thirty-six corners leveraged by players with ZERO fear
of the 'champions'.
They also put the boot in at will, for want of a Broony-esque
presence dictating the physical narrative; we've simply nobody
who can get into opposition heads. Which, if you didn't know it
by now, is an incredibly important, intimate on-field factor in
winning, winning, winning...
But...
We won.
So, reboot expectations and realise that, bottom line - you'd
have taken the day as it stands. 4 to go, 3 points clear and 5
goals to the good.
Considering the stats, the big picture is still a sunrise.
You may feel an eclipse coming on, but let's hope this nonsense
performance, in isolation, is but another cloud cloaking the
radiance of a forthcoming title triumph.
Who'd have thought Dundee away with the title aching to be saved
from the jaws of the unholy abominations like a delectable maiden
in a dragon's clutches, would be so enervating?
A victory that didn't feel like a victory, yet propels us one
step closer to revamped CL glory and beyond. It's a funny old
game...
Go Away Now
Sandman
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