Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v CLEMENTINE'S FLUFFERS
'Vorfreude' -
{n.} The joyful, intense anticipation that comes from
imgining future pleasures.
ROXIE - 8/10
Now Big Joe's more than trouble
You see he stand 'bout six foot four
All those downtown ladies call him "Treetop Lover"
All the Huns just call him "Sir"
And he's bad, bad Big Joe Hart
The baddest man in the whole damn town
Badder than old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog...
...And solid as the aged diamond he is, pulling
off a fingertip wondersave at 1-0 and blocking a
sickening score-halfer with his magnificent breasts.
Crucial moments in a game that may have defined
the season. Goalkeeping magnificence in action.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 6.5/10
Much more zip about Greggsy, probably due to the
regular 3pm start that gave him time for a nap
after the morning bake-off.
We benefitted with more left-side presence as he
was sprightly into challenges and interceptions,
nicking things and winning duels; his most
comprehensive 90 minutes in a while.
WAYNE GRETZKY - 6.5/10
Adjusted his game slightly to cope with the extra
threat he knew these scurrilous shysters would
present. We didn't get as much surging overlapping
play as normal, but added solidity instead.
OF JUSTICE - 7/10
Much more like the zoned-in ginger Baresi from
autumnal heights. He had a genuine threat to deal
with and handled the ocassion with composed focus;
no shoddy passing or dozing off. Today exemplified
why he's held that sweeper-ish role - all about
sharpness of mind and positional awreness.
GET CARTER - 7.5/10
"I'll fuck you up. It's my job."
And with that promise ringing in his jug ears,
Fiveheid Lawrence The Loyalist ended up receeding
further than his hairline to play defensive midfield.
'Comprehensive' applied to other player's games
(re: Greggs) means all-round competency. With CCV,
it's basically comprehensively ragdolling anyone in
his way.
Big Mhan wants title. Big Mhan will dine on Huns to
get it.
CALMAC - 7/10
Yas! The metronome is back, almost. Not 100% but 100%
committed to the cause, lighting up the second half
with a scintillating recovery run and double
Diet-Hun-smashing tackles that needs the Chariots Of
Fire soundtrack played over it.
He's going to be finely-tuned for the final four and
should lift that double as a deserving Captain Fantastic.
THE BUILDER - 8.5/10 MOTM
Swarthy gallus genius; that's what wins you titles.
The bhoy's back in his killer groove after some
turbulent early months of the year. His pressing was
quality, surpassed by his passing - a down-the-park-
with-yer-mates-hail-mary-special to set up the 2nd.
And his clinical penalty swept high into the rigging
was the icing on an O'Reilly-constructed indispensable
win.
And he also left the dining room accessible.
(See what I did there, John Cleese afficonados?)
HAKUNA HATATE - 7/10
Another vital cog revving back up towards his best
from an injury-ravaged season. Laid on the opener
with a clever delivery right into the heart of
darkness.
Looked ingenuitive for the rest of his time, perhaps
just about 10% away from premuim Reo who'd have
snapped up at least one of the openings presented
to him.
JAMESY - 7.5/10
"Go down, Jamesy!" is an exclamation heard often,
in certain circumstances...
But, "Go down, Jamesy!" was the unanimous cry today
after - inversely - it was his turn to 'take one in
the face.' Fnarr.
A mirror incident of Yang's Meth Star dismissal went
unpunished, maybe only because Jamesy is so honest.
Or thick-heided.
Then we got a Prestwick Pele performance of unusual
intensity - very busy as opposed to bursts of activity.
It was good old-fashioned wing play that, while not
providing a goal, kept Hearts occupied on both flanks
and left them very much like a Jamesy conquest - tied
up in knots, exhausted, and happy to see the back of him.
KILLER MUSHROOM - 8/10
And Lo, the sand(man)skrit tablet scriptures read:
'The title's in his boots. Feed him and win it all."
As written.
And the prodigal son finally relented to the wisdom
of the a
ges and played and serviced the tiny,
deadly, skelper of Huns. As Colossians 1:12-13 said,
'Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness,
and hath translated us into the kingdom of the League
of Champions.'
TAKINTE - 6/10
The only Hooped shirt that appeared hesitant in the
face of secondary ugliness.
Not that he had a bad game; he was just -
"Over-deliberate in his use of the ball and, bizarrely
for a damned German, reluctant to shoot on sight."
- General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmany Melchett
SUBS -
DUNCAN IDAHO - N/A
Kept up the general vibe when he appeared - hustling
and chasing down everything and anything.
TONIO IWATAO - 6/10
Something strangely comforting about having both Calmac
and Tomoki in midfield together; a placebo of extra
security.
SAINT BERNARDO - N/A
"Jee-sus, Matt O'Reilly's fucking everywhere today!
Like there are two of him out there..."
Alright, I hadn't realised he'd been subbed on.
LORD KATSUMOTO - N/A
Yas! Prior to his appearance in the new series of
'The Boys' on Amazon (or 'The Bhoys'...) our
indestructible perpetual-motion-engine Japanese
superhero makes a heralded appearance, mainly for
the brief few minutes footage of him hunting down
their fullback like a demented wolverine savaging
a spring lamb, that was immediately fired over to
Tavpen to ruin his Saturday night pre-match pumping
of Lundstrum.
