Aye it wis awright?
I'm still in orbit and lovin every minute of it.
It's great to see all those bleetin huns. Sutton was offside, Gould's a
cheat( point 1 they never get the benefit of the doubt. point 2 they
never got the killie man sent off)
Who gives a damn anyway 6-2, not bad. I got it wrong about Petta
I honestly thought he'd bottle, how wrong I was. He got kicked up
and down the park and came back for more.
Anyway there's a match report attached. In depth and honest(written by a Tim)
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Well, I think it's rather fair to say that few of us saw that coming.
They'll play Old Firm games till my Grandson's Grandson is sitting in the
stand, but few generations will ever enjoy the quite wonderful privilege of
being present to witness as explosive an Old Firm debut for a Celtic manager
and his record signing as yesterday's. It still remains to be seen if this
was truly the dawning of a new era for Celtic, but for now the more
abstinent words of caution can wait, since yesterday's was a win to be
savoured. And My God, don't I intend to do this now, with what I suspect
will turn out to be a rather more lengthy than usual match report.
In a quite stupendous turn up for the books, Celtic humped, hammered,
gubbed, cuffed and wellied the champions with, for the most part, all the
ease of a strongman obliterating a troublesome stick insect with one firm
swat of the thumb. Only it looked so much more spectacular. Dick Advocaat,
that tactical behemoth, darling of the Scottish game, was as out-thought by
his new found opposite in the Celtic dug out as much as his side were
out-manoeuvred at every turn on the park. Sod him, sod his team, sod their
fans, and sod the goats every one of them rode in on. This was brilliant.
And how quickly it got going. As I suspected, Celtic's line-up featured few
surprises. The 3-5-2 favoured by Martin O'Neill comprised of predictable
personnel, Gould - Mahe, Stubbs, Valgaeren - Petta, Petrov, Lambert,
Moravcik, McNamara - Sutton, and Larsson. So I got that much right,
prediction wise. How hopelessly wrong I got the rest of it. Oh, how!
The Bhoys advanced immediately from the kick off when a fine ball down the
left wing from Lubo Moravcik set Bobby Petta free, the winger running
menacingly at the hun full back Fernando Ricksen. The little winger prodded
the ball past his Dutch nemesis - whom it seemed already he had the making
of - only for the hopeless Ricksen to hit the deck in a cynical attempt to
take the winger out. He succeeded, at the cost of a corner. Moravcik swung
it dangerously into the six yard box, and following the unsuccessful
attempts of Alan Stubbs and Henrik Larsson to deal with it in the air, the
ball dropped to Chris Sutton, loitering with intent at the near post. With
typical predatory ease, the big Englishman rolled it home. 51 seconds on the
clock, 1-0 Celtic!
Rangers were rattled, and had absolutely no answer to the tigerish Celts,
who even this early were competing for every ball, on every blade of grass,
with tenacity and verve. Plan B was speedily implemented by the huns, who
began throwing themselves about with nary a care for bone nor ball. The
referee got it in the ear too at every turn. On three minutes, Billy Dodds
was correctly booked for a dreadful two-footed challenge from behind on
Lambert.
Dodds was never far from the action, and seconds later the little Scotland
striker passed up a wonderful chance at an equaliser, when he headed inches
across the line despite it seeming easier to score from Van Bronckhurst's
free kick.
Next up to potentially cripple a Celt was the big Dutch lump Bert Konterman,
who clattered into McNamara on the right wing long after the ball had gone
and again with two feet. Another booking, but the eventual punishment for
such savagery was to prove far more severe. The free kick was swung out
left, where Petta again took on and beat Ricksen with consummate ease.
Following the pattern now in place, the Rangers man conceded another corner
with a lunging tackle. Moravcik this time swept it toward the far post,
where the talented Bulgarian youngster Stilian Petrov charged into a space
in the Rangers box that you could have filmed the prairie scenes from a
Western movie in. He forcefully buried his header in the bottom left corner.
2-0! 2-0! 2-0! Pandemonium, everywhere. And only five minutes gone!
Celtic were an uncaged animal. Rangers could barely steady themselves and
again Petta was sought by a team-mate on the left. The winger's barbarous
torture of Ricksen was of the like not seen since medieval times - or
November 1998 to be fussy, as those of us who fondly remember Lubomir
Moravcik's finest hour and the resultant destruction of Sergio Porrini will
remind you. This time, Petta deftly turned on Ricksen, forcing the full back
into a late lunge. The ball spilled to Petrov though, and he performed
equally stylishly in keeping his feverish marker at bay within the tight
confines afforded him on left touchline. The two Celts combined well to find
Moravcik inside of the penalty area, who darted toward the by-line at the
near post before pivoting back into the space from whence he came, in a
manner likely to inflict horrifically painful flashbacks upon the
aforementioned Porrini, sadly absent from the action this time round despite
prior rumours of his inclusion ahead of the equally entertaining Ricksen.
