Sandman’s Definitive Ratings: Celtic at The City Disco. Very Disco

“The only thing I’m addicted to right now, is winning.” – Charlie Sheen.

ROXIE – 6.5/10 – Hero of Hampdump pays his final visit to another dump and emerges victorious after a busy-yet-not-busy game. Not anything to do in the way of spectacular saves, this was Joe’s day to call some shots, marshal an embattled defence and make sure he was absolutely pin-point for balls breaking in the box. Something he succeed in immaculately until big socket Idah pulled an inverse Sebo and slashed in a Sunday morning hangover OG special to share the tension headaches around. Professional stoicism and a vice-captain’s part well played.

GREGGS THE BAKER – 5.5/10 – Toil and trouble and Greggs scurried and hurried like a tormented hobgoblin just trying to keep the pot boiling. Little opportunity for him to regain his attacking prowess as our midfield capitulation had him pinned back foiling wingers. He got through yet another sub-par day by sheer
willpower.

WAYNE GRETZKY – 5/10 – After recent sterling performances AJ too hit a back-burner of a day; a telling sign when we’re struggling and require his physicality. We’re a much better outfit when he is on the front-foot and not trying to coast through a tepid 90 minutes.

OF JUSTICE – 6.5/10 – More like his early season. Appeared much sharper than recent struggles would indicate; needed for some timely interventions in our box. Still lacking the physical presence required when the pressure is really on; would like to see him rattle a few hopefuls when opponents begin to fancy their chances. This lot need reminded of their limitations when Celtic are in town and we see too little of that these
days.

GET CARTER – 6/10 – A solid if uneasy defensive display from the big mhan. Never appeared comfortable with our deep-lying resistance but did get himself in the way at important moments and held a fairly decent line while we worryingly conceded inordinate amounts of ground to them every time they glanced towards our goal.

CALMAC – 3/10 – Aw, the metronome hasn’t hit his rhythm since injury and the absence of our impressario’s influence showed alarmingly through a ragged first half. With his eventual departure we then reliquished any semblance of control in the second, which became mostly a bizarre counter-attacking exercise.

THE BUILDER – 3.5/10 – Matty? Matty? Has anyone seen Matty? Bizarre. Such a presence all season. Such an abundance of match and title-winning talent in those silken limbs. And yet, when faced with a Sunday struggle in a hamlet where even a pied piper can’t find work because the rats a have relocated in disgust, our handsomest soldier went AWOL.

HAKUNA HATATE – 4/10 – Jeez, Reo was poor. A match made for him to kill early resulted in anonymous toil apart from a dreadfully existential post-whapping moment that had you, me, everyone, cursing the bad luck and reverting to footballing superstition that we’d now go from nearly sitting or extending a comfortable 3-0 lead, to conceding and struggling to the death. And. That. Happened. Woooooo… Cue Twilight Zone music…

TAKINTE – 6/10 – The Bhoy keeps showing promise. Keeps showing lively feet, a skip to open space, plenty options. And we keep showing him … Nothing; runs, space, service, all rationed. Someday soon I hope we synch, becasue there’s some lovely possibilities to exploit there.

KILLER MUSHROOM – 4/10 – You. Back in the basement. Starvation diet. Manager’s orders. I’ll repeat: Ghod help us if we decide to feed him and win the title…

JAMESY – 8/10 MOTM – Goddamn! Jamesy beats the world simultaneous orgasm record, twice in a day! Just edging out his previous record set in a Prestwick beer garden during a ‘World Feminist Day’ rally a few summers back. Fondly remembered locally as the ‘Jamesy Sorts Out Their Nagging Agitation Afternoon’, when a knackered, peaceful calm descended upon the borough. Whodda thunk it – the outcast, benighted, discarded, virtually redundant Prestwick Pele saves the day if not the season with a pair of thrilling crackers; and you can imagine the innuendo possible around that summation.

Sumptuous volley off the side of his right foot deflowered the Dundee resistance, and a slapped left-peg killer after industrious battling, ravaged their virtue completely. In crucial games like these, up steps the man least likely and most disparaged; a Celtic legend without a song, for heaven’s sake.. And yet we may end the season belting out ‘Jamesy won the league, Jamesy won the league, Jamesy won the league… And winched yer maw!” or something equally lyrically elaborate. Hail Hail, The Flash.

