SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v MOTHERSRUIN
“That’s a dead parrot,” Albian Ajeti.
“No it’s not. It’s sleeping,” The Disciplinary Review Panel’s 3 ‘wise’ Bear-Monkeys.
BANE – 6.5/10 – Buy the dip! They say if you’re after some Bitcoin. Save the dip! We screamed at the supervillain, but he remained rooted like Batman had appeared on the crossbar. Yet, I’m not putting it on him – the deflection was a keeper’s nightmare and the story of our season. He made a great save with his foot prior to it and looked alert to the late pressure, even if all he could do was chuck Celtic players out of his way as we folded like a red-hot Mars bar and crammed the goalmouth.
GREGGS THE BAKER- 7/10 – His deliveries are definitely improving, maybe now that he’s utilising Uber Eats
we’ll see more crosses like his sausage rolls – on time and hot to the touch. Probably his best game in a Celtic shirt – consistent and confident in majority of his involvement.
JONO O’NEILL – 6.5/10 – Very competitive in the blocked-cross and mislaid pass crystal decanter competition
with Greggs early on, but the the vast percentage of his game was lively and enterprising. So far he’s had two games and showed no eccentricities or quirks that might cause anxious pearl-clutching. Moreover, some smart play had us head-scratching at this unfamiliar competence. I expect his mum and dad – ex-Celts Gary
Hooper and Adam Matthews – will be very proud.
AJER – 6.5/10 – Currently wearing the relief of an inmate from ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ who’s just jumped out the window with Chief. That’s what a spell in defence with Shane Duffy does to you. Now his rehabilitation involves navigating a youngster through the tribulations of a Celtic defence in a novelty down-season. Today he performed as fine an escorting job as Charlie Sheen ever shelled out for.
RAQUEL – 8.5/10 WOTM –Outstanding chest-work to guide in the first. There’s no questioning her form – always
incredible – and now she’s beginning to get used to the dinosaurs in front of her. Looks solid (cough…) and exudes a quiet calm with her impressive development (cough, cough…) We might have a new star on our hands, which would be a diamond in the dung of this cursed campaign.
BROON – 7/10 – Calm doon, Broon. Essential in the first-half to the urgency of our forward movement – unusual, because that’s Calmac’s remit. But there was Broon zipping the ball first-touch, prompting our domination.
CALMAC – 5.5/10 – Wherefore art thou Calmaceo? Too quiet for a man of his ability; been a long season as he
stutters to find his groove. Still a smashing soccer player but we’re used to more telling involvement than the fleeting glimpses we’re getting.
ROGIC – 7/10 – Almost showboating in certain moments, flicks and back-heels lifting the crowd… Off their
couches. We were still, tho, awaiting the killer Oz to turn up and finish off the game in a whirling dust-devil of skill. And oh so close, denied by a wonder save. Fine match.
EDDIE TURNBULL – 6/10 – We’re getting used to his fluid danger, much like the necessity for any young woman on a night out with Griff. For a near Centurian, Eddie has all the guile of a youthful Rogic, without yet the lethal
payoff. Highlight was a marvellous playground ‘Heiders And Volleys’ selfie tee-up that nearly produced a wonderful half-volley ‘reaker’ – as the vernacular had it. But, worryingly, later he faded like Bob Ross’ last picture.
THE YETI – 5/10 – Mountain Devil, or Tasmanian Devil? Ran about like the latter searching their backline for Bugs Bunny. However, ultimately his impact was negligible and finally got the bullet from Elmer Fudd in the dugout.
FRENCH EDDY – 8/10 – Still handling the strange sensation of having other hooped jerseys around him amid
the opposition thicket. Movement and feet are a delight. One of those days it looked inevitable he’d bulge the net. And he did. ‘Cless.’
SUBS:
GRIFF – N/A – New questions raised over his fitness. Again. It’s up and down with Griff, and also in and out; which harks to the simple two-word advice of the expert physio brought in to condition him: “Stopshaggin'”.
DREXL – 6.5/10 – ‘Now, I know I’m pretty, but I ain’t as pretty as a couple of titties’ Yes you are, Drexl, and that clearance was redemption for the Hibs lapse; terrific awareness and action. Thank Ghod.
MAN OF – 6.5/10 – Duetting with Dusty Springfield’s ghost on a reboot of ‘What Have I Done To Deserve This?’.
Survived a solar plexus assualt from Chuck Norris disguised as Andy Cole, which incredibly DIDN’T see a red card. As a Scottish referee favoured an opponent. Against Celtic. Fancy that… His energy was instrumental in holding the lead. Mainly because he was the only midfielder still standing.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE – 6/10 – A better defender than Duffy. Terrific pirouette in his own six yard box to get a
foot on a perilous ball and whip it clear in injury time.
LENNONY – 6/10 – Last photo I saw of The Celtic Way was at night on Thursday. It was deserted, and dimly lit by
only one lamp-post. A shaft of light from an upper window in the stadium highlighted the only soul standing there – a silhouetted priest in a hat, carrying a briefcase. Well, I did warn Lennony that if he continued to hang around it wouldn’t be long before someone called in an exorcist.
Presumably, Lennony vomited on him and screamed at him to “Lick me! Lick me!” because there he was in the dugout again, bold as brass. Maybe if he’d crab-walked around the dressing room like messed-up man-spider earlier in the season the team might have shown more urgency. As it was, it appreared he’d managed to spook
them into early action today by pinning up a teamsheet with ‘Captain Howdy’ the only player name scrawled
across it in blood red.
When some of the Bhoys stopped crying – not you,Ryan – and thought only happy thoughts, it allowed them to carve out another win and prolong Lennony’s contentious possession of the Glorious Roman Throne. This was in spite of more peculiar second-period game-management as he reprised the ‘testimonial reshuffle’, with the match not dead.
So on he, and we, go once more, together into a twilight era none of us imagined we’d ever see again – where the truly demonic need only SIX wins to take our title, to despoil the Decade of Domination; a total low enough for the Zombies to count on just one of their mutant appendages.
Now, that’s real horror.
OVERALL – 6.5/10 – How to turn a comfortable 5 or 6 nil into a scrambled, screeching trauma of a finish that would make a xenomorph weep. An entire mindscrew of a season in one swashbuckling, bewildering, admirable, and perplexing game of juxtaposition and incomprehensible contrasts. What I’m trying to reach for there is, basically, “Heaven’s sake.” (Well, you know don’t you that Sandman didn’t really say Heaven’s?) Anyway, a win’s a win. If only we’d stuck to that simple mantra some months ago…
As an aside, it’s become known that top celebrity Celt, Dominik Diamond occasionally reads this whimsy.
Acolyte of the “GAMESMASTUR!”, one of the 90s greatest TV experiments; that’s ‘TeleVision’, not the Bruce Jenner thing.
I thank him for his interest. As you may know, or not, referencing Dominik around Zombies of a certain age provokes pretty violently invective responses – I’ve greatly amused myself in the pub a couple of times watching them break from civil conversation into growling apoplexy by slipping his name into any mention of celebrity Celts, usually if Rod Stewart pops up on screen. Try it. You’ve got to hand it to a guy with such a lasting effect.
Dominik, as far as I know, departed these shores in a valiant attempt to escape the unsophisticated horrors in XXXLarge slaver-empire blue. He’s ensconced in the wilds of Canada now, somewhere deep in the Grizzly Maze,
his only companion the skeletal remains of Timothy Treadwell.
His legacy is an entertaining Celtic book which I’d encourage you to buy and try – even if only for the reason that it’s spring soon and Dominik needs the cash to buy ammo…
Go Away Now
Sandman
