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Sandman’s Definitive Ratings – Celtic at Ninth Ring of Hell

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IMAGO / Shutterstock Photo by Luke Nickerson

SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ NINTH RING OF HELL…

“Eh, we pulled out ‘cos wee Gio’s worried a Kangaroo might mistake him for one of their weans and he’d end up in a pouch. Also, we’re double-booked for the shipyards in November too, sorry…” – TheRangers spokesman on yellow belly.

ROXIE – 8/10 – So pretty to yer average Zombie that they attempted crude proposals before the start of the second-half by tossing their version of diamonds at her – but Roxie knows a broken bottle of methadone when she sees one and their romantic advances were rebuked. Little chance with Aardvark Rammstein’s clipped
opener and strained nerves with his trademark insistence on passing along his own goal-line for yuks.

But the quality of this controversial signing – this over the hill ‘dud’ – was emphasised in a splendid match-winning save low down with a wrist like Superman’s knob to sicken the lovestruck subhuman degenerates right behind him.

GREGGS THE BAKER – 8/10 – He’ll have to quit. This performance was beyond everyday pastry, reaching for Parisian breakfast croissant levels. Full-on intensity, feverish commitment, controlled aggression in the face of unacceptable humanity. Not seen such a fine, rollocking left-back display at the Hate Pit since the days of Saint Danny. Take a bow.

STAR LORD – 8.5/10 – From Star Lord to War Lord. This was a fascinating triumvirate at play. After messing around early on like his rickets braces had been removed just prior to kick-off, inducing heart palpitations in the brave 700 and us, things changed in such an eclipse of the miracle of transubstantiation that – reputedly – the Pope leapt out his chair in the second-half, pointing at the screen and declaring, “Hoc est miraculum uckium!”

They had come together – Star Lord, Rocket Racoon, and Arthur Shelby; a holyfuck trinity merged in the meta, repelling every ugly barrage thrown into the box; making amends for every missed cross of his Celtic career by getting a touch on balls he’d no right to. Much like Morellos in the showers.  Crowned it all by setting up the winner with his Sutton-to-Gigantor-Larsson knock-down. A triumph for a much-maligned nice guy. Reborn a skelping wise guy.

GET CARTER – 9.5/10 MOTM – Who unleashed the Grizzly? Zombies ran screaming for the exits 10 minutes before they usually do – just after half-time… – as Carter stomped around their stinky backyard upturning the bins in blue, raking up scraps, whacking a few of them into oblivion with his big claws and sinking in his teeth for the big-bite winner. Defended like Cesar, snapped in the winner like Buzzbomb, strode around our box like some mythical Titan Before he left the park after a lung-busting run left him spent, and Carter covered his ass, Reo Hatate bowed and gasped, breathless, “Carter-San, you are Godzilla, they are Japan.”

JURAN JURAN – 7/10 – Perplexing best describes his day. Flaming raging after being suckered wide by the Kamp Kapo to set up their opener, credit where due that he shook it off an applied himself. Expected much, but sometimes things just don’t click and such was his game. However, we required – and did get – the constant industry and flashes of quality, defensively, to see us through.

CALMAC – 8.5/10 – THAT run will go down in the season’s lore as a defining moment. THAT run is everything you need to know about this skipper’s qualifications for the job. Team toiling, kicked in the baws in the second minute,
festering malevolence rocking the victorian lavvy to its foundations, it takes a brave, brave Celtic player  to gather, surge forward, shirk off bigger animals and set up an equaliser.

Game-changing, yes. Season-changing, most definitely – THE role-model example to his team that we do not stop, even in the darkest moments; that the light’s just a twinkle of his charmed boots away. After recent Mordor nightmares, this was a chance for redemption. And he took it with swashbuckling style, masked and relentless; V for Vengeance.

ROGIC – 9/10 – “‘Sake mayte, got to go walkabout in that cursed wasteland again, full of all ’em cannibals and goat-molesting’ savages?” So Oz watched Mad Max 2 last night to get him back up to speed on dealing with apocalyptic surroundings and homicidal maniacs. And it worked. Beautifully.

Amid the turmoil there were a pair of magical slippers – a bit like Dorothy’s but this Oz is a REAL wizard and the baffled Bears just couldn’t contain him; that is, when they could find him. He drifted, danced, and delighted. Might have finished them off had his finishing been better. But the one he struck was stroked in so casually and dripping with delicious contempt that it was worth double.

HAKUNA HATATE – 6/10 – Blowing out your backside, is a phrase he’s probably yet to learn. Unfortunately the madness of the match overwhelmed him at times and he couldn’t get the pace. Passing was off as nervous energy unsettled his composure and it was a learning day as he played passenger, mostly, amid the furore.

NOTEBOOK – 7/10 – Jinking, ducking, delving – an almost afternoon, not quite gilded with the sheen he’s capable of. Half-a-yard off causing mayhem a few times, never got truly free to do real damage. A ‘Ridgeley’ day to
forget, individually, but overall contribution to the Young Guns having some fun was worthy.

