SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ FIR-KED PARK
BANE – 6.5/10
Best passer we’ve got… Admirable peppering of ball around the pitch by a keepr who looks like he indulges himself outfield in five-a -side games. Definitely a strength to ping 90% of your 20 yard plus passes with accuracy On the handling aspect, he was without fault; thought at first he pussied their goal but on replay credit to header that gave him no chance
PINGPONG – 6/10
From suicidal to swashbuckling to survivor. He’s young, so you get the full range of impetuous insecurity. Great energy, electric bursts to flat-foot opponents; nothing particularly spectacular on the playing side, more a story today of relief that he escaped a savage machete attack with leg intact. more of that, later…
BITTON – 6.5/10
Who’s feeling more secure today, big Mossad… All the assassin training never prepared him to glance right and find Duffy, so the welcome stature of our youthful no-nonsense viking must have put Nir at ease. Mostly cruised it but beaten fair and square by the physicality of their war-golem who powered in a good header.
AJER – 7/10
Solidity: That’s what our defensive line benefits from with his presence. At most there’s something resembling a unit formed around him, at least, there’s a stronger sense of security and command. Worrying resurgence of his ball handling injury late on; let’s hope Lennony has his hands duck-taped behind his back over the next fortnight.
LAXALT – 7/10
So what do you get extra from your Serie A loanee? The smarts; Mental sharpness to compliment the physical talent – exemplified by his timely interceptions as we struggled for a time and capped by a double-clearance off the line as he chased the ball around our six-yard box while plenty stood static. And when he catches it right, a mean whip of a cross comes off that cultured left boot.
BROON – 7.5/10
Majestic. Presidential, even… Surprisingly played slightly in advance of Calmac from the start. And he was in and about everything; never put a foot wrong the first hour of the game, reprising his Aberdeen semi dominance of last week, pressing them high, nicking, spoiling, building. Great game, skipper.
CALMAC – 6/10
‘Sssh, it’s so…qui-et…’ and our own Bjork tip-toed gently through another game. Not that that’s (Hi, English teachers…) a problem today – Calmac’s main task was sitting in front of the defence, letting Broon roam about taking scalps ahead of him. Not in tandem for a change, it worked, and surprisingly, it was only after they swapped roles that Murderwell gained a foothold; go figure. However, horses for courses – he was competent and infrequently inventive with his footballer’s brain sparking occasionally, and we will expect more influence as the season progresses.
ROGIC – 7.5/10
‘You’re beautiful, man…” Tom Cruise, Rainman (1988). “And in the morning I’ll be sober and you’ll still be beautiful…” The Dreamers (2003)
A magnificent footballing Antipodean gift to Celtic who turns games with effortless guile. In the midst of SPFL slugfests he’ll appear like a swan in a swamp to bewitch ranks of gargoyles and conure some moment of awe. The second goal footwork, and the box-to-box Walkabout – gorgeous. Keep him fit, keep him protected; will he be the season’s sensation, back from the brink? Cross everything you’ve got.
CORPUS CHRISTIE – 6/10
God-damn, The Saviour’s Sacrilege of The Season – despoiling a Great Celtic Moment with a finishing swipe from the Sebo Playbook; after the sweeping magnificence of the Rogic Bush Trek from defending a corner in our box to teeing up Corpus on the edge of theirs… and Ryan finishes it like his Da’… Art defiled. Like taking a slash in the Sistine Chapel. That aside, he was his usual sprightly self without too much impact, floating around the edges toying with the idea of being effective; a ‘nearly’ game as ultimate timing evaded him.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE – 8/10 MOTM
“You’d better notch a hat-trick on Sunday, ya bar steward,” said the text from the Green Brigade. And you got to give it to him – he responded with a contribution deserving of a MOTM. His headed third matched the one we’d conceded minutes prior and was the most welcome surprise since the Christmas when my inebriated wife completely phonetically misinterpreted a request that she ‘flek-off’…Elshag will continue to prompt debate about affordable luxuries but when he’s providing the quality on vital days like this, there’s no arguing over the invoice.
Some leap for that goal 👏👏👏 pic.twitter.com/obYmZ8yL5M
— Highland__Paddy (@Highland__paddy) November 8, 2020
THE YETI – 6/10
‘Angry as flek’ is his default setting and it pays dividends when we require a combative presence to take some heat; good stealing work first goal and generally all first half to occupy the meatheads and let our flair Bhoys profit. Might have scored himself second period before leaving the field in reassuringly angry fashion.
