Sandman’s Definitive Ratings Cup Final Special – Celtic v Edinburgh Alchemists


“Some Warriors look fierce, but are mild. Some seem timid, but are vicious. Look beyond appearances; position yourself for the advantage.” – Ming-Dao Deng

: Joe Hart of Celtic celebrates with the Premier Sports Cup after victory in the Premier Sports Cup Final between Celtic and Hibernian at Hampden Park on December 19, 2021. (Photo by Ian MacNicol/Getty Images)

ROXIE – 8/10 – Big Joe will have his say, and have his moments. Like a showgirl, he knows when the spotlight’s on him and bailed out Star Lord first-half. Then had us all in tears of relief with an injury-time stop exuding top-class keeping. As the Yanks can testify, sometimes the sporting wildcard comes out the pack like a gem you never considered.

GREGGS THE BAKER – 7/10 – Get the ovens on before dawn, fire out the produce then off to Hampden to star in a cup final. Surprised everyone with a level of performance above his norm, not only industrious but creative
and dangerous and almost fired us into the lead. Confidence on top of work rate maximised his valuable contribution.

GET CARTER – 7.5/10 – He’s big, wide man, but his eyes today were bigger and wider as he absorbed in disbelief the Wacky Races antics of his defensive cohort. Thankfully for us, as Star Lord imploded, exploded, and inverted into a black hole singularity, the unit that is CV held firm and stoic, covering like a boss and repelling everything Hibs could muster.

(Photo by Ian MacNicol/Getty Images)

STAR LORD – 5/10 – I thought you got sent off? Damn, it’s a cup final. Said the imaginary racoon, expecting a peaceful afternoon…So, would he Arthur Shelby it or psyche-ward it? Selling the jerseys looked high on the agenda first-half in a now-classic Star Lord aberration after he’d missed a sitter. Then got turned inside out to resemble a 1970s foil Xmas decoration. Then missed another sitter. Then messed up and got bailed out. Again. And so on until eventually the final whistle went and somehow we’d won it even though it all appeared to be hingeing on our 4.5 million quid predictable as a stoned chimpanzee with an uzi central defender. Star Lord’s personal cup final finished somewhere in the region of 6-6 and won on sheer dizziness. I’ll give
him a pass on the victory, but please remember the amount of times you uttered/thought this phrase in regards to his participation: ‘For heaven’s sake…’.

JURAN JURAN – 6.5/10 – He’s very pleased, smiling like a kid at… Well, Xmas, and probably deserved praise given his level of involvement after being the first player yellow-carded for… Being a Celt and not getting wiped out? Got on the ball a lot – took all the set-pieces – which would have been notable if Star Lord had finished one;
though Juran didn’t quite maximise his use of possession. Got to admire his readiness to get down and dirty when required, though.

Callum McGregor celebrates with the Premier Sports Cup after victory in the Premier Sports Cup Final between Celtic and Hibernian at Hampden Park on December 19, 2021 (Photo by Ian MacNicol/Getty Images)

CALMAC – 7/10 – Simply a great footballer. And now a winning captain. Started deep, dictated. Shifted forward, fell away a little, got back in the groove to force the issue to the end. Was all about him lifting his first silverware; that he did with relish and joy. Now he takes control of every domestic fixture, baws like melons, stoked with righteous arrogance, confident hands ready to lift the next two trophies as well.

ROGIC – 8/10 – Sublime Aussie guile opened them up like a tinny on the beach on the 25th; Which he won’t be doing here due to hypothermia concerns. But what an uncontainable wizard Oz is. Close him down, he’ll roll you. Stand off him, he’ll pick the killer pass. Kick him, he’ll laugh. Spellbound, you’ll be. The number of times he drifted between their midfield and defensive lines today had half the NFL asking if he’d like a shot at running-back. The only reason he didn’t kill them off was the minimal lack of total synchronicity between him and runners, and a few quality last-ditch interventions by Hibs’ busy defence.

EDDIE TURNBULL – N/A – How confusing. The team was here but none of the other four. And they were asking him to play against the Hibees! Once he’d been persuaded it was a training game, the old bhoy cast aside the zimmer and the fug of age, and the memories of just how you play the damn game came to the fore. He tore around the place to the internal commentary of Harry Enfield, a jaunty gentleman giving a wizarding
display of soccer accomplishment. Then collapsed off like a 1950s 40-a-day barfly. Hip replacement required.

(Photo by Ian MacNicol/Getty Images)

ABADASS – 5.5/10 – Another one of his wayward ventures, fluffing crosses, touches, mistiming runs. Credit him for keeping at it but we never got the impact or even outlet we needed. Was a passenger on the Celtic express.

MIKEY J – 7/10 – “What!!? They were back on Earth all the time!!??” Exclaimed Mikey when someone told him the ending of Planet Of The Apes, because he never finishes a movie… Or a move…Some sparkling creativity made him look like a match-winner but he just could not find the end product. Still, was Mikey’s most impactful
game since rejecting the 80s New Romantic shtick for the more aggressive 90s Oasis frontman attitude and he looked the mhan most lively and likely for much of the time until injury plagued him and he got hooked.