SON OF JACKIE 7.5/10 – Not only has he become the new Orc hate-figure, he also made sure he smashed a couple of Goons in front of the drooling trolls as well. If he’d scored, their lumpen heids might have exploded in a fantastic reboot of the movie ‘Scanners’. The ultimate ‘roon ye’. Yet Jackie ploughed a lone furrow well, rumbling around their twin pillars of ugliness, putting the boot in, emulating his Dad’s reputation with attrractive Vickie’s waitresses – being a flaming nuisance.

LORD KATSUMOTO – 8/10 – Honourable maniac. Has the energy levels of an ADD kid on a cocaine speedball released in a chicken coop. And he spooked the absolute blow-out of a few preening cocks in their defence.’Relentless’ doesn’t even cover it – he appears to operate in a different dimension; appears out of nowhere at hyper-speed to hustle or burst onto a pass; Could do the Kessel Run faster than the Millennium Falcon. Still, the skill sacrifice can be compensated for; he gives us a pressing dimension certainly not seen in this tainted fiefdom. Marvellous effort and commitment.

IMAGO / Shutterstock

SUBS:

THE BUILDER – N/A – He’s young. He’s handsome. He’s sensitive. They’re flaming horrendous, the sheer grotesqueness disturbed him and he had to be taken off quickly for sake of his sanity.

BLOCKCHAIN – 8/10 – A blade wrapped in satin, delivered on slippers of silk edged with razors. What a tempest to be thrown into. What a formidable, controlled display of skelping nous as Nir sealed up the middle, nicked off their interplay, shuttled possession as he became the pivot in our knackered middle, lording it, loving it.

TONY THE TIGER – 7/10 – “Dear Lord, please let us win in Hades the morra,” was Tony’s bedside prayer last night. “Only if ye come on and banjo a bar steward, my Son,” came the reply even before Tony was off his knees. And the chosen one did duly carry out the will of His Father.

ABADASS – 6.5/10 – TWICE the wee mhan had the title in his hands! Sclaffed the first, then incredibly thwarted by Son of Sutcliffe just back from pumping Will Smith’s wife. So close to further skelping glory, but in the end it didn’t matter.

ANITA DOBSON – 9/10 – Never stop. The Big Mhan’s shadow grows longer and wee Groinio is becoming lost in its cold reaches. Spared Koyogo the horrors, and we wondered if his methods would founder on the rocks of Skull Island. But what is there to say? He did it. His Bhoys did it. His style – his relentless style – triumphed, and reservations of practicality were swept aside even from a handicapped starting point.

‘Just go out and score more than those stinking fellas’ …Was the team talk (allegedly…) and the legend of Postecoglou grows legs, fires up the chainsaw and stands astride masses of twitching zombie corpses like Ash Williams in Army Of Darkness. He’s close now, so damn close. The fat Aussie joke is now the Zombie Antipodean Bogeyman about to stomp their diddy wee debt-ridden tribute act into oblivion. Again. LOL at that punchline.

MIBBERY – 5/10 – “Precious!” roared the Orcs. ‘Noooo… Not precious!’ slavered back Gollum, incredibly denying Ra Peepil their satan-given penalty after the ball struck Get Carter’s left gun. If he had been looking the other way, we might have been given the stonewaller when the Tangerine Debaucher scythed Maeda. Then he proceeded to book everyone except Gavin Strachan’s laptop in a petulant flurry late on.

OVERALL – 9/10 – So, confirmed: Borussia Dortmund – mince. Red Star – mince. Bodo Glimt – different class.

And our Bhoys – sparkling, stoic and relentless. Magnificent, actually, given the nature of the comeback. After buckle Rumsfelt scored I was going back to bed, but true to Ange’s philosophy I opened a Guinness and stuck with it, went again. By the fifth minute of injury time and can five, I was hoarse, fingernails shredded, eyes flooded with tears of joy and desperation. Now there’s a case of San Mig left over from Xmas that’s getting destroyed like Zombie delusions of adequacy. I’d have taken a draw, but no – they just had to go and win and do it in a manner that tested morale, guts, ability and spirit. Rope-a-doped them like Ali, ducking punches with the Zombies playing Michael Dokes.

And came out near-as-dammit champions. Bears napalmed once, one more to go. I love the smell of napalm on a Sunday morning. Smells like…Victory.

Go Away Now

Sandman

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About Author

The Celtic Star founder and editor David Faulds has edited numerous Celtic books over the past decade or so including several from Lisbon Lions, Willie Wallace, Tommy Gemmell and Jim Craig. Earliest Celtic memories include a win over East Fife at Celtic Park and the 4-1 League Cup loss to Partick Thistle as a 6 year old. Best game? Easy 4-2, 1979 when Ten Men Won the League. Email editor@thecelticstar.co.uk

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