As good as through following a 3-0 first leg win, Juventus were too classy and composed for a huffing, puffing Celtic
Of course, Celtic were overmatched in the end, but that isn't to say overcoming the difference in class was beyond them - except, of course, that it was beyond them. But it needn't have been.
Juve, though, are a handy side. They'll not be winning this competition, but they could beat some of the better sides on a good day - their team is settled, they don't concede many, their strikers understand each other's games and they have several ways of scoring.
Anyhow, I'm off - ta for your company, and don't you go changing.
That = that.
90 min There shall be three additional minutes. Celtic have put up such an exceptional show in this season's Champions League that they are entitled to be disappointed in how this tie has eventuated. Even taking into account the Ambrose error that gave Juve such a quick opening goal at Parkhead, a little more verve in the final third from their attacking players and they'd have had something to hang onto in the second leg.
89 min Izaguirre crosses from the left, and Boney Marrone heads away. Forrest the finds Lassad on the right edge of the area, and he larrups and shot that's wide and over and useless.
87 Can time lapse? Well, it can if your clock is cut off the screen and you've only just thought to use your phone stopwatch, but otherwise. Celtic are still harrying Juve in possession, the admirable Hooper pegging it across the width of the pitch to achieve nothing.
86 min Pogba is taking a breather on the deck as the camera zooms in on Neil Lennon's herpes simplex, which nicely sets off his blazer-overcoat combo. More time elapses, as is time's won't. Elapsing away, there it goes. Elapse, elapse, elapse. Does it not know any other tricks? Pah!
84 min Wanyama has "a tight hamstring", we're told. He may well have started the game with it, because he barely featured. Hamstring is good in chilli beef ramen, apparently.
82 min Football's Vit Hybl points out that it's not all ruined. "Unlike those boring ones, our Czech League (you somehow omitted in your list) is still very dramatic. So its not ALL over yet."
I omitted the Czech League from my list because it's one that, of course, I know to be not over. I'm sat here in full Dukla away kit, you know.
81 min Some nice football! Yes! Forrest nips one into Ledley, just outside the area, and he flicks it off his
soul sole, turning left while the ball goes right and teeing up Samaras, who drags a shot that goes naewhere ta naewhere.
79 min In the wake of more missing minutes, the ball traverses side-to-side and up-and-down, with nothing of consequence perpetrated to it. Samaras is now strutting around in central midfield, flicking his hair and spraying a pass wide, at which point it's time for Celtic to cede possession in advance of Juve doing the same. Juve do the same.
72 min There are not very many good teams in Europe: discuss. The English, Scottish, Spanish and German leagues are over already, and Juve are six points ahead in Italy.
71 min Both sides are knocking it around without any intensity. Celtic appear to be more interested in a goal, but haven't really got close all night - and for all their territorial dominance in the first leg, only really got near from a set-piece.
70 min Talking of nicknames, I would die a happy naches machine if someone could confirm that Marrone's dressing room nickname is Boney.
69 min If Mauricio and Leonardo clubbed together to purchase an island, it could be called La Isla Bonucci.
That isn't it. Feel free to locate it and send it in for me to pass off as my own hilarity.
69 min Commons goes off, Lassad comes on.
68 min Here's Melbourne, Australia, in the shape of Ayal Nathan: "I am having a bit of an Alan Partridge 'Stop getting Yiddish wrong' moment here. Whilst in many cases parents may have to schlep nachas from their nogoodnik children the word you are looking for is shep, as in the Blue Peter dog. For example: "Oy Mrs Harris, you must be shepping nachas that Daniel is writing about the intricacies of Yiddish instead of the football that everyone expects in an MBM."
Nogoodnik is certainly not a Yiddish word - though nudnik means idiot, so that might be what you're after. As for the original point, just try that in my grandma's house and see where it gets you.
67 min Pirlo has done his bit, and leaves. I think Giovinco has replaced him, but I was consumed trying to think up a lead for the punchline La Isla Bonucci. Ok, so take a gun and bite me.
66 min Vidal departs, Isla arrives.
This is all about your man Pirlo, who lasers a perfect cross kick to Vidal, piling in on top of Kayal and cutting in to suddenly appear in front of goal. He could shoot, but elects to make sure, squaring for Quagliarella to tap in.
63 min Celtic's supporters are going for it, to give them their due <insert stereotype or cliche here>.
61 min Pogba has the most beautiful way of caressing the ball, sliding his whole body into the connection - even when picking out Joe Ledley. I wonder what else he's good at. Air hockey for one, I'll bet.