And he cried. Immediately.
BRIAN DE - N/A
'What kind of fucking pass is that? suicidal.'
'What kind of fucking pass is that? Marvellous.'
The Palma Paradox, in two moments of involvement.
THE SHNAKE - 8/10
The apostate claws his way back up out of the leper
pit, eyes upon the apostle status once more.
And there's not a slip or mis-step or lost grip that
will forgive at this stage. Every one MUST be a winner,
and today was perhaps the biggest relief of all.
His season's nemisis, Nasalsmith, rolls into town with
the Hun-Happy simps from Edinburgh's dark side, looking
for another silken Celtic scalp to parade back down Gorgie
Gargoyle Gorge to the Half-Hun troglydite hordes.
Not today, Festival Queen. Buck got his Rodgering
spot-on, and is but four wins from redemption in the
Timite hallowed vaults.
MIBBERY - 5/10
Snickery-snickery - the sound Clancy Drew makes as he
attempts to stumble and stagger and glitch the Celtic
difference engine. But even with the intermittent,
retrograde finickity fouls and contradictory awards
designed to infuriate, this Celtic championship software's
running too smoothly on high-clocked processors to freeze
at the behest of rogue anomalies in the matrix.
OVERALL - 8.5/10
Best performance of the season. Relatively speaking.
The list of 'Fucking Things That We Know Will Go Fucking
Wrong Today' was already written in your head after the
excruciating failures on multiple occassions to kill off
teams and concede countless points.
But not today. Even at 2-0 with ten to go the bhoys were
relentless. Like my heartbeat. Yet, on reflection - why
so serious?
Every component played its part and the title-winning
machine fired up into killfrenzy mode after a stuttering
opening few minutes.
I guess it was the two previous anguishing and demoralising
losses to this cohort of Hun-enablers that seemed ominous -
happy like their gimp-suited support to be enthusiastically
bitchslapped by the Huns time and time again (check the stats,
apologists) yet who seem overcome by a seedy, unhealhy
excitement when there's a hooped bandwagon to upset.
But not today. On this day of days. May the 4th fuck you up.
The Bhoys are dead-set on course, hopefully dead-set in belief.
Just win, win, win, and the glory days are here again.
And now we wait. For the capitulation at Mordor tomorrow.
For the schadenfreude Saturday looming. For the sweet taste
of torment.
And the smell of charred Hun carcass. Smells like... Victory?
Tick-Tock.
Go Away Now
Sandman
'Vorfreude' -
{n.} The joyful, intense anticipation that comes from
imgining future pleasures.
ROXIE - 8/10
Now Big Joe's more than trouble
You see he stand 'bout six foot four
All those downtown ladies call him "Treetop Lover"
All the Huns just call him "Sir"
And he's bad, bad Big Joe Hart
The baddest man in the whole damn town
Badder than old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog...
...And solid as the aged diamond he is, pulling
off a fingertip wondersave at 1-0 and blocking a
sickening score-halfer with his magnificent breasts.
Crucial moments in a game that may have defined
the season. Goalkeeping magnificence in action.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 6.5/10
Much more zip about Greggsy, probably due to the
regular 3pm start that gave him time for a nap
after the morning bake-off.
We benefitted with more left-side presence as he
was sprightly into challenges and interceptions,
nicking things and winning duels; his most
comprehensive 90 minutes in a while.
WAYNE GRETZKY - 6.5/10
Adjusted his game slightly to cope with the extra
threat he knew these scurrilous shysters would
present. We didn't get as much surging overlapping
play as normal, but added solidity instead.
OF JUSTICE - 7/10
Much more like the zoned-in ginger Baresi from
autumnal heights. He had a genuine threat to deal
with and handled the ocassion with composed focus;
no shoddy passing or dozing off. Today exemplified
why he's held that sweeper-ish role - all about
sharpness of mind and positional awreness.
GET CARTER - 7.5/10
"I'll fuck you up. It's my job."
And with that promise ringing in his jug ears,
Fiveheid Lawrence The Loyalist ended up receeding
further than his hairline to play defensive midfield.
'Comprehensive' applied to other player's games
(re: Greggs) means all-round competency. With CCV,
it's basically comprehensively ragdolling anyone in
his way.
Big Mhan wants title. Big Mhan will dine on Huns to
get it.
CALMAC - 7/10
Yas! The metronome is back, almost. Not 100% but 100%
committed to the cause, lighting up the second half
with a scintillating recovery run and double
Diet-Hun-smashing tackles that needs the Chariots Of
Fire soundtrack played over it.
He's going to be finely-tuned for the final four and
should lift that double as a deserving Captain Fantastic.
THE BUILDER - 8.5/10 MOTM
Swarthy gallus genius; that's what wins you titles.
The bhoy's back in his killer groove after some
turbulent early months of the year. His pressing was
quality, surpassed by his passing - a down-the-park-
with-yer-mates-hail-mary-special to set up the 2nd.
