Moussa’s violation

632

When the players arrived at Lennoxtown for training yesterday morning, Brendan Rodgers had no intention of allowing Moussa Dembele to leave the club.  Such was the player’s behaviour over the following two hours, the manager’s view changed to “Get him out of here.”

Yet again, the days ahead of an important game were clouded by distraction, but this time it took the form of insubordination against the manager.  Brendan’s view changed from not wanting to be left with only two strikers, to insisting the player was shipped out of the club.

One photographer, there for the press conference ahead of tomorrow’s game, told the manager, “I’ve been doing this for 30 years and never seen behaviour like that.”

You and I have seen many come and go over the years, so losing one is nothing new.  Receiving £20m also breaks a barrier in what we can ask for our players in the future, but the manner which this came about is a source of regret.  Moussa is a great player, one who delivered for us when it mattered most.  His goals and swagger were a joy to watch.  Now, the memory of his achievements have been violated by his behaviour.  Having a go at the manager on Twitter, where he talked about being lied to (utter rubbish) and ‘Liked’ a comment from Chris Sutton saying he was targeting Brendan, all while playing to “Bhoys and Ghirls” is deplorable. I’ll get over it and applaud politely when you do the Paradise Windfall 15 years from now, but we’re not buying it, Moussa.

Lots to say on the transfer window, but I’ll pick up on it more next week.  We have a game tomorrow against an outfit who think they can win the league.  This is a day for Brendan and Scott Brown, Dedryck, Kieran, Callum, Tom and the others to do what they do so often against Newco.  It’s a day for you and me to lift the team and paint Glasgow green and white.

Last month was traumatic, but it was also cathartic.  We are a united club with a bit of an edge right now.  Do your thing, Celtic.  Spank this lot one more time.

Click Here for Comments >
Share.

About Author

632 Comments

  1. G64 11.21pm

     

     

    I agree with that HamiltonTim is one of the best … just a pity he doesn’t post here anymore think the day of the France v Argentina game he said he couldn’t be bothered with CQN anymore as he was too good for these pages

     

     

    C a poor attempt to make you bite :-)

  2. macjay1 for Neil Lennon on

    GUTENBERG on 1ST SEPTEMBER 2018 10:16 PM

     

    Macjay

     

     

     

     

    Good to see you back on the blog.

     

     

     

     

    From memory you live in Sydney. My daughter and her pals are heading to Cheers tomorrow to watch the game. If you’re there let me know and she will buy you a pint.

     

     

    ============================================================================

     

     

     

    Marvellous.

     

     

    I`ll be there , as will my son , Eddie and perhaps my daughter .

     

     

    If she`s there , I`ll be happy to ” shout ” ( That`s Aussie for getting the drinks in ! ) .

     

     

    9 pm kick off .

  3. GORDON64 on 1ST SEPTEMBER 2018 11:21 PM

     

    Kev Your posts criticising Hamilton Tim one of the finest Celtic supporters I have had the privilege to meet smacked of pettiness. I thought you were better than that.

     

    ##########################################

     

    I have no beef with HT, i asked why he had disappeared from these pages, when he was asked to rally the troops behind res12.

     

    i have nothing to hide.

     

    How about you ?

  4. The Comfortable Collective on

    Cannot see the starting eleven tomorrow being anything but-

     

     

    Gordon

     

     

    Lustig Boyata Ayer Tierney

     

     

    Brown N’Cham

     

     

    Forrest McGregor Sinclair

     

     

    Griffiths

     

     

    Easy peasy.

  5. Petec 11.36pm

     

     

    On a Saturday night ….

     

     

    Ultra Sonic in the house

     

     

    Loved the Metropolis

     

     

    Staying in Stevenson for a year was nearly as bad as staying in Whinhall for a year…. thank goodness am back in the Brig :-)

     

     

    We will win tomorrow … Brendan will make sure of it … one day they might beat us but it won’t be tomorrow

  6. TCC 11.40pm

     

     

    You have just stole my team from earlier …

     

     

    Great minds ? Or fools seldom differ

  7. The Match

     

     

    Even the most faithful ‘through and through’ wouldn’t have been attuned to the symbolism. But some of us, particularly those additionally privileged by inhabiting the mystic pigeon hole of ‘first son of a sixth son and a third daughter’ bloodline (a much underrated cosmic conduit of occult power) texted, called and waved to each other dotted around the stands of Celtic Park. Our smiles, reminiscent of Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore covered in mud and a phallic potter’s wheel, could have taken over the stadium lighting, but wary of being too cocky and prematurely jeopardising our mission we turned back to the tapestry that was being woven before us on the green sward of paradise..

     

     

    After all the true order of the football universe was dependent upon us. The very fabric of the firmament depended upon one simple outcome, a Celtic victory, and any deviation from cheering, moaning, whingeing, encouraging, singing and chanting could only lead to a massive rent in the space time continuum.

     

     

    But it wasn’t just the victory that mattered that night. The special plan was about to be kicked off. Mind you even ‘us special wans’ wouldn’t have believed in our greatest flight of fancy that extra terrestrial or even celestial influences could possibly be brought into play to ensure one victory for virtue in the eternal war with vice.

     

     

    After all that would be stupid!

     

     

    And then it happened! For some it was just a light, a trick of the mind, an illusion! But for those with minds specially wired through Celtic magic It was clear that though ET or God were not necessarily trying to influence the outcome, they had at least had an inkling of our plan and had come to witness the event for themselves. Aye, as half time approached those in the know tapped the sides of their noses, winked at their neighbours and weans, smiled at the stewards and pointed skywards as a huge fireball star appeared over the South Stand and settled in the best seat in the house over a floodlit Celtic Park on that cold and crisp December night.

