SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ BROWN SUGAR BOYS…
“Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a flaming big television. Choose a pumping from the Hoops to watch on it.” – Mark Renton, Hibs nutritionist.
ROXIE – 6.5/10 – What’s that? A post? Clunk went the ball and Joe woke up. The only time his goal was breached, so to speak; around it he kept on his toes – particularly the first 20 minutes – working well in tandem with his defence as they came in close with some dangerous balls; always a sign of good communication.
GREGGS THE BAKER – 6.5/10 – A bit of a sticky start had Greggs slack with forward balls and getting turned on his heels as they got in behind him. But like a good Steak Bake, there was meat in the middle and once he’d dusted off the pastry flakes he bit into his given role with as much consistency as ever; capped his comeback
with a delightful ball inside the fullback to put Daizen through for the penalty award.
STAR LORD – 8/10 – Just the type of game we needed at just the right time. From the first minute Star Lord was the lynchpin at the back, picking off every dangerous ball, throwing in some excellent interceptions as Hibs got gallus. Roared on by a screeching rodent lurking somewhere behind the ballboy in front of the Hibs casuals, he produced his best game of the season to contain them, defy them, then set up the victory.
GET CARTER – 7/10 – An exemplary night for CCV – robust and sharp and very precise with his passing out from deep. May have erred only once when Nisbet escaped him to miss badly, but thereafter he bossed it and not even the late introduction of Johnny Rotten could faze him.
HAKUNA HATATE – 7/10 – I am back of the right once more. Tonight I will be on toast for one quarter of the contest before asserting my honour and bringing domination to my wing. Ultimately, I will display football purity and with the delicacy of origami fingers will slide a pass to my countryman, Kyogo San, of such exquisite nature that the move will be enshrined and celebrated down the ages in Shadow Art by Kumi Yamashita. Arigato. Yakshemash.
CALMAC – 6.5/10 – For once, the slippers were on early. Not that he didn’t produce his own magic moments – the superb tackle/pickpocketing of two Hibees to win the ball for Reo to set up Kyogo – but Calmac actually didn’t need to hit third gear as Mooey did his job and more for him. Nice rest for the skipper before the sash
bashing next week.
THE BUILDER – 6/10 – His run of sub-par performances continues but this one grew more promising as the night wore on and he imposed himself on the game. Could have ended his scoring drought but for a fine
stop, however, his role was as supporting cast for the main man in the middle.
MOOEY – 9/10 – What’s happened? Quiet and unassuming Mooey turns swashbuckling lothario, heating up the night with downright filthy quality – like a ladies’ favourite ‘Hub performer; basically, he was Jonny Sins with boots on. Not only did he take control of the game, but sealed the points with a double, announcing himself as penalty-taker while we’re at it. A midfield masterclass from the Qatar paladin.
ABADASS – 5.5/10 – A lot of buzzing, no sting to define his worth tonight. Credit his intensity but probably will
have more luck against Barisic come the 2nd. As per usual…
KILLER MUSHROOM – 7/10 – For all the wonders flourishing around him, Kyogo seemed pretty stifled by a compact Hibs defence. Then persistence beat resistance and he was away; another perfectly timed run, great first take and a composed finish and we saluted the lethal wee dynamo.
LORD KATSUMOTO – 8.5/10 – He doesn’t bother with the easy ones when there’s a World Cup special just round the corner. No sooner was his name cursed than exhalted as he lifted the roof with a schoolboy swerver, arcing it in like a Mitsubishi Zero sinking the Hibs tugboat. He remained a scintillating out-ball all evening, roasting the toiling full-back like a glass collector at Jamesy’s private Xmas bash. Allegedly.
SUBS –
SON OF JACKIE – N/A Rumbled on just to make man-baby Porteus cry. He did.
VALUE ADDED TAX – N/A – He’s what the Zombies won’t pay, and he’s now an Albanian legend like his pioneering Dad. Won’t be long before Ilir Meta’s commissioning a statue of the rangy kid with the Blackadder barnet.
NOTEBOOK – N/A – Pranced on like a cover of Color Climax to warm up for Monday’s S&M lesson.
JAMESY – 6/10 – A grizzly Jamesy huffed and puffed in the dank chill night sporting the look he calls ‘winter muff’. Was cruelly denied a beautifully cultivated goal by the fortunate thigh of a lunging Hibee with the very last Celtic kick of 2022.
DIEGO ARMANDO MARADONA – 6.5/10 – Obviously wee Diego’s been watching D10S Mk II in the World
Cup and we were treated to some silky slaloming footwork and exciting forward surges. Risky? Not when you’ve got that ability.
ANITA DOBSON – 8/10 – Big Ange doesn’t really tinker; he tweaks. The system is God, and once God woke up tonight then his quiet confidence in Angeball winning the day was vindicated. No panic, no worries as they had a square go – we don’t stop; managed to see out a comfortable win at a difficult ground – only 2 wins in our last 10 visits; yeah, I frowned at that too. Noice one, Ange, mayte.
MIBBERY – 2/10 – Sigh, poor Damien Dallas. Waiting for this all Christmas and the Celts take it away from him before he can press a red button in anger. Him and Alan Muir – who looks like he takes absentee names at a
Ludge meeting – just had no answer to the overwhelming force of nature that trounced their fantasies, like a tsunami wiping out a beach changing hut with a couple of peeping toms lurking in it.
OVERALL – 8/10 – Well, that was a doddle. Eventually. Ye of little faith would have been making the overtures to the deities as we began sluggish and Hibs vibrant. But this was a Dicken’s Xmas special ‘Tale Of Three Times’ – without the e. Starfelt, Mooy and Maeda; Two Baldies and a Tweaker. The Three Stooges emerging as a specialist spine of the unlikely, like some fantastic alternative A-Team from a parallel dimension blowing away the spoon-burners’ ambitions. A brilliant result to keep us well clear and able to clinch the title even before the first fat, kilted, phished-up cooncilor stabs a haggis.
So we roll over the city to rock up at the worst New Year party venue since Jurassic Park opened the raptor pen for bookings. They’ll be ready (‘Aye’…Ur yeez, Aye?), frothing like rabid baboons and falling spanking to the floor before the game’s even kicked-off. And that’ll just be the officials.
The Zombies will be all bravado and bulls-waste. But there’ll be a spike of terror in their chests behind every vomited incomprehensible sentiment of hate, because they know if the Celtic turn up and turn it on, that spike will be rammed through their black hearts QuickTime and in multiples. So go and get them Celtic, and have them slapping each other on the subway before Ange even thinks about a sub…
Dedicated to…
Big Craig Gordon. Shot-stopper supreme and still one of the rare Celtic players who was disliked by a dry few for ‘trying too hard’ against us once in his early Hearts days. I mean, fhs…Bizarre cogitation aside, the stoical fella took his admiration of the King Of Kings a step too far at the weekend and the tribute too literal. May this foundation of the Nine-in-a-row recover fully and get himself back to full health never mind playing ever again.
Any argument about his worth as a Celtic keeper can be evidenced in 5 simple seconds – watch the last-gasp stop with the strongest arm in football v Man City in the 3-3 CL game; Outstanding. And so too remains his vat of Zombie tears as he thwarted their festering ambitions time and time again. Get well soon, big guy.
Go Away Now
Sandman