60 min What are the rules about kits which clash, and do black-and-white stripes clash with green-and-white hoops, more so than with all black? It would appear so.
58 min Ambrose's forehead is first to reach a left-wing corner from Mulgrew, but his header is wide. Asamoah replaces Peluso.
57 min Charlie Mulgrew might have gone to centre-back, with Kayal at right-back - and it's Mulgrew who is sharp to intercept a Vidal pass that looks like it's slithering through for Matri. It is not slithering through for Matri.
55 min Quagliarella and Matri are a proper partnership, and they link up with feint, flick and pass, but a bum touch from Matri sends him too far wide to accomplish anything.
53 min Style tips with Simon McMahon: "The best thing about this game so far is Lennon's frankly laughable attempt to look like he is a Scottish / Irish version of Mourinho or Conte or AVB in the style stakes. It's obviously confusing his team, who don't know where to look. He should change back into his shell suit at HT."
I'm not sure Mourinho has got it anymore - he's all a bit scruffy and lardy these days, which is far cooler, but not as smart.
49 min Vex for Celtic - Matthews has twanged a hamstring, and with his natural replacement also injured, Forrest is coming on. He'll play right-midfield, with Mulgrew moving to right-back, I think.
48 min This is, like, well, like, nice from Juve. A loose pass from Mulgrew finds Pogba, just left of centre and thirty yards from goal. He seizes up the situation en rapido and slides a ball between Kayal and Izaguirre for Matri, but it's a little straight, and instead of attempting to deal with it anyway, he allows it to bump his heel, diverting it right and behind for Quagliarella. His low shot is saved by Forster.
46 min It starts again. Ambrose replaces Wanyama, which raises a question: did Celtic's starting eleven boast the highest combined shirt numbers of any team in the history of shirt numbering? And is there a highest permitted number? Can one play with Inifinity recurring on one's back?
Oh, Peter says the email address of Peter Oh. We could just leave it there, and mosey on down to tales of Oliver Shalom (English translation, rest in peace) - and you are most certainly invited to send in comparators - but here's his email.
"A song by the Manic Street Preachers has the lyric “a hundred thousand watch Giant Haystacks in a Bombay fight”. I don’t believe that Paul Young’s done a cover of that one. It sounds like Celtic needs a Bombay fight halftime talk to keep hope alive."
Quick housekeeping email, from Nat Guilloiu "Can Seamus Devlin explain that story? Why did he have bacon? Why did he slap it on another man? What, in the name of all that is good in holy, is he talking about?!"
Sadly, that was my story, as denoted by the inverted commas. But a bacon slice is when one whips a pair of fingers, traditionally index and middle, down the unprotected bottom of another person. Not to be confused with a bicycle ride, a brainwash or an ear burn.
Half-time ad break, Glesgae special brew.
Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over. Don't. I insist. But I think it's fair to say that over is what this one is. Celtic are doing ok and all, but exerting nothing like the control they managed in between gifted goals in the first leg. Juve aren't going mental, but pretty much all the decent stuff has come from them. Expect them to score another one or two in the second half.
45+1 min Matthews pumps over a cross from the right that Buffon claws behind, and from the corner, Wanyama gets on a run to meet it, but concedes a free-kick.
45 min Philosophy corner: did the lost minutes actually happen? There shall be at least one of the aforementioned in the way of additional time.
42 min I'm totally guessing with the minutes the noo, but Quagliarella finds space behind the Celtic midfield and accelerates into it, locating Vidal around the edge of the box, pretty central. He attempts a shot with his laces, but ends up dragging it slightly, and Foster plunges to his left to save easily enough.
39 min Izaguirre floats over a cross from the left, but it's lacking the pace to make heading it very much fun. Though Kayal is first to rise, he can only nod it towards Buffon, but Celtic get another fractional chance at a chance a minute or two later. This time, a poor back-header from Bonucci has Hooper fighting for the loose ball, and he flings a leg at it, but can't trouble the keeper, who remains untroubled.
37 min At long last, someone wants to talk wrestling, and it's Seamus Devlin. "Big Daddy had Giant Haystacks (well not in the John Major, Edwina Currie sense - I assume/pray)...Man U fans had the ref and Roy Keane...hard to see where the bad guy is coming from tonight as this tie draws its last, Daniel. Just another kick in the baws for Scottish fitba."