Paul Lambert was by now making haste for the danger area, and the gifted
Slovak teed him up at around twenty yards. It was Rourke's Drift stuff now
for the huns, and Lambert rifled a shot low past Klos into the bottom right
hand corner. Glorious!
For those such as myself who were situated next to the visiting hordes in
the Rangers end of the ground, this was all your Christmases, birthdays and
sex with 300 supermodels at once. Maybe I should just term the feeling
indescribable. ;-)
The carnival had hit town now on the left wing, and not long after the third
Advocaat was forced into withdrawing the dazed and confused bag of 3.5m
wasted pounds sterling that is Fernando Ricksen. 20 minutes of the game were
all that had elapsed. Advocaat introduced the Turkish international Tugay,
and reshuffled his losing hand as best he could. In fairness. Rangers slowly
began to call upon a more steely resolve than had been the case prior, and
they would prove a more troublesome force for the Celts to deal with during
the closing stages of the half. Immediately though, the change seemed to
have no evident impact on Petta, who continued to run at the hun rearguard,
committing their defenders and more-often than not coming out on top -
although often at the cost of his hitting the deck to win a free kick, under
the force of a desperate and over-zealous challenge.
Still, Rangers were toyed with almost contemptuously by the reborn winger,
who at one point stood on the left touchline inviting two light blues - for
Advocaat had had his men double up on Petta by this stage - to make the
challenge. Once, twice, three times and then four he invitingly caressed the
top of the pigskin, feigning this way, that way, stepping over the ball as
well, but still there were no takers. The crowd though were not slow to rise
in acclaim of such impudence, and at this point Tony Vidmar took the bait.
He lurched toward Petta, who then immediately sped past him before whipping
in a back post cross. Poorly dealt with by the head of Jackie McNamara
unfortunately, but hey, you couldn't whack this kind of entertainment.
There were tentative openings for Wallace and Ferguson, which were dealt
with well by Gould. During the course of the game, I felt the oft-lambasted
keeper could have perhaps done more to hold a few shots, thus saving us some
goal line frights, but it's his job first and foremost to stop the ball, and
he did that well when called upon.
Prior to all of this, Celtic could, and should, have made it four. It could
perhaps be seen as greedy to claim that another goal would have done nicely
to seal matters, but nerves and greed are often inseparable bedfellows
during Old Firm action. There was plenty of time left remember. Thus one
wondered if we would be made to sweat as a result of - of all the players -
Henrik Larsson's profligacy. The Swede was sent one-on-one with Klos after a
stretching Lubomir Moravcik dealt wonderfully with a looping, bouncing high
ball from midfield to carve the pigskin a path towards Ghod with a first
time pass. Larsson attempted to kid the German stopper in much the same
manner as he bamboozled the brilliant Italian keeper Francesco Toldo, during
the summer's European Championships. But he only succeeded in dummying
himself this time, and the chance was lost. A bit of a balls up, I'm afraid
to say, whereas if it had been 0-0 at the time our magnificent number seven
would doubtless have buried the shot first time.
And so we were made to sweat, when right on half time Claudio Reyna hauled
the huns back into this wonderful contest with a far post header that
Jonathon Gould couldn't keep from crossing the line, despite managing to get
a firm hold of it. Or so thought the linesman anyway, since given TV
replays - one particular close up from above the goal on Sky - the claim
that the ball crossed the line in it's entirety looked a rather dubious one.
But stand it did. There were 45 minutes to play, and the huns had their
tails up, so I'd be lying if I told you I was still sitting comfortably.
The brief resurgence of the visitors didn't end their either, although
Celtic escaped unscathed once the dust had settled. During the frantic dying
seconds of the half, Wallace had a second hun goal chopped off for offside,
and Larsson squandered yet another opportunity, this time a half chance, to
reinstate the Celts three goal cushion. First of all, the ball was in
Celtic's net for a second time - or past our line for a second time to be
more precise - in quick succession after Rod Wallace stole off the shoulder
of Stubbs on the edge of the eighteen yard box in order to bury a well taken
counter high past Gould, following a raking ball from McCann. Amazingly
though, the linesman's flag fluttered defiantly in the glorious Celtic Park
breeze. I couldn't believe it. A tight, and hugely crucial offside decision
going in favour of Celtic during an Old Firm match! The dark ones in the
heathen end went absolutely insane.
