SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ SYNTHETIC ATHLETIC
“Out of Europe and out of a title race. It’s the Bears’ Quintessentially British weekend. I expect Farage now to be favourite for the manager’s post when they hound out the Slippy One.”
David Sassoli, President of the European Parliament.
“If that was Alfredo Morelos, that’s a red card…”
Alastair McCoist, MBE, on the JFK assassination.
“If that was Alfredo Morelos, that’s a red card…”
Alastair McCoist, MBE, on the annexation of Poland by the National Socilaist German Workers Party.
“If that was Alfredo Morelos, that’s a red card…”
Alastair McCoist MBE, on the destruction of the Twin Towers by Al-Qaeda/CIA.
“If that was Alfredo Morelos, that’s a red card…”
Alastair McCoist MBE, on the death of Epstein, who didn’t kill himself…
THE WALL – 7/10
Made of stronger stuff than the Lego around him, stood tall to foil them with a great point-blank block. Another pitch with no forgiveness for poor kicking, he made sure with everything.
WELSH – 7.5/10
Is he? Leeks poking out his ears, right enough, but that was just how green the kid is. Thank Max Boyce he was the only defender tuned in form the start. His role became more crucial as he made vital interceptions and displayed focussed composure throughout. Well done, kid, thanks for a performance above passenger-level that helped make a difference.
AJER – 6/10
Wakey, wakey, son of Ragnar. Comic nonsense early on as he slept on a bouncing ball and The Wall saved his skin. Once he realised he was in a game he settled as much as the rest- i.e the discomfort was obvious. He toiled, like our majority.
JULLIEN CLARY – 6.5/10
Mon dieu, l’erse was rolled and bowled off him by their cage-fighting centre-forward; out-muscled, out-jumped for their goal. He knew it, did big JC, a harsh awakener for him, yet superbly countered by his beautiful finish to give us an orgasmic lead with ten to go. Struggled, but class tells.
GREGGS THE BAKER – 6.5/10
Frustration, like ordering his sausage rolls at 12 noon ( Sunday breakfast time for non-fitness obsessives, washed down with five pints…) only to be told you need to wait ten minutes for a fresh batch which may put kick-off in jeopardy. So at least he got to suffer like some of us as he went in pursuit of a telling cross but was denied time and again by dogged defensive work.
BROON – 7/10
Superbowl’s tonight and Broony lived out his line-baker fantasy with a very admirable block on the unpronouncable hulking striker Hamilton loaned from some Marvel-franchise, taking the ripped
steroid-junkie right out of it at the cost of a sore heid. Total combat-ready, Broon’s was again a pivotal role in the middle as things got tough at the bottom and we fell back on his robust mentality to get the side through.
CALMAC – 6/10
Damn Hamilton – never a good hunting ground of Calmac, couldn’t get the metronome working on the bobbly synthetic Grinch wig. Pass after pass and clever dink fell short or was cut out. He’s always worth having in there for his deft touch, forward among their low block but you knew the magic wasn’t in his boots today.
SAM JACKSON – 5.5/10
Muthu****a does the biz midweek and Muthu****as expect more Muthu****ery on a lazy Sunday? Midweek was LAST month, Muthu****as! Today was patchy as the muthu****in’ plastic pitch, never stitched together a burst of form to damage those Muthu****as any; no Muthu****as around him on the same wavelength as Wednesday for any kind of daym fine devilment; off with a rueful shake of that big muthu****in’ head.
FORREST – 6.5/10
‘How long to go? Fifteen.. Ah, screw it…” And Jamesy decided there was a game to win, so he stepped in to torment them for the final quarter-hour. He took maybe unwarranted critique for much of the game as they denied him space and double-teamed his flank. Then came fatigue, space and Jamesy to fill it, and them, in.
GRIFF – 6/10
‘If that was Alfredo Morelos, it was a red card… whaaaa, bahaaaa…” Thank you Stampy, sorry, Sparky, for giving us the Fat Sally the Gardner petted-lip, greetin’ meme of all-time as his Blue waters broke watching
replays of Griff’s ‘stamp’. Borderline red? Nah, quick feet shuffle as the boy on the ground tried to grab his right-boot, failed, got the left one in the moobs for his trouble.
Aside, Griff again was the focus of drama as he drew the sending-off then missed a golden chance. We held our breath as he remained on the park, tempting the MIB to throw a red his way but mercifully he got lost late
on and stayed out the limelight as others won the day for us.