Poor old Scottish fitba. And talking of Giant Haystacks - I thought you'd never mention it - I once saw him wrestle. After he'd finished, everyone was patting him on the back on his way back from the ring - as you do, apparently - and I thought it prudent to administer a bacon slice, achieving the most perfect connection of my career. Seconds later, I'd been schlepped into a side room and had a thousand stones of angry wrestler standing over me, wondering if I'd like an encounter with his prodigious fists. I declined.
36 min Juve win a free-kick deep in the Celtic half but right over on the right touchline. The commentator somehow expects Pirlo to fling in a curling, zooting, burning shot that winks at the keeper as it struts by him into the net, and blames himself when it doesn't.
34 min Flying winger Samaras flying wings down the left, taking Peluso with a change of pace and lasering over a cross that's got just too much on it for the skidding Hooper. But better from Celtic.
33 min Pirlo sashays away from a tackle or two, stroking his beard with erudition, and he's fouled. What a man, etc.
31 min Wanyama, who has been so good for Celtic this season, has done the cube root of donaldduck-all so far this evening.
30 min "I'd love to send you my sorrier tales of naches," laments Harry Tuttle in true Woody Allen fashin, "but just when I thought I understood what it meant, your example confused the heck out of me. So I googled it and now understand it to mean 'pleasure derived' - and suddenly your example makes sense (I'm not dissing your prose, man; I've just been working too hard, honest). So, erm, my tale of naches? I guess I take my naches from being a self-denying neurotic freak. Meaning: naches in negative. What Max Weber might have called the Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Naches."
I'm sure your parents are kvelling.
28 min More pleasantness from Juve, Quagliarella breaking and bousting past a tackle or two, finding Vidal on the right of the area and with Izaguirre somewhere upfield. Opening his body so wide that he almost falls over, he curls a left-footer just over the top from around twelve yards, cursing his profligacy - but that was a difficult chance.
26 min Commons cuts in from the left and whips across a dangerous shot that Hooper deflects with a lace at it passes him. But Buffon's reactions remain intact, and he twists his body into a save that looks far more comfortable than it was.
Hooper dwells on the ball and is dispossessed by Peluso, who tall-ly evades a couple of challenges, maybe forty yards from goal, and slips a low ball inside Matthews and outside Wilson for Quagliarella, wide on the left. He fires in a low shot that zips between Wilson's legs, which Forster can only palm out a yard, to where Matri is waiting to tap in. Foolrster.
21 min Quagliarella floats and burns away from Matthews and Ledley, wobbling his knees and quickening his pace - that was very handy indeed - but though he espies Matri pulling away to his left, the pass is too overhit.
19 min Just as I said Juve were taking control, Celtic wrest it from them, not by doing all that much, but nonetheless. The splendidly named Charlie Mulglew whips over a cross that Buffon claims, and that's it. If Buffon were English, he'd have been wrecked as a teenager, by a headline of Buffoon the first time he made anything approaching an error. And he's flying across his goal all of a sudden, when Ledley wipes his foot across a long-ranger that whistles just wide of his left upright.
18 min Commons finds a spec of space in the area, close to its edge on the right hand side, but the ball is never fully within his command, and he's crowded out by Peluso and Marrone.
16 min For the geeks amongst you demanding insignificant nonsense like line-ups, you'll find them below with my compliments to the internet.
On the pitch, Juve are taking charge of this game now, Pirlo beginning to fade passes around Ledley and Wanyama with Vidal buzzing around him. Then, Matthews receives possession and sets off upfield, but Peluso fouls him for no reason and is booked.
12 min Pogba draws the ball into his feet and spins, leaving Ledley agape, and forces through a shot that Forster flops upon. What a player he's going to be - he's already a pretty good one - but not a patch on Anderson, obviously.
10 min Just so's you know, I cannae see a clock, so the timing might be oootae kilter. Anyway, as the players mark time, Ryan Dunne emails in requesting a Yiddish lesson. "I thought schlepped meant ''to traipse regretfully'' e.g. ''after being romantically rejected yet again, the mbm-reader schlepped home via the comic shop'".
Schlepped does mean to do a long, aggravating, debilitating traipse - "as he schlepped through his miserable life," for example. But it's used there because it means to pull hard at something, hence schlepping naches - though in my house, klibed was preferred.
7 min Ledley spots Commons in space and slips him a
tongue pass on the left just outside the box. Unsure whether to shoot or pass, he swithers, and the ball eventually breaks to Hooper, whose shot is blocked. But Celtic keep the pressure on, forcing a throw-in and everything, which comes to nowt.
