Sandman’s Definitive Ratings – Celtic at Posh Swamp


“30 days hath September, April, June and November,
All the rest have 31,
Except February – which has 28 days clear,
And 29 on each Zombie-pumping year.”

Traditional mnemonic verse.

“Eeeeeeh, naaaaa. Like, ey, Ahve ad enoff ay de Hoons – done me job, screwed dem inte de grewnd. Time te get me Cellic season ticket bach…”

Slippy G.

“Ees no fair – I go Bogota, see big Mama ze tart-house boss, an I stay for a day too much pussee, an ze scouser, he say, ‘You bad boy, Alfie, fleck you’. An’ ze uglies, zey shout, ‘You no play for us no more, Alfie bassa!’ Hey, so I shrug – flock zem feelthee Hunts. I feenesh weeth those sons de beetches. God bless ze Papa an’ zeRa.”

Alfredo Morelos interview with Colombian TV.
(Subtitles possibly misinterpreted…)

THE WALL – 8/10

Da-Daaaa! Help, help, here comes The Wall! – Stevie May – or may not – have needed a change of kecks when he glanced up from his big chance to win the tie to see Godzilla surfacing at the edge of the box.

Superb anticipation by the Magnificent Monolith as he capped a day of good old fashioned bar-stewarding footie on a ploughed field with his sharpest moment. Stoutly defied their fleeting hopes both halves with some smart, no-nonsense goalkeeping straight out of the 70s playbook; when in doubt, play it out, or get it to utter fleck. Solid, marvellous, phew…

AJER – 7/10

‘Get the fleck up, Kris, ya dhick!’ cried Lennony in injury-time with concerned words of support and comfort as young Ironside lay hurting on the deck.

You don’t hail (hail!) from viking farming stock if you can’t take a beating from Scottish farmers. The kid didn’t back down – he relished the duels for the most with their 70s heavy-metal band roadie-cum-striker and the calamities and indecision which plagued him Thursday were cast aside.

Good timing in tackles, no-nonsense for the most part give an assault on big Clary as they broke forward late on, some very pivotal charges forward to break their press and open space.

BITTON – 8.5/10 MOTM

Mossad secret agent and walking Persil advert – impeccable kit-maintenance first-half amid a mud-wrestling tournament. Terrific timing, vision and for a big slim guy, he’s a force of sinew and bone mass; I imagine it must be like playing against a telegraph pole.

Comically booked on half-time for BEING fouled, he was not fazed. While his defensive cohorts were running into one another, Nir was an oasis of calm as the Posh Saints gave it a real go. Excellent presence of mind and example of composure.


I’ll give the big Franco Fancy this – he’s not afraid of going to war for the cause. Some hazardous moments at the back where he required more grit than Gaulish glam, he kept his head up and kept it together to drive us to victory. Played a major part in the winner. Or HIS winner? Or Ryan’s winner? Or did I score it? Maybe you? Who flaming cares!


On a Sunday, too… Easy morning shift, no pressure, but just can’t get it together in the afternoon. Misplaced
passes, skinned by a fiesty opponent, decision-making all over the place, half-drowned/smothered in the mud. Not his day, though he battled on and almost had a moment of flair to engulf the dreich with a back-heel in their box.

BROON – 7.5/10

What’s all the fuss aboot? Broon was BORN for games like this – a perfectly-pitched battle on a perfectly-pish pitch. Yet another display to belie his years. Loving the dogged engagement of opposition giving it their all. He was an 80s action-hero smashing his way through the swamp to the chopper. Nobody wants this treble like Broon. Nobody.

CALMAC – 7/10

Almost a game for him to get back to running the show. but the park had a hold of the ball and his boots.
Killer runs nearly rewarded first and second-half – one magnificent surging expedition from his own box to theirs was worthy of a Cheltenham Gold Cup winner. Still to regain his role as the metronome but Thursday’s
fruitless toil was dismissed to forge a vital win in an example of great mindset.


He might have scored the winner after an inconsistent game where his early passing and timing was not what we expect from the Son Of Man on a Sunday. Then he found a tempo to suit the give in the turf and
his movement synched well with the team; produced a raft of chances and was unlucky not to have scored before he/Jullien Clary/Me?/You! did. He’ll get better with more action; big test Wednesday as he returns to the scene of the season’s nightmare.