FRENCH EDDY – 8.5/10 MOTM
Sublime. A class above his surroundings and the proceedings as they tried to turn it into a scrap. Glorious free-kick, silken movement for his second, pure unmitigated threat every time he was involved.
UTTER COLIN NISH sitter missed for his hat-trick. A hat-trick some needy faithful had put a tenner on. Point off, sell him.
SUBS:
HAYES – 7/10
Johny the time-hopping warrior; a questionable sub as he took his place, helped turn the game minutes later after vaulting the hoardings to attack a cop like it was a German trench on the Somme. Well, to retrieve the ball quickly and mount the telling attack for 2-1, but ‘.. Instrumental, always reliable, honourable Skelping hero did his bit yet again when we needed it most.
CHRISTIE – 5.5/10
Thought Ryan would impact more when he appeared but looked like he was still feeling his way back from injury as he stayed out the mix. But his cross for the big French fancy was telling and vital. Get fit.
ROGIC – 6.5/10
You liquid amber-nectar swilling altruist, you… Oz the wizard and those feet of guile – delicious slipped pass to set up Eddy to kill it stone dead. Please involve him more, Lennony – there are few NINE-in-a-row points
in those big surfboard boots.
LENNONY – 7/10
Klimala. KLIMALA! Flaming KLIMALA, for fleck’s-flecking sake! Was the cry. Was the desperation. Then it all came together, just as Lennony was beginning to resemble the support – a perplexed figure hunched in his
puffer-jaicket wondering just how in the name of fleckity-fleck we’d blown this golden opportunity.
And lo and behold upon this Sunday lunchtime, the Bhoys finally excel in what they’re good at – playing football at a level that eliminates the rewards of honest endeavour, and delivers the ultimate rewards. It is a testament to the philosophy he’s brought to the club that you never say never and play until the death. Like Lennony the player.
On came JH, on came RC, on came TR, bang, bang, bang, 4-1. Regardless of your opinions on this particular game-management, we WON; All that anybody ever wanted at 5pm yesterday. Now he, and we, move on
to Wednesday’s stepping stone to history. Closer and closer.
OVERALL – 7.5/10
Can you feel it? A disturbance in the Force. The Bhoys are on the road again. Lego just released their first best ever football stadium build – Old Trafford, which costs 250 bucks and is still worth more than New Douglas Park, including a better playing surface. Today we trod the hallowed plastic of South Lanarkshire leg-ned. A place we never perform, a place where something bizarre and calamitous can often befall us. And true to folklore we were mince. To a point.
You got to credit the Hoops, as the support looked for a basic 1-0 victory – anything worth three points, really – the side put us through a soul-searching 90 minutes that verged on epic as we had to recover from a deficit to eventually put ten valiant, zero-hours contract battlers to the sword.
They exemplified the low-level side fighting for survival with a glimmer of glory in their mind’s eye. You can criticise the Celtic players for their high-wage expectations but Hamilton showed why football boils down to 11 v11 and may the side who wants it most still have a dug’s chance in an imbalanced fight. If they reproduce that against the Rangers in the cup we’ll be requiring rubber kecks next weekend…
But our Bhoys, though off-colour and toiling on the cursed surface, did do what you, me, and countless critics never did – or could, or we’d be wearing the Hoops – they had faith in their class to tell in the end. And, jings, it did. That, for this bullsh*tter, is the glaring difference between this season’s Lennony side and last term’s Snake Squad – we possess an edge that defies sides to hold us; these Bhoys know they can do it and challenge themselves to do so; hence the festive abberration seems such a Black Sun event.
They dug it out. They refused to accept platitudes or use the manageras a buffer; they’re becoming men who can shake off adversity and see out a title. They just need to keep it going for a couple of months…
On the transfer window – no surprises; thought Han Soro would negate a need for Wanyama, and Klimala Klimax (© anonymous deviant, retro porn lover) meant new verve up front. One sobering thought – Newcastle United spent 80 million bucks last summer on three strikers – who have to date delivered 4 (FOUR) goals between them. Careful what you wish for. We move on, with an eye on Pistol Pete’s bonus fund… (probably in Bitcoin…)
Sandman. Floating on a dream-tide of Rangers tears.
ALSO ON THE CELTIC STAR…
‘Celtic go seven points clear,’ says Niall J, ‘they now have this league by the balls’…see HERE.
‘Leigh Griffiths, a red card was in fact warranted,’ David Potter…see HERE.
Hamilton 1 Celtic 4 – French Eddie and the Magnificent Seven…see HERE.
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