Kyogo Furuhashi of Celtic celebrates his first goal during the Premier Sports Cup Final.. (Photo by Ian MacNicol/Getty Images)

MR.KOBAYASHI – 10/10 – ‘Soon, Mr.Soze will send compatriots from the East to complete the job, gentlemen…” he announced to a stunned dressing room in perfect English with a hint of the exotic, “And where you now see one, there shall stand four. And the Zombies will kneel in dread before samurai blades of many-folded steel…” And then he went out and scored two goals of such exquisite beauty, potency and significance I am now crash-learning Japanese so I can research just  what beautiful geisha Henrik Larsson pumped on a
Tokyo stag night around a quarter of a century ago. King-Of-Kings revisited.

(Photo by Ian MacNicol/Getty Images)

And he’s not even fully-fit. Imagine that, lurking Bears… Imagine lifting a cup  like the wee mhan, even… This was, is, and will be, The Koyogo Final.

Kyogo Furuhashi of Celtic celebrates with the Premier Sports Cup. (Photo by Ian MacNicol/Getty Images) SUBS:

TONY THE TIGER – N/A – King Of The North. Sat on his throne pitchside, rested after his two-minutes-to-midnight glorious winner at Winterfell. Then, with fifteen to go and glory in the balance, Tony came on and I knew it was over.

LITTLE MISS – N/A – Amazed Ange played him, given he never slept at all last night because Santa’s nearly here. But on he came all cute and fluffy and bouncing about like a weeble who wobbles but doesn’t fall down,
and had his wits and touch about him to link up and play a part in getting us over the line.

BLOCKCHAIN – 6.5/10 – The angst of Eddie T collapsing was eased considerably by the impeccable Blockchain, strolling on, assuming the position, beautifully contributing to the footballing feast with some peaches of passes and no little steel when required. In fact, late on, his presence was more vital as our creatives tired and Hibs Hail Mary-ed. What a player to have in reserve in times of need.

OF JUSTICE- N/A – Winning cameo, enjoy it son of Eire.

ANITA DOBSON – 10/10 – “Angie, I still love you, baby, Everywhere I look, I see your eyes, There ain’t a woman that comes close to you…” sang The Stones. And a support’s getting closer to those sentiments as the big mhan adopts a Stein-esque poise and demeanour, giving short shrift to fools and zombies alike; if there’s a difference…Now, he’s officially a winner. It begins. Took the gamble on his principle signing today, and won. Like a boss. I said it was The Koyogo Final; well, equal top marks to the man who brought him round the world with him; there was the difference between glory and grim. Angeball vindicated, Stage One complete. Level up….

MIBBERY – 5/10 – Ha, ha, who drew the short straw out the goat’s erse and had to ref the Green v Pseudo-Green cup final? Ex-Bear-bus-pass holder and loyalist pub afficionado, Cheatin’ Beaton, glowered his way through an afternoon’s torture, attempting to ensure nobody won. But his quantum-level onanistic ambitions got savaged despite his best intention of seeing a Celt well-rattled before firing the first yellow in our direction. Ultimately, him and his linesman far side contrived to conceive the poorest attempt at thwarting a Celtic cup
win since Ally McCoist dressed in lingerie as a sexy Santa and tried to pump Fraser Forster on the eve of the final two years ago. Allegedly. And probably.

OVERALL – 8.5/10 – Noyce, mayte: Kids, that’s Australian for ‘Ya flamin’ dancer!’ And with the triumph we get the motivation and galvanising event that is crucial to this Celtic project, given the utter conniving anti Irish/Catholic/Anyone & Everyone mendacity we are up against within the Scottish establishment and, of course, a society saturated with quiet, embittered supremacism that finds a focus in the putrid Govan fascist cesspit. Har-de-har, haters. And roon ye, Crawford Allan; a name like a phish-poor jewellers…

Strike one up for the good guys. Even Hibs sported the Celtic away tops they all got as early Xmas presents.
It fazed us a bit until they took the lead, then we woke up quicker than an insulted rattlesnake and punished their audacity. What drama. What finishing. What heroics. What glory. A comfortably dominant first 45 became a proper cup final scrap. Then they scored. Then we… well, 14 seconds from knock-back to orgasm is the quickest recovery any of us will experience. Unless you go out for the night with Jamesy.

Then came a winner so written in Hollywood it looked almost cheesy melodrama but in actuality was produced by Hitchcock, directed by Scorcese and elicited verbal delights as scripted by Tarantino. Now, beer will wash over me like a tidal wave of sweet, sweet Celtic nectar to float me through the evening like a Rogic pass or a Koyogo run, and I’ll watch the highlights until Big Joe punches my lights out as I try to defend a cross by heading a bauble on the tree. But, hey, Merry Christmas, you cool mother tuckers…

Go Away Now. In triumph.


HARRY HOOD – TWICE AS GOOD –  There’s still time to order your signed copy of Harry Hood – Twice as Good from Celtic Star Books. We’ll post FIRST CLASS to you first thing Monday morning and you’ll receive it in plenty time for Christmas…we also have Invicible and Alec McNair, Celtic’s Icicle available for only £10 each. You can order below:

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

1 Comment

  1. Usual outstanding high standard.
    I was knocked out by the possible outcome of Henrik’s Tokyo Stag.
    Well Done