WE WERE only two days into 2025 when the alarm bells were shrieking at Celtic.
Or 39 hours and six minutes if you wish to be pedantic.
The 3pm kick-off at Ibrox on January 2 had barely started when Kasper Schmeichel allowed a low drive from Ianus Hagi to elude him at his left hand and the hosts celebrated their first goal of the New Year.
My old and much-missed friend Billy McNeill always insisted the best time to score a goal was late in a game when it left your opponents with limited time to respond.
It stands to reason, then, that the worst time to register a strike was in the opening minute when your rivals were afforded almost all of the encounter to get back into it.
FALSE START TO 2025…Jock Stein looks glum as he watches Celtic topple at Ibrox on January 2.
However, Celtic fans who sat back and waited for the champions to roll up their sleeves and retaliate that chilly winter’s afternoon in the south side of Glasgow were to be sorely disappointed.
A feeble performance from their favourites saw Philippe Clement crack a rare smile as his team coasted to a 3-0 victory in a one-sided confrontation which also saw them strike the woodwork twice.
I stuck the headline ‘PASSIVE CELTS FLOP’ on the match report and stated that “the only positive Celtic can take from this truly awful performance at Ibrox this afternoon is that they cannot be so bad for the rest of 2025.”
Oops! I got that wrong.
For good measure, I signed off the summary with the line, “Brendan Rodgers and his players have some questions to answer after this totally unacceptable performance.”
The same questions are being asked today – and will be repeated when the team, with only eight goals to their name after six league games, go into action against Motherwell at Parkhead this afternoon.
It’s time for the Celtic players to stand up and be counted. This is the moment to show some backbone.
The lack of resilience in the present line-up is nothing short of alarming. Distressing might be a better word.
You and I and the office cat know Kelechi Iheanacho scored a perfectly legitimate goal against Sporting Braga on Thursday night.
HEADING FOR CONTROVERSY…Kelechi Iheanacho races away from Sporting Braga defenders before scoring the goal that was mysteriously ruled out by bungling German officials.
The qualifications of the incompetent German match officials – on and off the field – should be examined by UEFA before this collection of dullards are invited to step aside from any future participation in European competition.
Having said that, it cannot be forgotten Iheanacho’s phantom no-goal arrived in the 51st minute. The home side had 39 minutes plus stoppage-time to right the wrongs of a ridiculous judgement call from the guys with whistles, flags and big screens.
That gifted the Celtic players a fair chunk of the confrontation to rise to the challenge and answer in the best manner possible. They needed to show they had the sort of character that is imperative in such a demanding situation.
Apart from a brief flurry from new Bhoy Sebastian Tounekti on the left wing, there was little or no hint of a spirited fightback from the home team. That is totally unsatisfactory.
What would Jock Stein have said in such depressing circumstances? By coincidence, today would have been the legendary manager’s 103rd birthday, as CQN reported.
Brendan Rodgers’ current side are unrecognisable from the one Stein forged back in the unforgettable, all-conquering season of 1966/67. Underperformers who failed in the steadfast department were quickly guided toward the Parkhead exit.
ON THE BALL – AS USUAL…the great Jock Stein masterminds a training session.
He would have looked at the current midfield, regularly displaying all the true grit of a marshmallow, and, with the exception of the tireless Callum McGregor, dismantled it and put in performers who could ally steel to skill, aggression to artistry.
I have been on the planet long enough to be able to look back at the campaign where Big Jock’s men swept all before them at home and abroad.
If anyone ever required proof that the manager had assembled a group of players imbued with a never-say-die attitude that marked them as winners, they should just take a look at a dramatic episode at East End Park, home of Dunfermline, back on the afternoon of November 19 1966.
Celtic conceded three goals in a whirlwind seven-minute spell in the first-half. Strikes from Bobby Murdoch and Jimmy Johnstone cut the rivals’ lead to 3-2 at the interval.
A goal from Alex Ferguson three minutes after the turnaround opened a two-goal gap once again.
It may have been reasonable for the Celtic players to drop into the way of thinking that this was not going to be their day.
Instead, they puffed out their chests, flexed their muscles and got on with taking care of business.
On a soggy, heavy, stamina-sapping playing surface, Jock looked on as Bertie Auld pulled one back after the hour mark and, remarkably, Joe McBride levelled.
In the fading moments of an exhausting battle against excellent opponents, Roy Barry, the home team’s usually imperturbable centre-half, panicked when yet another cross dropped into the danger zone and he dived full-length Superman-style to punch the ball off the head of Stevie Chalmers.
Referee Tiny Wharton had no option but to point to the penalty spot. With a minute to go, McBride was presented with the opportunity of claiming the matchwinner.
Would nerves get through to tired legs? Not a chance. The barrel-chested centre-forward stepped forward and lashed the award high into the net.
Once again, Big Jock’s players had drawn on seemingly endless reserves of energy and drive to keep going in relentless fashion that afternoon.
