Sandman’s Definitive Ratings – Celtic at Beelzebub’s Cradle

SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ BEELZEBUB’S CRADLE…

“Wim Jansen is one of only four men in the world worth listening to
when they talk about football” -Johan Cruyff

ROXIE – 7/10 – Hardly a crucial stop to make but presence in these fiery occasions is everything. Favourite movie – Ice Cold In Alex; steely nerves as the pen spins back across our goalmouth and we wince in existential
horror knowing it’s going to hit the keeper and go in like they always do and, well… Roxie watches with an action hero’s knowing smirk, edges out the way. The ghost of John Mills toasts approval.

GREGGS THE BAKER – 6.5/10 – As aggressive as a newly cooked steak bake on the tongue. On his game and on his high horse; dishing out retribution. A fine busy night, slightly careless but overall competent under pressure.

STAR LORD – 7/10 – Pulled out the old Shelby shotgun to make a goal-saving clearance as we buckled. Also, frazzled-out at the screaming racoon in his heid and threw in a couple of mystifying blunders with the game balanced on the razor’s edge… Wouldn’t be Star Lord if we didn’t get him playing both Scooby Doo and the masked fairground villain in the same game. Last night he impressed more than stressed with the combative way he dealt with physical tussles as they threw in 372 corners and crosses in search of an equaliser; stood up to the siege well.

GET CARTER – 7.5/10 – Big man growling in yer face – niggly Devlin’s nightmares for the next week as Get Carter rounded on him after his attempt to hump Notebook. We needed a big Mhan tonight and we got one when the gameplanfolded and the last half hour became a survival exercise. He marshalled the defence well.

JURAN JURAN – 6.5/10 – Pleasingly, another aggro merchant emerges. Enjoyed being in the thick of it, took no nonsense and not afraid to dish out some Balkan justice. Heavily involved as his inverted full-back role aided a makeshift midfield and allowed him to burst forward in support. Denied a belter of a goal – and a match-killer – by former Celtic shot-stopping marvel Craig Gordon; which also cost me £100, the lanky stick.

BLOCKCHAIN – 7.5/10 MOTM – Captain. Of Mossad’s death-commando squad, and tonight Celtic. Right in among it, you could tell he wanted three points to go with the armband. Ended up tightrope-walking as Beaton played the NSGWP card and pinned a ridiculous, sinister yellow on him. But the long tall salamander wasn’t having the ride’s conniving and refused to tone down the vibe; led his troops to the bitter end with a snarl and a match-winning focus when the battlefield was littered with tired and wounded. A captain’s performance, absolutely.

HAKUNA HATATE – 7/10 – They don’t like white jackets and caps in Japan. And the guy behind the goal looking like a hated Korean K-Pop ponce almost paid the price. Luckily for him the goal nets averted Reo’s murder attempt; a strike of such pace they now call him REO Speedwagon, travelling at a velocity beyond light-speed which had CG wondering where the draught had sprung from as he arrived a day later in the space it once occupied. Before workrate bust his energy reserves, Reo’s mercurial talent was on show, pinging passes and seeing the spaces; pure footballing instinct. Protect this new signing from injury through just one more game, please…

THE BUILDER – 7/10 – Basil Fawlty doesn’t rate him and thank God there’s no renovation work required in the Celtic Park stands. Tonight was O’Riley’s big chance to show he’s got what it takes to wear the Hoops and
before he hobbled off to block up another restaurant he’d given Ange a lot to think about. As debut’s go, this was a baptism of fury. Intensity like he’s never known in the genteel English lower leagues, surroundings
like he’s never known outside childhood night-terrors, and demands upon him like he’s never known outside groupie-skank threesomes. And he’ll get plenty of them in Glasgow now that Griff’s departed…

But he was excellent, able to play deft passes and fit the Angeball model like he’d grown up with it. Bodes very well for the shape of things to come. Just don’t ask him to put up an extension.