TV replays showed that Wallace looked in line with the last defender, so...
gulp... I'd be lying if I told you I thought the decision was a good one.
And yes, it was crucial. But I've no sympathy for them, and only a caveman
whose missed the last decade would need my reasons for that explained to
them.
Celtic immediately broke, and after Bobby Petta fought for the ball's
attention with that of the two hun central defenders and the keeper, it
dropped awkwardly for the lurking Larsson. He stretched and squirmed in
order to manufacture a shot from twelve yards, yet the ball seemed to
slowly inched wide of the far post. An agonising moment, and one that
ensured Martin O'Neill would be required to pull out quite some half time
team talk. Celtic had spent the closing moments of the half on the ropes,
and Rangers were showing admirable spirit in the face of their beating.
Still though, their sniping and swiping continued, and it seemed only a
matter of time before someone exited stage left prior to the final whistle.
The Bhoys didn't rise to such petulance though - and well done to them for
that. Yellow cards were waved in the respective coupons of McCann and
Moravcik, on top of those shown earlier to the aforementioned Dodds and
Konterman. Celtic were without Lambert, who went off injured following a
challenge of McCann's that the Celtic skipper failed to stand up to as a
result of having picked up a far more hefty knock in a collision with Mahe
that had seen him stretchered from the field in quite some pain just minutes
before.
Nerves were settled early in the second half though by a moment of genius
surely worthy of taking it's place in the pantheon of Old Firm legend.
Larsson gathered the ball from 40 yards out, with Tugay on his back, and the
hun defence seemingly in no immediate danger anyway, since Konterman was in
good position and Henke was required to deal with a ball bouncing rather
trickily in and out of his path. What followed though was world class in
every sense of the term. Absolutely majestic. Larsson took control of the
ball, sped away from Tugay, nutmegged Konterman and then from eighteen yards
exactly, marvellously chipped the ball over the stranded Klos and into the
back of the net, dropping perfectly under the crossbar en route. And all
whilst moving at Olympian pace. Without a shadow of a doubt, given the
occasion and the opposition, the greatest goal I've been honoured to witness
at Celtic Park in my life. Beautiful. Yet there was still plenty to come in
this match, so more on Larsson presently.
Not for the first time, the huns were quick to respond, and in fairness to
their players at least - for their supporters had now taken to chanting en
masse such lovable ditties as "To die a fenian bastard" whilst temporarily
stricken Celts received treatment during breaks in play - their heads didn't
drop, and Stephane Mahe foolishly conceded a penalty when he leapt
forcefully over the top of a Rangers attacker, missing the ball completely
and crashing to the earth on top of said hun. Dodds converted from the spot
with a powerful shot down the middle, Gould going down to his right.
4-2, and again we were living on our nerves, for this was the kind of
gladiatorial duel that by now it was clear respected not rhyme nor reason. A
Van Bronckhurst free kick from twenty yards didn't travel too far over
Gould's bar, and Rangers continued to compete for the ball absent of concern
for the well being of the nearest Celts health. Vidmar went in at waist
height on Petta, and with his studs showing took out the dangerous Dutchman
with a real thud. Ouch! It was a sore one alright, a quite shocking
challenge, and one over which the case could be argued that the unpunished
Vidmar should have walked. Yet somehow the referee saw fit to award the free
kick the way of the huns! Still, not to worry though, since moments later
Mjallby was upended on the right wing by a late, late challenge from the
lumbering Amoruso. Petta stepped up to swing in the free kick, and faced
with quite abysmal marking by the Rangers defence, Henrik Larsson rose from
around eight yards to direct a speedy header across the face of the hun goal
and in at the far corner. Phew! Three goals in it again. Oh, this was
ecstasy epitomised for the watching Tims, from Bengal to Donegal. Wherever
you were - you bloody enjoyed it didn't you!
Rangers had shown spirit and fight (and I use the latter term rather
literally) to twice come back to within a brace, but there would be no third
time. They were finished good and proper now, and although around a quarter
of the match remained, the stadium was now stage to little more than one big
group of happy, happy people singing and dancing in the face of the bitter
bears. Rule Britannia made it's customary appearance as did a number of
accompanying Nazi salutes (oh, that's right, I'm sorry - it just *looks*
like one, that's all, but it isn't really one, of course - how silly of me)
but no amount of peepo-esque defiance would sour the occasion for the Tims.
