SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ COUNT ORLOK’S CASTLE…
“Expectation is the root of all heartache.”
– Shakespeare
THE FRIENDLY GHOST – 6/10 – Et tu, Kasper? Another uncharacteristically wayward with his passing accuracy; most unusual in his case. Did everybody have the same steak pie yesterday? Looked like the near-infallible hero keeper was still digesting his as he scrambled after their sneaky opener which crept in at the post. Forgivable though, and did hold the fort against a rake of shots later on as The Sieve made a decent fist of letting the Zombies queue up to play Beat The Goalie.
GREGGS THE BAKER – 3/10 – Busily got himself in a fankle and never was where he was meant to be in time, thus the inverted full-back role meant only cutting inside to scurry after Zombies. No supporting opportunities or able to force our hand in the middle because he was just so off it. But in good company…
WAYNE GRETZKY – 4/10 – Cumbersome day, but he was visibly annoyed, unlike some others drifting through proceedings. Managed to somehow outrage the demented Zombies by saving his face from a back header by Romanian metrosexual agitator. Never got near the levels of impact he usually does due to a frequency failure with Kuhn.
OF JUSTICE – 1/10 – One is being kind. From Ginger Baresi, the Barndarrig Beckenbauer, to the Wicklow Willy Wonka. Minutes into the game he wobbled, then he gifted their opener, and after that it was a scramble to see who could get behind the couch first, every time the ball went near him. Austin Trusty looks like he’s been self-harming with a razor blade given the amount of times he pinched himself just to confirm he was still sat on the bench. Hooked at HT in a cup final for footballing crimes on the level of shoplifting compared to Liam’s sawn-off shotgun-and-crossbow murder-spree today.
GET CARTER – 7/10 MOTM – A pass for sheer class. Often embattled, swarmed, outnumbered, but the ONLY Celt who kept his head and demanded more. Led by example, brilliant last-gasp tackle to stop a cert before half-time. Remained terrifically composed given that every time he lifted his head to play out all he could see were glimpses of green and white hiding behind swarming slaver empire blue. Games like these, I’d like to see this grizzly growling like a captain, bullying his own players into a game. Keep him here at all costs.
CALMAC – 3.5/10 – Thought he may have begun channelling Broony on half-time as he noised up Rumpelstiltskin to the point of a yellow. But no, a drop back to anonymity followed thereafter. So often Calmac has dominated the ball, and them. The ball was a rare commodity this afternoon, needlessly surrendered; his command of the game non-existent, even his basic involvement sporadic bar a great burst out of deep after half an hour of struggle. He’s got to demand more – of his slovenly team-mates that’s for sure. But also of himself – too nice to too many. Start cracking some heads around you, get players out of their comfort zones and on their Celtic toes. Set standards and be very unforgiving and vocal of those who too readily let them slip. Otherwise, prepare for more fruitless toil like that.
SAINT BERNARDO – 3/10 – A passive savage. Aflficted by the team’s viral apathy. He needs a roustabout to put him in the thick of it and has the ability to create his own in big games by dint of sheer presence. Not today; faded from view and involvement after initially appearing useful.
HAKUNA HATATE – 1/10 – Vying with Liam for bewildering impostor of the afternoon. Who was wearing Reo’s jersey? Certainly not the fluid Skelper of lore and song. His was a display so abstract and mesmerisingly, surreally shocking that it was a Japanese modern-art installation in itself. And like any dreadful, pretentious indie arthouse movie, it should have been cut down to a maximum 45 minutes.
LORD KATSUMOTO – 4.5/10 – Got to nearly give Daizen a pass for sheer Daizen endeavour, putting in his customary shift of water-carrying and covering for hopelessly out of touch comrades. But due to lack of service his moments after the break were few. And the one that did come to put us back in it, he ‘Daizened’ – managing to somehow karate-kick his own setup knockdown header high and wide.
KILLER MUSHROOM – 5/10 – “He’s no’ as guid as Larsson…” Of course he’s not. But he operates on around 25% of the service the King Of Kings thrived on. Play Kyogo, win the title, was my mantra for the desperate comeback surge of last season and I wasn’t kidding – championships are won with goals from prolific goalscorers and they need fed. His movement today was continual, his opportunities meagre; beautiful take and finish for his marginally offside goal. THAT alone should ring an alarm bell for those who berate his paucity of goals this season – play TO Kyogo, not around him. He’s here due to Angeball – the perfect foil for a dynamic attacking unit of which he was the spearhead. You’d think sometimes he was included in actual spite of that rather than as an integration of combined aspects of BR’s system. In short – stop messing around and get it to him as often and early as possible, let him do the damage, THEN you can throw on your own signings to showboat…
TAKINTE – 4/10 – We knew it would take typical skullduggery to stop him, and that’s what he got from a Brazilian jakey – a broken face via a Sunday League morning classic; forearm smash disguised by, and performed within, the charade of direction change. Trust me on that. A stupefying clunk of a hit that left his head ringing for ages. Sadly, with VAR distractedly jerking-off to the Zombie lead and the linesman filling his adult daipers in front of their enclosure, nobody wanted to take responsibility for calling it what it was, and the cop-out yellow card was flashed. As for Nick’s overall contribution – read Daizen; promising flurries (HIT IT!) let down by malfunctioning midfield which restricted his involvement, and an on-running communications breakdown with AJ.
Continued on the next page…
