“Yas, well, on this Valentine’s day I like to, you know, get romantic and sentimental. It was a very special relationship, and like many special relationships, once I’d pumped them senseless I got bored and moved on to something less ugly and obnoxious.”
Googly-eyed Celtic super-agent Craig Whyte on celebrating Administration Day.
“Another night in Glasgow town,
it’s time to burn this disco down
This higher place, the Parkhead ground
You’ve heard the Celts, how do you like us now?
Another night, in Glasgow town
It’s time the Celtic took you down.”
‘Disco-Lights Down’ by Shed 67
“A candy-colored clown they call the Sandman
Tiptoes to my room every night
Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper:
“Go to sleep, everything is alright”.
How can it be? The Celts got horsed!”
Roy Orbison
BANE – 7/10
‘BATS! BATS!’ he screamed. Of course. It had to happen. The Valencia badge sports a giant BAT. Faced with the symbol of his nemesis time and time again, Bane was driven mad with torment. And his concentration broke.
He breathtakingly clawed one out the top corner in fine style but that slick passing of his was suddenly under pressure and his SPL comfort-zone evaporated.
Our sticky-gloved supervillain raged against the tides of bat-bearing Valencia players, whom he visioned as the Dark Knight’s henchmen, but their persistence was irresistible. To lose his first goal of the year was inevitable. He had little chance with the second either. His impeccable 2019 record obliterated by bats. How could the manager not have forseen such an obvious weakness? Rodgers out…
TOEJAM – 6/10
Welcome to reality. You may now drop your Scoddish fitba’ goggles and be hit with a concrete slab. The German all-rounder was set in a spin as play flurried around him and his attacking notions were stifled. Had he been Mick Lustig the experts would be all over him, telling us he was finished. Will feel like his smoothie was spiked after hearing somebody in the front seats holler ‘Get the fckin finger oot, you!” in German…
IZZY – 4/10
Played with a broken ankle but that was no problem to someone who spends his waking hours chewing on hallucenogenic frogs from the Honduran jungles. Kept a couple down his shorts for good measure and to spook
his opoponents. Didn’t work.
WTF? was Izzy’s expression throughout, mirrored in the stands at his contributions. What we did find out is that Izzy is probably finished at European level. He tried but he toiled, selling the first with a criminal offside claim which also involved losing the scorer; he didn’t read the centre-backs’ step-up, which is his job.
Later on, somehow remained on the park when a merciful execution at the hands of WW1 tommy firing-squad replacement Johnny Hayes would have been the appropriate option.
BOYATA – 6/10
‘He only stayed for the disco!’ was the cry. Tremors of a Dedryck-quake induced anxiety on occassion but he remained focussed, aside from the first goal shambles when he may have shared some culpability with Izzy on timing the step-up.
Peculiar attitude when galloping alongside Cherrybomb the Russkie as he set up their second- Dedryck spent half the chase looking across at the opposite linesman instead of getting close to block a cross or shuttle him towards the line.
JOZO – 7/10
That crucial opener. Looked like he was controlling the line, didn’t have everyone in sync. But not a lot he can do other than time it and move out, and he all but did that perfectly; on his own part. Otherwise big Ivan Denisovich looked accomplished up against a slick side and never flustered; if one can ever get flustered after having to make a single crust of bread last for three weeks at -30 in a Siberian Gulag.
Still our best natural defender – many examples tonight of his great positional sense and anticipation. Sadly, his
contribution was overwhelmed by a collective failure.
BROON – 6.5/10
Wailing from the stands as Broony spent five minutes in the first half reprising the Peter Kay commercials.
‘Ave it!’ he joked, slashing the ball into touch, sending Bane clawing for breath in his supervillian mask with a hospital backpass, popping an aimless dink over Izzy’s head.
But that was it. He regained composure and pretty much everything else he did held Celtic together while those around him struggled. You see, Broon, like our centre-backs (more below) is not there to be seen on the ball, drawing the antipathy of the clueless, the abuse from the ignorant – he’s meant to be there to break-up play, dolly it to the creatives, call some shots, drive the team on.
When Broon’s on the ball so much in such a big game, there’s something functionally wrong with the
team as a whole. When he’s drawing the ire, there’s others with no irons in the fire (cue stage-right the celebratory rhyming midget, ‘Da-daaaaa…’).
CALMAC – 5.5/10
Officially the hardest working footballer in the world, having played more minutes this season than anyone else, including Chic McGlinty the Drummie Junkie FIFA champion and the late appeal from Leigh Griffiths for ‘burd hours’ to count.
Tonight he played about fifteen minutes, looked lively and dangerous then caught the team virus and started doing stupid things in dangerous areas, culminating with giving away the ball for their counter and first goal.
We never got him on the ball enough with the right space to work in once they adjusted and shut us down beyond our first quarter-hour flurry. Calmac also failed to realise that and continued to chase up blind alleys after…
CHRISTIE – 3.5/10
..Who was like watching Foghorn Leghorn on viagra try to batter his way into the henhouse via a door that had been drawn onto the outside by Bugs Bunny.
Superb drilling by Valencia completely nullified his game. Their two deep-lying midfielders put up such an effective shield in front of their back four that even Hawking would have struggled to find the formula to unlock
space; Hell, even Griffiths couldn’t penetrate that.