FORREST – 7.5/10

There’s only half of Jamesy left after a ‘challenge’ which also took out half the away support in the stand.
Luckily, it’s the bottom half… Ladies…Definitley not a red card, if you’re an ex-Ibrox-season-ticket-holder with a whistle, and a last-ditch chance at reflected glory in your eye when the Bhoys are in trouble in the mud…

Then we scored the winner form the free-kick,. Fnarr, Fnarr, Bobby…

On such a day and such a pitch you could have expected/forgiven our haphazardly-performing winger
to test the bathwater early, but Jamesy was sterling stuff today. He went at it with vigour and refused to let the agricultural approach of the Perth farmhands subdue his menace. Expect a fully-flying Flasher of Old Prestwick Town for the remainder of the season. He’s on it, girls…


GRIFF – 5/10

Poor Griff. Thrown back in, and rightfully so, then makes a rightful arse of it. Too much posing and not enough battle. Stupid clipped balls and dinks, nonsensical runs; never kept it simple enough to get himself involved. Even when presented with chances he was not anywhere near his instinctive best. Take note, Griff – instinctive doesn’t just mean for shaggin’ ; it means you just go out and don’t overthink it, do what comes
naturally. Nope, he’ll still think of shaggin’…


Wriggle me this, wriggle me that, Batman. Our French Knight missed his shots at glory today, by sheer bad luck for one almost-stunner. Otherwise, he proved he can fight his way through a stoical defence, all but leading the line single-handed again as Griff’s arse blew out. Magical moments evaded him at the last but he proved there’s a tough core to our 40 million dollar kid. There will also be be goals, many more goals. Soon.


ROGIC – 6.5/10

Now here’s a game suited to Big Oz… Not. Yet he somehow managed to employ those magical canoe feet with svelte moments of class at odds with conditions. If only we could get him fully fit and on-song; a vibrant Rogic added to this tiring squad is like being presented with a beautiful goblet of chilled Stella at a desert oasis after an epic trek, and then the barman asking if you’d like to take the first sip of foam off Scarlett Johansson’s right nipple.

HAYES – 6/10

A battlefeild, M’Lud? A pitch like Passchendaele? Throw on the time-hopping trooper to wallow in the mud like it was home sweet home. And we did, and he did. Perfect sub for browbeaten Greggsy; Jonny was your sure-bet to seal it up.


Becoming a favourite yuks for Lennony to produce the towering, troublesome angular marauder and throw him at worn defenders; who welcome his xenomrophic presence like the crew of the Nostromo.

LENNONY – 7.5/10

Well, it was the sort of game he relished. No-holds-barred cup-tie on a filthy day against filthy opponents on a filthy pitch. Good to see his experimental mentalness of Thursday was punched into oblivion by some pragmatic boxing clever; back to the 3-5-2 which has served us so well this year.

It ultimately came down to the team on the park replicating their manager’s fortitude when the going gets tough. However tenuously metaphysical the link at times, today was a Yuri Geller argument for the power of influence as a former battling player got a battling performance out of tired and disappointed players,
and an energising victory. Another game closer to immortality.

OVERALL – 7.5/10

So things did get as sticky as Spiderman’s last date but today the team retained shape and focus and prevailed in the heat of a firey encounter and conditions best suited to historic battle re-enactment societies.

Would have been a devastating one to lose after pinning them in and somehow contriving not to score a hatful of chances reconstructed from the Morelos-can’t-miss-this-one-or-can-he? software app now available on all Celtic-supported phone gaming platforms.

And St-Johnstone sniffed the miraculous, giving it a go for a torrid late ten minutes which I was marginally oblivious to while buying a pint from a sexpot of a petite blonde barmaid; that’s how to relieve pressure, gentlemen…

The angst of incomprehensible misses was burst by the joy of their bulging net and enhanced by the countdown to a fighting win that brings everyone’s sporting dreams tantalisingly closer to becoming actual reality.

We won the dogfight like dogs of war. Now we go to Explorerville to vanquish the memory of cursed plastic like environmentalist stormtroopers on a mission to win the sacred NINE before Corpus can say ‘crucified’. How dare we!

Sandman. Quadrofenian Rebel Treble, ON like Donkey Kong.

About Author

The Celtic Star founder and editor, who 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

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