An Easter Rising.
The talk is cheap. Like the man in black you have to walk the line and hope you don’t end up with a ring of fire.
The Lennon revolution hopped over the M8 to a building site in Leith. The park was so impoverished Hannah Montana has an appeal video being delivered to the UN as we speak and our contractual obligations had to be fulfilled with the dusting down of THAT fluorescent number, which for once could be argued that we HAD to wear it.
Due to building works, Murdoch vision did their own version of Springwatch and the cameras situated in a pigeons nest in the main stand. The pigeon eye view, so high, so steep like you were looking down the first drop of a roller-coaster..actually, it made you feel quite sick, didn’t ruin the enjoyment of the game as the players did that all by themselves.
Cool Hand Luka came in for Artur- in a situation when life does come before football -but the rest were middle for diddle. A rigid 4-4-2 formation with no footballers in the middle.
The game was terrible. Hibs played like a side who have only won twice in 11, now 12 and we played like a side desperate to show we could be as bland, as rigid, as solid as an MFI coffee table and bore our way to a result. Paint us blue and call us Sally.
Do we take positives from a ground out result, on a terrible pitch, in the type of game we would have lost a few weeks back or do we turn up or noses like Daily Mail reader faced with a asylum seeker at the lack of artistic merit?
Have our standards dropped so much that this is now acceptable? I’m not for sending turds in the post just yet as I think the standard of this game was borne out of circumstance. We need to shop in Poundland before we can buy lunch in Marks and Spencers.
Hibs blew themselves out after 20 mins. If they had been two up in that time it would have been a fair reflection of the opening slapfest. For the rest of the game it was like being in a fight with Alan Carr. Once we discovered that Colin Nish is actually just a plank of wood we handled their threat. Loam Millet disappeared, Stokes was no-where and Riordan done what we expected him to. Nothing.
Hibs were help in that period by Charlie Richmonds interpretation of the rules. Nish was allowed away with murder, he missed a clear handball by Ian Murray and his general display was off a man who had ran over his dog that morning. The match winning moment was debatable.
Hibs failed to clear a Celtic corner, swung in randomly and with out care and attention – our set plays are like the next door neighbours daughter baby sitting, she brings her boyfriend round and they are getting jiggy on the couch while the wean shoves play-do in the sockets…these things need care and attention. As the ball was in the air, Stokes and McGeady had an argument about who is better: Girls Aloud or The Saturdays, and Aiden received a boot in the head for his version of Love Machine. It was a soft argument. Everyone knows it’s the Spice Girls.
Robbie Keane, who was terrible, paradinha’d, and ensured the baked beans were staked neatly.
The game was from then on was more nauseating to look at than Justin Lee Collins beard. Richmond done his best by awarding Hibs every free kick he could from about 70 mins in but he put us all out of collective slumbers when he peep, peeep, peeeeeep allowing Lennon to take to the field and salute the fans, who are doing their best to ensure he gets the gig, in his best Saint Martin Of O’Neill fashionista.
His mimicking on O’Neill is not a patch on Paul Lambert’s current, embarrassing, homage to the great one.
So, Cool Hand Luka earned a Bob Marley redemption after his nightmare at St Midden. Kept us in the game in the first 20 minutes. Hinkel was so stealth like I didn’t notice he was there. Lee Naylor was immense. Gulp. He was a shaven haven on the left and his game was summed up in injury time he broke up the field and just ran into and through 3 Hibs tackles before collapsing in a heap.
Lenny’s BIG gamble is paying off it seems. So far…….
In the centre O’Dea and Thompson were as desperate as those who use social networking sites for dating for the first half. They eventually worked out how to put up the shelf that was Colin Nish who now has some books and Mogwai CD’s on him. Thompson looks comfortable in a physical match up but when he has to move he drags like community service.
Captain Caveman and N’Guemo looked out-numbered and out-gunned in the first period but smelt of Super Saver own-brand deodorant in the second. So, far Lenny looks to like his centre midfielders to win the ball and pass it to the good guys. No place for cultural activities in there.
Aiden had another decent game but on the other wing Sammy, looked a bit like Jesus, but certainly wasn’t the resurrection he was last week. Locking him in the cave, or the dressing room, was the better bet. Again, Lenny played him and left him on. It’s an interesting thought that he sees Sammy as trustworthy.
Like rats feeding on potato peelings Keane and Solider of Fortune had very little to make a nice wholesome meal out off. Despite his purple-ness, Fortune got more than just pass marks for being the exit to the defences long punts while in an effort not to be typecast as our saviour Keano was mediocre. Nice to know he is human. Rasputin was an after-thought.
Last week we were impressed by the nature of our victory. It was pacey, direct and passed for decent football. This week we learned that a cheese grater can also grate carrots.
On to Hampden.