SUBS –

TONIO IWATAO – 6/10 – A bit of solidity in the midfield, thankfully. Doesn’t have the Calmac guile but sure can inject some proper presence and smack down lively opposition.

BRIAN DE – N/A – Promising shoulder tattoo that could have been Madonna/His Mum/Ghost Girl From ‘The Ring/or Wednesday Adams. As for the ball, he sclaffed it.

DUNCAN IDAHO – 2/10 – KFC? No – JFC! The OTHER end, ya big dafite, and somebody tell him fancies don’t count so he cuts the stupidest sequence of pointless (back)heels since Tod Cantwell opened his closet
to public scrutiny.

THE SHNAKE – 6/10 – Well, he got the win. And… Thhhhat’s all folks! You know what I could say. You know what’s been said all season by ‘haters’ like me, yet with gathering consensus – A dynamic winning squad regressed to less-than-compliant automatons who intermittently lose their way and seem bereft of initiating any recovery mode.

Boo-Hoo, rub eyes, sneer at the nasty words from the nasty anonymous fruitcake with the keyboard. And understand – sometimes the lunatics don’t need to take over the asylum to be right. Celtic 2024 are an indistinct facsimile of Celtic 2022 and 2023. Hey, you ‘voted’ for it. Suck it up. We – HE – are/is nearly there. Your Momma didn’t tell you it was going to be pretty. And she was right.

Four wins from the ugliest championship since Davie Dodds lifted the trophy in 1983; coincidentally the same year his missus won the ‘Bravest WAGS in Football’ award. Brendan has more refined tastes in burds – any burd that looks tasty, really – and so we expect that within three weeks we’ll be dining out on pheasant rather than the ropey pigeon pie we’re being served up just now. Win it or die. As they say in chess club.

MIBBERY – 3/10 – Aside from the usual raised-eyebrow, intermittent and bewildering fussy awards, the MIBs were probably exhausted from lunchtime celebrations. So, damn – Johnny B and no controver-see. Poor rhymes bordering on nascent phish rap is all we have this week, surprisingly.

OVERALL – 6/10 – As you were. A stalemate afternoon. And we were lucky to get that. If ever you saw a Celtic side as magnanimous towards the Zombies and opposition, this is it. Rough numbers show we’ve dropped crazy points (12+? Depressing confirmation data in the replies, please…) across non-Zombie games and today’s second half was the evidence the court needed to convict all involved with criminal negligence. For an opening speell, the script looked written to formula – closing them into their pen, readying to dive in for the kill a few times. However…

The dream midfield assembled was alarmingly disjointed, picked-off and circumvented by a livelier Dundee engine. We countered that swamping by… Well, doing hey hay. Screw your Brendanista pandering, your excruciating niceties – this Celtic side lacks a defined fluid gameplan, focus and lethal instinct. All season we’ve seen comfortable positions of superiority eroded to near-fatal cost. Today was the prime example as we sat in after the break to ‘control’ the game and they pummelled us with seven hundred and thirty-six corners leveraged by players with ZERO fear of the ‘champions’.

They also put the boot in at will, for want of a Broony-esque presence dictating the physical narrative; we’ve simply nobody who can get into opposition heads. Which, if you didn’t know it by now, is an incredibly important, intimate on-field factor in winning, winning, winning…

But…

We won. So, reboot expectations and realise that, bottom line – you’d have taken the day as it stands. four to go, three points clear and five goals to the good. Considering the stats, the big picture is still a sunrise. You may feel an eclipse coming on, but let’s hope this nonsense performance, in isolation, is but another cloud cloaking the radiance of a forthcoming title triumph.

Who’d have thought Dundee away with the title aching to be saved from the jaws of the unholy abominations like a delectable maiden in a dragon’s clutches, would be so enervating? A victory that didn’t feel like a victory, yet propels us one step closer to revamped CL glory and beyond. It’s a funny old game…

Go Away Now

Sandman