SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v THE NEELIES
“‘Tis but a scratch! Just a flesh wound!” – Calum McGregor in Monty Python and the Holy Grail
“His name is Reo and he dances round the Dunns…” – Duran Duran, ‘Reo’.
ROXIE – 7.5/10 – Big beautiful bouffanted babe shall let none pass. Risked fracturing comb-over in a pivotal moment in the game but threw himself at the feet of Arseface without a second thought. Tremendous anticipation. Safer hands than Jesus.
GREGGS THE BAKER – 7.5/10 – At it like an angry Dachshund bearing a Bonio grudge, snarled and snapped his way through a great 90 minutes. Never gave an inch, or respect, to a single zombie who tried to noise him up. Maybe his best match in the Hoops.
GET CARTER – 8/10 – A big mhan with a rueful grin after it was all over; loved every minute of his baptism into proper football atmosphere and not the rent-a-fud EPL chorus lines. Our bouncer sorted out the gatecrashers in dubious gilded turquoise blouses, chewed up and spat out their aerial threats. A rock.
STAR LORD – 7/10 – Crazy mother (you know the rest). Dishing it out, playing on his – and our – nerves, drowning the crowd with the voices in his heid rapping encouragement. Kept all on tenterhooks every tweaked pass, sideways and narrow, but he got there when required and took the pressure situations well. Only his own worst enemy when the multiple personalities hush and he thinks too much – frazzed-out mid second half and gave the Uglies encouragement. However, it was but a blip on the Star Lord command console tonight. Give him a vial of laudanum and tuck him in.
JURAN JURAN – 8/10 – Relished the occasion, ferocious in his application, displayed a touch of creative class and skill despite the responsibility of shackling The Borg’s best attacking option. And he all but played the collaborating Kamp Kapo out of the game during the moments that counted. Left the hillbilly redneck jakey wishing he’d flung his duelling banjo into the back of his pickup and headed south with the Slippy G escape
convoy.
CALMAC OF THE OPERA – 9/10 MOTM – It took me 85 minutes to guess who it was. A shocking
revelation, because if it was any of us who’d been sledgehammered in the gub like Rocky Balboa, then ten
days later I’d still be convalescing, laid on a bed of Egyptian silk, surrounded by fragrant incense with a nubile masseuse (topless, minimum) attending to me with a scented ostrich feather.
But not our skipper. No way, Hose. Broken heid and still up for facing the most hideous eleven in world
football. And what a game he had. Hardly put a foot wrong despite taking a nothing yellow from the baldy Neely with the whistle (another amazing neutral appointment…).
With more of his brain missing than JFK, Calmac still drove the side on the ENTIRE game, maintained the tempo
like an atomic gyroscope with legs. Incredible shift from an incredible Celt.
HAKUNA HATATE – 8.5/10 – “Ha-ha-ha, we’ve *signed Arran Ramsbottom!” Ha-ha-ha Haaaatate! Not only do the Japanese innovate, they also honour – tonight both Naka and Lubo got an Eastern star’s tribute in one opportune moment of guile and beauty, ironically swerving it past the same tangerine-tinted slavering beast that Naka surprised all those years ago, and celebrating like the Skelping Slovak himself in his derby debut.
I said Saturday that we somehow failed to connect with Reo and he spent a quiet afternoon foraging earnestly but fruitlessly. Not so tonight. Not with Calmac back in. They fused, Reo playing Robin to the masked Batman pulling the strings. Before he shot his own bolt, he’d already put two killer bolts in the mutants’ skulls and clipped in a cross for the third as the slaughterhouse ramped up production.
Quite an awesome display of big-moment contribution. We now know we’ve got an exciting baller on our hands.
Arigato Hiro!
*borrowed from hospital
THE BUILDER – 8/10 – ‘The Architect’ more like. What a composed young man. Borrowed the cultured boots of Oz for this one, completely unfazed by the bedlamites in 80s aerobics class dayglo-blue. Bust a gut off the ball and elicited swells of appreciation when he was on it. Almost capped his night with a swerving free-kick only to be foiled by the stretching claw of the peach-clad degenerate jizz-despenser in nets. Gentlemen, and ladies, we have another transfer market diamond from Ange.
ABADASS – 7.5/10 – There it is, after a period of struggle, all coming together – the kid’s runs and final balls, and that little extra he packs into his game – the finishing. And what perfect execution it was, outside-foot half-volley,
angling it beyond the groping hand of the giant priapic carrot between their sticks. Just a stranger in a strange land playing against (really) strange opponents and he must now be buzzing at what he signed up for. We’re getting value for money in excess here and he’s going to get even better with age and experience.