JAMESY – 6.5/10 – One of those nights where Jamesy looked right in the mood but the crowd lacked the aesthetic appeal to arouse him enough for a truly memorable performance. Football-wise, he was but one final ball or strike away from being the terrorising Jamesy we know well. But he was in there to the death, and more game-time equals more classic Jamesy delights on the way. Ladies…

NOTEBOOK – 7/10 – Looking somehow older and meaner thanks to the Beckham hairband – possibly the first player in history to look less camp. He was so lively and buzzing tonight it looked like he’d blitz Hearts away all on his own. But for CG – again – we’d have been out of sight and he’d have been MOTM. But he’s back, and bangin’, and next week looms…

SON OF JACKIE – 7/10 – The big guy looks like he gets it, finally. Revelling in his winning strike – the football version of a Cheeky Vimto – and fighting for the cause. Not to mention a nice line in antagonism as he battled
Nae-Soap Souttar, the Ibrox latest half-formed uglybugly, still gestating a complete human face in the John Hurt Surrogacy Programme before he bursts out of its guts in the summer to join the other xenomorphs(and xenophobics…) in the Mordor Freak Circus. Big Jackie will have the chance to eclipse his Dad as a Skelper next week and if he can maintain this level of competitive commitment, we’ll have the first useful big battering ram of a striker since JVoH.

SUBS:

ABADASS – 6/10 – Playing with intent now, rather than hope. Got stuck into a roughhouse period in the game with vigour. Good stuff, kid.

MCCARTHYISM – N/A – Smacked a few clearances well away from our box with no hesitation in his brief appearance. That’ll do fine.

MAN OF – N/A – Take. Ball. To. the. Corner.

ANITA DOBSON – 8/10 – It was Australia Day, celebrating surf, barbecues and the chance at any moment to be killed in your own back yard by any number of horrific mega-poisonous critters that have been inbreeding for millenia just to mutate enough to end human life with a glance. Australia; a place for madmen and Mad Max. And we have our own Road Warrior in Ange – Japan to Glasgow, and tonight invited to a party at the gore-filled home of whiny serial-killer-turned-football-manager, Dennis Nilsen.

Angeball is the plan and regardless of personnel he expects it implemented. He got enough of it to win the game twice over, yet scraped over the line. It’s cited as an energy-sapper but the narrow results are a false-flag when the majority of the game is producing clear-cut opportunities to canter home. Someday soon the tactics will produce the dominant outcome they deserve. I fancy next Wednesday for that joy.

MIBBERY – 7/10 – Ooh, so close, John. And what about your linesbian? Special mention there for reviewing our second at HT and deciding it was narrow enough an unproven call to let them get one so clear-cut offside it
was like they were playing a netball shooter up front.

Yet three Celts went in the book for good measure and no reason and he’s not taking the blame for the totem pole that cursed the penalty. Yes, no pen, no goat, as they whisper in the masonic clubs’ darkrooms and John did his bit last night as the merciless universe threw up a wacky double-handball. He eventually signalled with his arm but part of him was already pointing at the spot…

OVERALL – 7.5/10 – Who would have imagined that a cup trip to a ramshackle hinterland would prove so costly to the crucial title challenge? A skipper out until the Easter Bunny’s served up as a starter, with the type of injury only Davie Dodds craved through his playing career in the hope of a plastic surgery makeover freebie on the accident insurance.

So, no conductor = no orchestra in synch? Didn’t look too much of a problem as we flew around like footballing dervishes first-half, all but taking the game beyond them. But after the break as energies sagged we lost rhythm and tempo and looked forlornly at the bench for the heartbeat of the team. He was there but nobody had a Mandalorian helmet for him to wear and get on the park safely. So the chosen Bhoys dug deep, rode their luck, stood resilient and focussed, and saw off the drug-fuelled gadgies’ surge for an undeserved leveller.

A precious three points for an unfamiliar line-up, and some galvanising aggro to get the lads backing each other up. Don’t underestimate the value of winning with a scrap and a snarl like last night turned out. Adversity maketh champions if you’re made of the right stuff.

WIM JANSEN – 10/10 –..Dedicated to Wim Jansen, the greatest one-season stand Celtic ever had. Inherited a depleted squad of comparitive ordinariness, added a Ghod and some archangels and in spite of the obfuscation of a board indifferent to on-field success and the rabid, pitiful corruption and cheating at its zenith in the slimebowl across the city, Wim somehow won the title and stopped their darkest triumph in its tracks, the tainted ten.

Quite miraculous, really. Gave us Henrik and the greatest day of my Celtic life. What a wonderful, unassuming little legend Wim is.

I think of him every time an episode of Mrs.Brown’s Boys is on; a show which is secretly one long tribute to the wee genius, because (FACT) each and every script contains/is an anagram of:

“The little Dutchman, Wimthetim, stopped the ten and got it right up a million rancids who wept like banshees on the 9th May 1998. Flecked them all. Right off.”