What joy!
Dodds came close with a snap shot from six yards out, but he put what was a
very decent chance wide, and with it seemed to go any chance of one final
fightback, along with various hun heads. Ferguson then immediately rattled
Petrov long after the ball had gone, and was booked. It was incredible that
he managed to last another ten minutes - for it wasn't the last a Celt saw
of him at such close quarters, as Petta would soon testify to - before
asking kindly to be sent off for a second bookable offence.
The referee duly obliged, after an incident following a slip of Ferguson's
on the edge of the Celtic area, after the player had attempted to emulate
Moravcik and Petta by swivelling Cruyff-like on the ball. Ah, you'll need a
few more lessons from the masters yet, young Barry. In falling, he attempted
to handle the ball, a clear yellow card offence in itself, but I thought
referee Stewart Dougal was likely to waive, rather than wave the card,
probably rather wisely it could be argued, since there was little left of
the match. Ferguson though was having nothing of such leniency, and full
view of the ref he picked up the ball and gave the passing Jonathon Gould a
belt in the arse with it for his troubles. Gould hadn't even been involved!
Talk about bloody daft. Then it got hilarious. Ferguson started walking, but
turned, and attempted to square off with the keeper! Fingers waving and
spitting venom, you know the thing. I just have to wonder what he was
saying. "Aye! See you Gould! Ya... er... um, well... ya bastard, walkin'
past me 'naw that! Yan' arse ye! Ah'll pure do yoo so ah wull!"
The Rangers fans also took to sustained booing of Gould, obviously incensed
that he would he would so violently inflicted his bum on the ball to
cynically get Ferguson sent off, the animal that he is.
Larsson was replaced by Burchill, to a quite raucous ovation. Celtic weren't
done yet though, and in the last minute a fantastically precise through ball
from Petta, taking two huns right out of the game, sent Mahe in behind the
Rangers defence on the left flank. He centred for Sutton, who slid to prod
the ball home at the far post. And with that, we all went mad. Me, you,
everybody.
Although a bit iffy in defence, I thought that overall Celtic were
outstanding, and the reason is because Martin O'Neill's men did the simple
things right, from start to finish. We chased every ball, closed down the
players first and foremost, and NOT, belatedly, the pass, showed good
awareness of one another's movements and intentions, competed physically
with a Rangers team I've long since thought as comfortably stronger - and
without resorting to equally wild challenges ourselves - and reacted well to
changes made by both O'Neill and Advocaat. The introduction of Tugay -
impressive in patches here and there - for Ricksen, and resultant shift of
Van Bronckhurst, was of little help to the huns, and O'Neill's introduction
of Boyd in place of Moravcik in order to switch to 4-4-2 after the second
hun strike, worked well.
The players did all that was asked of them. Yes, even Jackie! He fought well
and filled a role I'd been touting Riseth for all week, that of leaving the
build up to others and simply making your presence felt on the right in
order to halt hun advances in behind our midfield five. In defence, Mahe,
Stubbs and Valgaeren certainly encountered some hairy moments, and did in
all honesty ride their luck on occasion. There are gaps O'Neill will still
be keen to plug somehow, but overall the three performed admirably and gave
110%, especially Valgaraen I thought. In midfield, Lambert played well until
his unfortunate exit, and Mjallby did what was asked of him upon taking up
the slack. Like I said a few weeks ago, I honestly don't believe Mjallby is
of the ilk of the standard hammerthrower, as the huns would have you
believe. He just doesn't like to come out of a 50/50 situation second best.
In a match that saw the huns throw around some incredibly dirty challenges,
nothing of Mjallby's stood out in comparison. Yet he still managed to
compete well throughout.
Petrov was magnificent, and put forth a case for man of the match ahead of
Petta, who was eventually awarded it by the stadium announcer. The winger
tailed off in the second half, but the value to Celtic of his opening salvo
cannot be understated. He was instrumental in the three opening goals, and
has left Ricksen's Rangers career almost in tatters. It will take an awful
lot for the former AZ67 man to come back from this, especially as the huns
like their scapegoats alright. Just ask Alex Ferguson, or his namesake
McNair.
Moravcik too had a hand in the goals, with great skill and some precise
crossing he provided Rangers with all sorts of questions that they had no
answer to. Sutton's poise and power left Amoruso and Konterman
shell-shocked. They just could not match it. He was first to every ball in
the air with head, or chest, and oh, how his team-mates fed off it. Well
taken goals, too.