6 min As they did in the first leg, Celtic have settled well, only this time without gifting a goal. It's end-to-end so far, only without the ends.
5 min Not a huge amount coming to pass thus far. Samaras the flying winger attempts a dummy and turn, but gets nowhere. The rain continues to rain, noun and verb all in one go, as Juve try to get things moving, a long ball seeking Quagliarella but flying plenty over his head.
2 min Etymology update with Dee Lazarus: "Following on from your weejies / weegies exchange there I wanted to add that a number of Aberdonians of my acquaintance maintain that it is in fact "Wee Johns" due to half of Glasgow being Wee guys called John. So there you have it."
The weeness of the clientele is not something I've ever noticed, I must say - or only with regard to temper and patience.
Meanwhile, Pogba powercruises through midfield, but his ball to Matri is cut-out by Matthews.
2 min BREAKING NEWS: Fraser Forster cautioned pre-match for eating James Milner's head.
1 min Celtic commence the evening's pootle.
Extinguish the electricity, says Matt Dony. "Whoah now, Danny Boy; are you telling me football still exists? I though Madrid won football for good last night, thanks entirely to a shocker of a referee and his commitment to 'rules' and 'player safety' and 'common flippin' sense'! I can't imagine there's an audience left to watch tonight. Remain indoors. Do not mention the event!"
Done and done. I'm off to undry my throat.
There's a word in Yiddish: naches. It means the joy you're mandated to donate to your parents according to their definition of the same, and can be either klibed or schlepped.
For example: "My parents klibed everlasting naches when I smashed the window of a neighbour playing knockdown ginger on Shabbat".
This is naches (and please do send in your sorrier tales).
Calling Irvine Welsh. "I've always though of my esteemed colleagues and honourable comrades from the West coast as weegies, with a G," asserts Andy McIntosh. "Is the 'J' a cultured continental touch? Anyway, lets hope Celtic score first to make a game out of it. And any insights on El Fardo by Rubén Darío?"
I think you're probably right, I was just influenced by the Giffnock massive.
Emails! Here's Rangers O'Dunne at the humiliatingly early oor of 18.47: "Hawrite Dazzle Hazzle!" he shrieks. "I'm sure your inbox will be pure stowed wi missives from The Greatest Fan(***)s In The World (presumably Parkheed's been sold out for every game this season) but, in the offchance it's not, here's an email from my good self to print instead. Nothing like a team with peerless domestic success and legions of diddy team haters teaching cellic a fitballing lesson!"
Something about cheating.
Insight alert! "Italians are Italians." Thanks, Raymondo.
Ta git ye in the moooode. Here's a ditty I encountered in my youth, via Mark McGhee's nephew of all the gadges.
Edwina Currie and John Major, but - in those quaint days when we didn't mind paying for things, included amongst them printed paper, that is the only time I can remember reading the front page first. I seem to recall about line about that being what happens when "two good-looking people work closely together". Expect to see tales of me and Paul Doyle arrive on your tablets by Sunday.
It's fair to say that, along with perhaps Manchester United's 1999 treble and Nottingham Forest's consecutive wins in 1970s 8 and 9, Celtic winning the European Cup with a squad assembled almost entirely of Weejies is the greatest continental achievement of any British club side. We'll certainly never see anything remotely like it again.
Anyway, your teams:
Juventus: Buffon, Barzagli, Marrone, Bonucci, Padoin, Vidal, Pirlo, Pogba, Peluso, Quagliarella, Matri. Subs: Storari, Chiellini, Vucinic, Giovinco, Asamoah, Giaccherini, Isla.
Celtic: Forster, Matthews, Wilson, Kayal, Izaguirre, Commons, Wanyama, Ledley, Mulgrew, Samaras, Hooper. Subs: Zaluska, Ambrose, Miku, Stokes, Nouioui, McGeouch, Forrest.
Referee: Firat Aydinus (Turkey)
Preamble Edwina Currie and John Major. Calling Sebastian Coe 'Lord'. Ruining your life. Getting married. Edwina Currie and John Major. Sympathy for the devil. Sympathy for Nani. George W. Bush leading the free world. Paul Collingwood MBE. Paul McCartney's coupon. Cutting disability benefit and basking in the reflected glory of the Paralympics. Edwina Currie and John Major. Edwina Currie and John Major.
See, lots of things are impossible, see - and yet they happen, remaining impossible all the while, even in the aftermath - and yet, still they happen. So, 0-3 down against Juventus, away leg to come? Veritable slice of the yellow stuff!