Young Corpus looked bewildered and frustrated, forced to relay wing-to-wing, hoping forlornly rather than knwoing he might find an opportunity. Ran about like Princess Di in a minefield, looking pretty but ineffective and you knew there was only disaster ahead.
He just wasn’t the right player to effect any joy against their system.
Really, professor obvious?
Aye…
FORREST – 5/10
Our out-ball. Should have performed the Euro-role of the great Samaras. Did not. Played in flashes, much as like during his leisure time (Ladies…). When he did find joy – maybe could have won an early penalty? – he flopped his lines; awful final ball on a number of occassions after good wing-play. Jamesy was indicative of the team’s night; off-key.
SINCY – 7.5/10
Well, let’s hope he was being saved for Sunday. Definitely our most lively and dangerous player. Some rabble-rousing play in the first-half and looking Tim most likely to do them damage at any moment in possession.
Then… offski mid second-half. Eh, Brendan? Even the Valencia right-back, Piccini could be seen mouthing the Scottish he’d learned last summer in anticipation of the failed move to Celtic; ‘Whit?’ he gasped as Sonic shrunk from view.
BURKE – 5/10
He might be learning to pay lone striker effectively against SPL cannon-fodder but that’s with us pressuring and them playing deep. A different story up against a quality side pushing onto us and wrapping him up tightly despite his perpetual roaming. No idea how to play that role when we are on the back-foot for a change.
Offered no freedom and unable to manufacture any. Needed a strike partner and perhaps best advised to hold his ground more and offer them a physical object to cope with. Garay – who sounds like a slow-reading shoplifter from Birmingham – had his number at every turn or run into channels. Fruitless endeavour all night.
SUBS –
TIMO – 6/10
His Dad’s president of a library so he’s clever. Dropping the climax of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone
– right at the bit as well when Voldemort starts giving speccy some big sticks – Timo took his wizarding excitement from the bench onto the park and helped liven up our chances of a comeback. however, even he was afflicted by some kind of collective spell inducing hapless touches at the vital moments. Gave us hope, then yanked back the rope, just like…
FRENCH EDDY – 6/10
Introduced too late and arrived with an impact. Slaloming like Tiger Wood’s ex-skier burd he almost – almost – set up one and hinted at general mayhem if we could feed him enough. We didn’t, as our tired midfield strived to maintain momentum.
BR – 6/10
Looked like he had it right, then didn’t make necessary alterations to pattern or formation that could get us into the game. Worryingly, never recognised Burke’s lonesome furrow up front or asked the bhoys to get more direct and play beyond their midfield lines.
Even with Timo and Eddy thrown on – mystifyingly subbing Sincy – he still asked us to play in front of them with only one man up front down the middle. We never had their defenders turning all night, not once.
There’s nothing wrong with playing a big fella and looking for a knock-down to a strike partner occasionally, Brendan. But he’s still the boss and still heading for a triple rebel treble and the TEN, so strike Europe off for the season, and more power to him.
OVERALL – 5/10
Up against a team who sound really cool in English but will get you ridiculed at school for having a speech defect when you attempt the definitive Spanish pronunciation, our players at first showed no signs of linguistic perplexity; Maybe because they’re too thick – footballers y’know… – or more likely because they’re HIIGHLY FOCUSSED PROFESSIONAL ATHLETES, Sandman, jee-sus…
Anyway, they continue to astound when they click together. However, not tonight. The performance required was of Leipzig standard, which we opened with, but which soon faded to Livingston quality.
Our tempo dropped as Valencia adjusted to a more aggressive poise after the first fifteen minutes and pressed us relentlessly. They seemed to take the opening flurry on the chin then strode into the fight – that upset our players who were settling into their SPL comfortably-dominant frame of mind. Suddenly the doors were shut and the bouncers were pushing us about.
We found no answer. No quick movement and passing around them, no getting behind them down the wings, no direct balls into the centre-forward with runners looking for scraps. We continued to play the game where they wanted us, forcing us back deeper in possession, setting traps to catch our mistakes, take the ball and kill us on the counter. They executed that very well, we did nothing but pet our lips and moan. We lacked application and sharpness of thought and movement. Our basic passing game was off-key.
Less harshly, more metaphysically, we certainly did not get the break of the ball, nor the indulgence of a fussy and irritating referee who called the game with all the charisma of an einsatzgruppen SS kommander organising an ‘aktion’; one Romanian that must mourn Ceaușescu.
Celtic By Numbers will have the facts I’ll be interested to validate my opinions on – that one sure sign of a poor Celtic performance, in Europe especially, is when our centre-backs have most touches/possession.
Far too many touches of the ball tonight for Dedryck and Jozo just signals, for me, an insipid overall display, marked by low tempo and few forward thrusts. We need our creatives on the ball most often, building play, not
our stoppers.
However, this glamour freebie was always one (and two, considering the second-leg) I wanted out the way with no deepening injury crisis. So far, so meh.
Now let the Killie killing kommence. See what I did there, fans of grammatically incorrect alliteration?
Sandman done.
Also on The Celtic Star…
‘A totally sub-standard performance from Celtic in Europe – again,’ David Potter
Disco Lights and a CEO Bonus but where’s the investment in the team?
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