And his clinical penalty swept high into the rigging
was the icing on an O'Reilly-constructed indispensable
win.
And he also left the dining room accessible.
(See what I did there, John Cleese afficonados?)
HAKUNA HATATE - 7/10
Another vital cog revving back up towards his best
from an injury-ravaged season. Laid on the opener
with a clever delivery right into the heart of
darkness.
Looked ingenuitive for the rest of his time, perhaps
just about 10% away from premuim Reo who'd have
snapped up at least one of the openings presented
to him.
JAMESY - 7.5/10
"Go down, Jamesy!" is an exclamation heard often,
in certain circumstances...
But, "Go down, Jamesy!" was the unanimous cry today
after - inversely - it was his turn to 'take one in
the face.' Fnarr.
A mirror incident of Yang's Meth Star dismissal went
unpunished, maybe only because Jamesy is so honest.
Or thick-heided.
Then we got a Prestwick Pele performance of unusual
intensity - very busy as opposed to bursts of activity.
It was good old-fashioned wing play that, while not
providing a goal, kept Hearts occupied on both flanks
and left them very much like a Jamesy conquest - tied
up in knots, exhausted, and happy to see the back of him.
KILLER MUSHROOM - 8/10
And Lo, the sand(man)skrit tablet scriptures read:
'The title's in his boots. Feed him and win it all."
As written.
And the prodigal son finally relented to the wisdom
of the a
ges and played and serviced the tiny, deadly, skelper of Huns. As Colossians 1:12-13 said,
'Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness,
and hath translated us into the kingdom of the League
of Champions.'
TAKINTE - 6/10
The only Hooped shirt that appeared hesitant in the
face of secondary ugliness.
Not that he had a bad game; he was just -
"Over-deliberate in his use of the ball and, bizarrely
for a damned German, reluctant to shoot on sight."
- General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmany Melchett
SUBS -
DUNCAN IDAHO - N/A
Kept up the general vibe when he appeared - hustling
and chasing down everything and anything.
TONIO IWATAO - 6/10
Something strangely comforting about having both Calmac
and Tomoki in midfield together; a placebo of extra
security.
SAINT BERNARDO - N/A
"Jee-sus, Matt O'Reilly's fucking everywhere today!
Like there are two of him out there..."
Alright, I hadn't realised he'd been subbed on.
LORD KATSUMOTO - N/A
Yas! Prior to his appearance in the new series of
'The Boys' on Amazon (or 'The Bhoys'...) our
indestructible perpetual-motion-engine Japanese
superhero makes a heralded appearance, mainly for
the brief few minutes footage of him hunting down
their fullback like a demented wolverine savaging
a spring lamb, that was immediately fired over to
Tavpen to ruin his Saturday night pre-match pumping
of Lundstrum.
And he cried. Immediately.
BRIAN DE - N/A
'What kind of fucking pass is that? suicidal.'
'What kind of fucking pass is that? Marvellous.'
The Palma Paradox, in two moments of involvement.
THE SHNAKE - 8/10
The apostate claws his way back up out of the leper
pit, eyes upon the apostle status once more.
And there's not a slip or mis-step or lost grip that
will forgive at this stage. Every one MUST be a winner,
and today was perhaps the biggest relief of all.
His season's nemisis, Nasalsmith, rolls into town with
the Hun-Happy simps from Edinburgh's dark side, looking
for another silken Celtic scalp to parade back down Gorgie
Gargoyle Gorge to the Half-Hun troglydite hordes.
Not today, Festival Queen. Buck got his Rodgering
spot-on, and is but four wins from redemption in the
Timite hallowed vaults.
MIBBERY - 5/10
Snickery-snickery - the sound Clancy Drew makes as he
attempts to stumble and stagger and glitch the Celtic
difference engine. But even with the intermittent,
retrograde finickity fouls and contradictory awards
designed to infuriate, this Celtic championship software's
running too smoothly on high-clocked processors to freeze
at the behest of rogue anomalies in the matrix.
OVERALL - 8.5/10
Best performance of the season. Relatively speaking.
The list of 'Fucking Things That We Know Will Go Fucking
Wrong Today' was already written in your head after the
excruciating failures on multiple occassions to kill off
teams and concede countless points.
But not today. Even at 2-0 with ten to go the bhoys were
relentless. Like my heartbeat. Yet, on reflection - why
so serious?
Every component played its part and the title-winning
machine fired up into killfrenzy mode after a stuttering
opening few minutes.
I guess it was the two previous anguishing and demoralising
losses to this cohort of Hun-enablers that seemed ominous -
happy like their gimp-suited support to be enthusiastically
bitchslapped by the Huns time and time again (check the stats,
apologists) yet who seem overcome by a seedy, unhealhy
excitement when there's a hooped bandwagon to upset.
But not today. On this day of days. May the 4th fuck you up.
The Bhoys are dead-set on course, hopefully dead-set in belief.
Just win, win, win, and the glory days are here again.
And now we wait. For the capitulation at Mordor tomorrow.
For the schadenfreude Saturday looming. For the sweet taste
of torment.
And the smell of charred Hun carcass. Smells like... Victory?
Tick-Tock.
Go Away Now
Sandman
