Sandman’s Definitive Ratings – Celtic at Jock Tamson’s Bams

SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ JOCK TAMSON’S BAMS…

“Michael did really well for his first game. And he’ll do really well for his next first game, too…This is pitiful.
Thousands of people freezing their butts off waiting to worship a rat. What a hype. Groundhun Day used to mean
something in this town… From Ibroxsutawney, this is Phil Connors. So long.”

– Bill Murray, in ‘Groundhug Day’

ROXIE – 6.5/10 – Had more to do than his counterpart, which says a lot. And he did it well, pulling off one particularly sound stop as the alarms were beginning to ring.

GREGGS THE BAKER – 6/10 – Decent. Did you realise he went off-message, frustrated with the number of times he’d had to stop progress, drag it back? Smashed in the face – that’s called a red, MIBs… – and provided the pass of the day for Abadass to mess up. Inverted Angeball-style to try and spark something. Didn’t work but fair play for the mini-rebellion.

LAGERTHA – 5/10 – Welcome to Celtic. Welcome to a Celtic debut at Killie. Do you know Robbie Keane? Diomansy Kamara? Tony Mowbray? Nervy start, hung out to dry by his teammates, did grow stronger deeper into the match, ironically. Gets a pass for suppressing bewilderment and not heading back to Sweden on the first plane.

APOLLO CREED – 5/10 – No’ Rocky, but no’ bad. Handled their physical threats well enough. I’m not going to curse a centre-back for playmaking abilities when every time he looked up to play a pass, all he saw was stripes and no mobile Hoops.

TONY THE TIGER – 5/10 – Another pass, because the tiger provided the best crosses of the day amid unswerving commitment that many others might try to add to their game when the chips are too salty.

THE ALLFATHER – 3/10 – Who’s sitting down now, bitch? Football has a way of humbling you, kid, even if you’re the God of Gods. Tidy and sharp last week, lightweight and incapable this week. More flunky than Floki.

CALMAC – 3/10 – Captain, our captain, wherefore art thou? Buried in deep midfield. As with recent outings, our fulcrum and gyre is being bypassed in favour of optimistic direct balls to empty space. His lack of influence is startling. The stats on his passing and touches compared to the two previous campaigns must be as starkly distressing a comparison as between Elon Musk’s bank account and the Zombies. Celtic’s midfield founding father is being negated and starved in this revisionist Celtic movement.

THE BUILDER – 4/10 – Spent a lot of time throwing his hands in the air; almost as much as me. Did get a shot on target and showed the same promise early on as with his MOTM outings lately but, like Calmac, he drifted out of
involvement when needed most, his class ending up smothered by dogged Killie workies. However, taking off his goal threat as we trailed was questionable.

LORD KATSUMOTO – 4/10 – Dazien no likee. Plenty of zip, plenty of selfless running but even he appeared forlorn towards the end, that inscrutable facade projecting dejection at the aimless nature of our play.

KILLER MUSHROOM – 7/10 MOTM – Dropping deep into his own half to offer from a shy on the 73rd minute when we’re losing isn’t the preferred position for our main goal threat. But it is a sign of the times. As ever, Kyogo was
the bright light in the dimming firmament that used to be Celtic’s frenzied attack. Made and nearly executed our only shot on target, bringing also their keeper’s only save of note. If only we had a cunning plan to somehow utilise this wee dynamo’s goalscoring talent by providing some sort of service…

ABADASS – 2/10 – Make up yer mind, kiddo – inconsistency of performance setting in, no idea what we’ll get week to week. But too often, this; nada.

SUBS –

YING – 6/10 – Missed some chance; bit unlucky with the last-ditch defensive touch, but was a ray of hope with his dancing feet and attacking intent. Deserves a start.

EDDIE TURNBULL – N/A – Good idea, bring on the auld fella to shore up the middle and slow down the game to hang onto the narrow defeat.

HACKY SACK – 6/10 – Yes, stonewall. A Zombie classic injury time pen denied. At least Hacky was at it – more touches in their box in his brief cameo than the rest of the side put together.

THE SHNAKE – 2/10 – Brendanistas, be careful what you wish for. 2 years of revolutionary, dynamic, thrilling and incisive football dismantled in 2 months. Up we go, back we go, maintain possession, caution over bravery. Sideball. Too easy for players to fall into languid comfort zones, no figure of authority demanding work-rate and adherence to a system they can believe in. Just that nice fella who’s everybody’s pal and who’s got their backs, not on them. Not yet. Beware the Ides…

I get he wants to impose his own methods, but what are they? And why the culture change from a system that had Glasgow Celtic written all over it, to the sterile template we saw today that looked lifted from a mid-range EPL side. Why not build upon the system set in stone over the last two seasons and blend in your own ideas, enhance a buzzing winning squad with some steel and pace and ask them not to change, but to adapt…

All rhetorical, because we – the cursed naysayers who remained skeptical and off the Brendan bandwagon – foresaw it, and forewarned; without concession, this won’t end well… The ego has landed.

MIBBERY – 7/10 – He was offside; shoulders suddenly not counting; even drew the lines, ffs. Blatant. The elbow was cracked into Gregg’s heid; nothing to see here. Never mind that blood. And we don’t get stonewall penalties; not if they don’t like yer hairdo in the VAR portaloo. Scurrilous Bams. Priapic MIBs got the Sunday of their dreams. And we didn’t do much to prevent it.

OVERALL – 2/10 – Ah, Killie on a Sunday in the sun. 5-0, Jota screamer, big Jackie overhead, so much creativity, verve and dazzle. 365 days later…Tepid, witless football, one shot on target, bullied and hustled out of our stride by a battling team who wanted it more. The treble surrendered in the most depressing manner to many millions since General Lee gave up the South to Ulysses Grant. But at least they fought for it first.

Today stank of a dressing room empty of belief and full of doubt. The niggling reservations of the past two
unconvincing victories manifested in dire circumstances as rudderless, unfocussed Hoops fumbled around like Helen Keller searching for the tv control in a pair of mittens. A day blooming with promise after the English witches blew (no, Jamesy) the Kitchenette World Cup to the sizzling Senoritas, serves up a curveball at Killie.

The Angeball footprint is fading quick up here; now stamped firmly on the red faces of Man United dahn Norf Laandan…Our faces are simply long, as will the season be if this aberration was any sign of things to come.

Go Away Now

Sandman