SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v MOTHERKETTLEWELL…
theRangers: “Who are you?” …Death: “I am Death.”
theRangers: “Have you come for me?”…Death: “I have long walked by your side.”
theRangers: “So I have noticed.”…Death: “Are you ready?”
theRangers: “My company is ready, but the club is not.” …Death: “Nope. That won’t work this time. Brace yerself…”
– from ‘The Seventh Seal’ (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)
ROXIE – 6/10 – Pick it out the net. And… well, one other job to do was a basic sclaff of a punch at an early corner, executed like Ryan Kent attempting to hit a Pride Parade pinata. Lonesome and frustrating day; a metaphor for us all.
GREGGS THE BAKER – 5/10 – Was just considering how quiet he had been – usually intrinsic to the Angeball functionality – when he popped up in a lead role and became muppet of the hour. Isolated by Dutch Van Beanpole and turned inside out to concede ground and the equaliser; A day best forgotten amid a spectacular season.
STAR LORD – 6.5/10 – No tomfoolery as he coped well with the big physical windmill threat and appeared in their box as a genuine attacking option – giving rise to moments of excitement during which he then fluffed his lines and, in particular, a golden chance for last-ditch glory. Racoon; head in hands; staggering down the North Curve.
GET CARTER – 6/10 – Injured? Aye, mayte, roight… Solid and sensible and looking to get on the scoresheet as everything was tidy and secure and…Had to look on, chasing back as the fort got compromised and a record slipped away. Culpable? Only in the reasoning that giant Van Gulliver of the Netherlands was not the danger his record this season purported he was and could be left in the secure hands of a Lilliputian sausage roll-munching baker as CCV foraged up in their box. Harsh? Hmm… Just not cautious enough in my opinion; but that’s not worth much at all…
WAYNE GRETZKY – 6.5/10 – Great industry, not too great with the balls into the box; maybe another phone call with crossing-guru Guppy is in order. AJ’s repetitively blocked input comprised the meme of the day; so consistently infuriating.
CALMAC – 7/10 MOTM – Give us a leader, give us the mhan. And he did all he could, particularly that first 45, to prompt and penetrate – Jamesy, no! – and lead by splendid example. A foundation of diamond-studded granite wearing the armband. Even made amends for the one RPG attribute he’s been lacking this season – goals (and that’s no real expectation); skipped in an opener to set the stage, or so we thought. Yet his cadre of rebels didn’t repond as he’d expect and the points slipped and if he’s half the kapitan his reputation carries, then they’ll be hearing about it all week and expected to make amends next Sunday…
THE BUILDER – 6.5/10 – Damn, this bhoy has some gilded footballing feet; how many times did our play flow through him around their box? And yet the last jigsaw piece just wouldn’t go in as he dinked and slotted and clipped, and the damn ball refused to find a hooped jersey and end the contest. Rogic junior, indeed; Rogic
light today; but I can’t lay any blame at his gifted bits.
TONIO IWATAO – 6/10 – Yakuza security services. Snappy into the tackle, arms like Red Rum’s hind legs, quick footballing brain; a sensible one, too – lovely footwork to regain possession and lay on Calmac’s goal. ‘Dae yer joab’ is the only Scottish he knows; and he’s doing it just fine.
LORD KATSUMOTO – 6.5/10 – Dynamic, and compassionate too – seen visiting the post he injured in hospital tonight. Did everything bar score, as we know, and carries no burden regards dropped points because Daizen’s Daizen and will career through brick walls until the samaritans take the remote off Ange and flip out the batteries.
DEADLY NIGHTSHADE – 5.5/10 – Ach, when his moment came he… didn’t. And neither did you…Marvellous turn and snapshot to end a terrific move, but wrong side of the post and the game-killer eluded us and the script
was written for sulky-sigh-Saturday. Tough to be grave on the wee mhan’s 100% committment but echoes
today of the CL moments that defined win or bust and can make all the difference; and that’s his job, folks, like it or not.
HACKY SACK – 5.5/10 – Well, even though we’ve expected silky match-winning guile, I’ll remark on this – when the chips are down he’s still a grafter; admirable work-back to harry and regain possession, fruitless in the end as nothing ran for him. but his day will come again.
SUBS –
OH BHOY – 5/10 – Oh, Bhoy… Right there was another Hibees glory moment and he knows it. Just couldn’t apply the Klinsmann snapped-header, ironically.
MOOEY – 5/10 – Thrown in to bestow some cultured finesse on our build-up play, yet immediately caught the lob-it-anywhere-but-desired bug.
EDDIE TURNBULL – N/A – Motherwell? Yes, I recall… So which way are we shooting? Why are we wearing green? Matron!
VALUE ADDED TAX – 6.5/10 – Pay up, Zombies, the kid’s on his way! Just turned 18 midweek, yet still able to produce more killer final balls in ten minutes than players old enough to be his… Um, big cousins? Collapsed analogies aside, young Rocco put in two brilliant crosses that had ‘flaming-winning-goal-ya flaming-dancer-here-we-go-again-flaming-lager-everywhere’ written right around the ball in Zombie tears (orange pus, to be exact) and
yet none of his seniors were on-message. Did well, bhoy, many happy returns.
ANITA DOBSON – 6/10 – A mild shuffle to return a big gun, and faith in the rest of team that dispatched Killie so efficiently to repeat the feat. Well, faith ain’t always a saviour…Things looked as Angeball as ever, even after the equaliser, but the Bhoys, for once, were not able to get the system over the line – their goal-line to be precise – as our killer instincts evaporated in the chilly sunshine. A mystery to Ange who went full-Mowbray in search of another late winner and but for blunt finishing may well have been satisfied his ideology beat the black arts to claim max points.
MIBBERY – 5/10 – The grinding irony for Bellshill Tavern Johnny as a bewildering result crept up on him and his influence was limited to a few cards and reluctance to drop their numbers with a red. All too late for the season, but comforting to know he’d have been struggling to sleep last night imagining such a draw had come months previous.
OVERALL – 5.5/10 – What’s wrong with ye? Cheer up, ya springtime Grinch. That result has been brewing for a while; such is football – the universe, she is a bitch, and at some point the late drama would refuse to emote in our favour and the dying embers of the game would be the oppositions to relish and cherish.
And let’s give a reluctant golf clap to the Platoon-death tribute acts among Motherwell’s squad; played the clock, frustrated the hell out of Celtic, kept their defensive discipline credibly as we swamped them, and picked off a fine individual equaliser. Those plodders did what they came to do to the full extent of their abilities, and got their reward; only our lack of ultimate conviction and sharpness in their box cost the impeccable home record.
A strange one to take as the match performance as a whole resembled the disjointed Hibs game without the escapism of the result. These players are too damn gallus – determined to win the title at Mordor and rub their ugly Orc faces right in it; casting away two points just to sit back with popcorn this afternoon and watch the utter seethe as Barry Robson’s Dons deny the deviants a win…
Liam Kelly every time Celtic went near the Motherwell goal yesterday. pic.twitter.com/zchutKAaQK
— Boyle (@Boyle_67) April 23, 2023
Sheesh, what days we live in… Enjoy the ride, win or draw – there’s just FIVE to go and ONLY TWO wins against the parochials or ONE thumping of Satan’s Select brings home the BIG prize and Champions League uber-thrills. And if I’d given you that scenario last August you’d have said, “Sandman, make like Jamesy and bend me over a pub-kitchen dishwasher full of glasses and have yer way as ye speak those words into my disbelieving but sanguine ear.”
So here we are. Touch yer toes…
Go Away Now
Sandman
never read so much shite in all my life you should work for the klan klub
Thanks, hun, you ok?