SUBS:
HAT ATTACK – 6.5/10
Impact Sub #1 – THAT’S how to cross a ball, PingPong/Corpus. Textbook delivery at precisely the right time; not only producing a splendid header but also a coddle-warming wave of relief that washed over Celtic households everywhere.
SAM JACKSON – 6.5/10
Impact Muthutucka #2 – “I’m Strokin…Muthutuckas…” sang Clarence Carter and our Muthutucka stroked the shine on the day with a muthutucka of a finish after spending his ten minute cameo playing Frenchman-only
keep-ball with Eddy.
FRENCH EDDY – N/A
Kind of meandered around until Sam Jackson arrived to give him the ball, and duly involved in the Muthtucka’s crowning glory.
ALAN LADD – N/A
Tension as he took to the field and got out-jumped under the ball by Murderwell sub who nearly scored. Lack of communication with other defenders might be down to nobody speaking Donkey. That unfair? Neeeigh…
LENNONY – 7/10
Well, brutalised across social media by the Monday Morning Steins, this was a game whereby empires may fall. Defeat would have been catastrophic to his tenure, yet how many forget he’s the manager who inflicted the
first defeat of the season on a world class Barca side 8 years ago this week; a victory hailed as a tactical masterclass, probably by those currently out to plunge the knives into Caesar’s back…
How quickly nobodies forget… But legends prevail, and this one’s not finished. He’s on a match-to-match crucifixion watch – taking some pressure off Corpus… – and today they never even got the hammer and nails out.
His tweaked set-up – Broon ahead of Calmac, running interference high – worked a treat to disturb the hosts out of any pretensions to disrupt, and faith in his quality players to deliver the goods was justified. One way or another he won’t survive the TEN – he’ll either fall upon his sword or go out in a blaze of glory. The smug Ones are counting their filthy lucre, but remember Messi, Xavi, Iniesta, et al… – they once bet against him too.
OVERALL – 7.5/10
Tonic. With gin. Bit of a wobble mid second-half as we subtly altered positional play but in the end the glass was full, and thank Ghod that trek to Tinfoil Town is over and triumphant. Celtic gripped the game between their teeth and didn’t let go until the life was shaken from their stubborn opposition. Led by Broon – who’s finished by the way/legs gone/fitness evaporated/ etc according to pie-munching Green Ones – whose professionalism you
doubt at the forfeit of your Celtic soul, the side were to a man most impressive in their mental fortitude. It was the perfect response to the torrid negativity ignited by Thursdays shambles.
At some point we’ll knit it together and take off like Prof Brown’s DeLorean – we’ll scorch through historical firewalls and it’ll be a steel gauntlet thrown down to nearest challengers Aberdeen to see if they can match the
Hoops in full flight. Don’t be fooled by SMSM-hackwancfantasy – Only WE can stop the TEN.
EPILOGUE – ANDREW DALLAS
The expression “James Hunt” is a contentious, provocative one, which brings with it gravity and impact – beautifully utilised by Irvine Welsh, generally best deployed by Scottish linguistic talents as pseudo-wit laced with coruscating effect, though Billy Butcher in The Boys (Amazon, recommended) has a current monopoly on humourous delivery. In the context of Andrew ‘Damien’ Dallas, Spawn of Satan it would be completely explanatory tagged on as an emphasised noun to the description ‘sleekit wee James Hunt‘.
The numerous pernickety fouls awarded in our half to Motherwell for innocuous contact, those NOT awarded to Celtic in contrast, offsides ignored by his cohorts and the insulting, grinding reluctance NOT to pull a card for the Jaws-inspired attack on Pingpong’s thigh. Wasn’t even a straight red – it was instant firing squad. Damien squeezed out a yellow like a constipated stray jackal pup.
It’s cheating by attrition, an ironic brotherhood ‘technique’ – so face palmingly blatant in its delusion of stealth that it’s almost comical.
You’d think this sleekit wee James Hunt – English teachers, hello again… – had gotten over picking the glass out of his Coco-Pops by now. But we’re seeing the Nosferatu shadow of Daddy Dallas creeping up the wall of the tunnel every time he’s ‘officiacting’ the Hoops. Which will be quite a lot between now and the TEN, I’d wager. Perpare yourselves.
Go Away Now. For A Fortnight.
Sandman
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