NOTEBOOK – 7/10 – A surprise – a pretty low-key night as far as his big-game record to date; still full of verve but maybe too hyped-up for it – touch let him down, not quite floating past opponents like we know he can. Still played a big part in making them cry like spanked brats however, nearly scored a scorcher, only spurned by the walking beast register’s great save. He just couldn’t find the right song on the night, encapsulated by his big chance on the break near the end when he muddled the ball between his feet and failed to bear down on goal. Never mind, proper Skelping to come.
SON OF JACKIE – 7/10 – Well, we now have a striker capable of going toe-to-toe with their laboratory experiments at centre back. Jackie hustled and battered and ground them down. Would have scored as well, maybe a hat-trick, but was denied by the fortune, luck and flair of the cantaloupe condom that kept getting in the way. I still reckon he’s 75% as fit as he can be, and to our requirements. Bodes well if he knuckles down.
SUBS:
LORD KATSUMOTO – 6/10 – Ryan Air overnight all the way from Tokyo just to perform the thankless task of harassing the covid cup holders while the Bhoys wound it down. Which he did without question and limitless energy. Respect. Arigatōgozaimasu.
JAMESY – 6.5/10 – Got right stuck into them, did Jamesy – fearless in flight and tough in the tackle. Jamesy? Yes, in the thick of it with big Bassa and Haribo Chews. Tackle, indeed, and not even the kind he usually needs to tuck away quick…
McCARTHYISM – 6/10 – Get on there and do what you do… Like before. And he did, just fine.
MAN OF.. – N/A – Cunningly thrown in late to draw the inevitable online racism from the inevitable racists wrapped in Union Jacks.
WEE BOAK – N/A – Came on, slapped a goat, got booked by another. Wee mhan made his mark like a boss.
ANITA DOBSON – 9/10 – They’re not laughing at Big Ange now, the hacks and whacks of the SMSM; Angeball reams the lauded Dutch dillgence of Groinio Transit-Van Bungleheist. He demanded the players focus and run the drills and stick to the gameplan and move and pass and create and, finally, pump the Covidites. Instructions carried out to the letter. Every player he picked playing their role as given. 9 of the starting 11 Ange’s new bhoys.
What a work in progress, and he’s not done yet!
MIBBERY – 3/10 – Well, he tried with an early nonsense Calmac name-taking. but, alas… Dear Ghod, the humanity – almost overwhelmed me late on to see Boaby Madd’un choking back the tears as he carded Tavpen. The ultimate emotionally crippling act of the Salmon Leap’s most famous Bear: booking the Covid Captain amid a Celtic Park savaging. Laughing My Flaming Arse Off.
OVERALL – 9/10 – Nine. What the score could have been but for the vacant-brained ginger-hued beast-wing-certainty producing his usual Celtic-defying sorcery. Would you have taken a draw before kick-off? Maybe, given circumstances with the squad, our shaky recent results and the consequences of a loss. Best to face them at full strength, no?
LOL, how’d that work out for us? No Koyogo, no Oz, Daizen still smelling of cute aircrew, Calmac appearing out of misty sewers on a gondola, Notebook still tuning back up, Eddie Turnbull back in the care home and Reo ‘not fully fit yet’ according to Ange. And we ran over them like a Derby winner over a suffragette. Are you reading this, lurkers? Don’t stand in the way of the thoroughbreds. Looks like you’re Donald ducked . And will be again. Soon.
So if you were an Angeball skeptic, here was the test you ruminated on – up against Scotland’s ‘invincible’ (stop sniggering at the back!) SPL Covid Chumpions, Empty Hoose Season 20-21.
The first-half was an evisceration, football versus hoofball, Bhoys versus boys, desire versus ‘dignity’… Celtic made them look static, cumbersome and hysterically neurotic all at once. After the break it was all a bit of a laugh as they scrambled to save pride and the Hoops scrambled eggs in anticipation of re-energising to take on their Lanarkshire cousins at the weekend.
So dreams do come true. Sometimes great dreams. And sometimes greater dreams – like these Bhoys have, of being Champions and Champions League players. And we’ll be loving it every kick of a ball as the clock counts down to glory. Sayonara, mother (you know the rest), enjoy the marvellous vibes. There’s a buzz about the place…
Go Away Now
Sandman