     

     

    Of course even they knew that it was not a ‘sign’. But that fire of faith in their souls, the eerie similarity to the Star that had guided the three wise men in the night time sky could be nothing less than evidence of Mother Nature waving her knowing wand of serendipity and marking this occasion with a big asterisk as one for the annals of Brother Walfrid’s legacy.

     

     

    This after all was a must-win game against our oldest rivals; this was an occasion that would be marked as a watershed in history; this was a night when the victory would scare a million butterflies into the air and the resultant hurricanes would blow away the self-interest and rusted thinking of paced, cultures and people far beyond the parochial in-fighting of football’s greatest rivalry.

     

     

    This was the night when boxing clever would reach a new stratosphere reducing the pugilistic talents of Cassius Clay to the efforts of a well-beaten Victor McGlaglan.

     

     

    Three thousand knew of the plan but so many more would be aware of the results.

     

     

    For Charlie Dunne standing had his way then this night was to be a watershed for the meaning of Celtic; it was to be the fuse that would light the myriad of fireworks in the soul of the support; it would trigger the fight-back against the forces of reaction and in achieving all these it would establish a new enlightenment in Scottish, Irish and the shared Gaeltachdt culture that would again see this Eden at the edge of the European megalith lead the world into a new sunrise.

     

     

    Well it would if it worked!

     

     

    If it didn’t? Well things would undoubtedly get worse and nobody in the arena that night with the exception of those with various and varicose shades of blue, wanted that to happen. Charlie screwing his eyes at the very thought of failure, covered his face with his hand for a moment not wishing the others to even suspect even a smidgen of doubt on his part..

     

     

    Mother Nature obviously didn’t harbour any concerns. After all she had reached into her pocket for that star she had kept for a rainy day and tossed it into the heavens to sparkle and keep watch on the magical events that were unfold so far below her gaze.

     

     

    Strangely enough the star beam caressed not the events on the acre of vibrant grass. Instead it watched the stands and listened for its songs. Music and magic those were the ingredients that would transform football and the world forever, and as before on so many occasions, the name Celtic would pump the blood of change around that world.

     

     

    Half time approached.

     

     

    The game like so many others had been a battle of romance and imagination over necessity and mendacity. Those watching had witnessed dogged defence from a Rangers side bereft of skill, stripped of belief and unpaid in three months, interspersed with a sporadic onslaught of attacks by a Celtic side who seemed determined that they would only score if it was the result of a fifty pass sequence of pinball that would leave the opposition with grass burns on their tongues and derision ringing in their fractured egos.

     

     

    But this night was to be about the battle of the fans, a war with the establishment, a confrontation with the polis and most of all the first brush stroke in exposing the tapestry of corruption, collusion and graft at the heart of a stubborn prehistoric section of Scottish Society.

     

     

    The plan had been months in the making; the risks, options, rehearsals and most of all the absolute faith in the rightness of what was just about to be done had been simmering like the recipe for yer mammy’s chicken lentil soup.

     

     

    The polis knew that this was the day and they were ready with their batons, shields, horses and poison dipped bigotry; they listened intently with one ear to the crowd in section 111 and the other to the earphone for direction from the match commander.

     

     

    “Let the people sing’ had echoed in turn with the Celtic Song, the Fields, and a hundred others. In the far corner of the ground the traditional repertoire of the culturally bankrupt had also filled the air with that atypical devilish discord that could only come from the decaying soul of an institutional cadaver.

     

    Charlie had held the signal back. Timing was everything. He looked around the boys and girls, young and old waiting for when he felt the moment was just right, when the smir of freezing air on the faces of those looking at him for guidance turned to a smile and the lights, stars, moon and clouds came together in a conjuring trick that only the universe and Brain Cox could ever understand.

     

     

    And then it happened. Celtic scored and as thoughts, dreams, hopes and ambitions filled that East end coliseum like the tears of the past flowing to the kiss of the future, Charlie readied himself to begin the revolution that no-one could have guessed.

     

     

    As a semblance of order was restored and bodies, body parts, zimmers walking sticks and crutches were returned to rightful seats and rightful owners Charlie nodded to Catriona. She bounded onto the platform beside the drummer; raised her two arms in the air a la Broony and with a twinkle in her eyes began at first slowly a new song for the faithful that took off like a herd of gazelles around the ground stunning the already silenced bigot corner into a state of stupefaction!

     

     

    “Go, go, go” the earphones broadcast the order from the match commander and like a pestilence unleashed the forces of Glasgow’s finest waded in with batons swinging, laying out supporters of every colour, creed, sex and age. They pulled out two sacrificial lambs screaming their Mirandising as they dragged their battered bodies down the vomitory.

     

     

    The rest of the support stuck to the plan. They kept singing, song after song, melody after melody. Under assault….and then

     

     

    TB..Continued

     

     

    Hail Hail

     

     

    Matt

  8. Matt,

     

     

    I’m such a Lucky Man.

     

     

    I was sick twice last night.

     

     

    You are an Incredible Wordsmith.

     

     

    Hopefully, Hopefully Big Time Hopefully Celtic Win.

  9. bigrailroadblues on

    Good morning all from the Govanhill Captain Beefheart benevolent society. Nervous wreck already. Come on my beloved Celtic, get right intae this rabble!!

  10. Hope the bhoys destroy the Sevs tomorrow but worst case scenario

     

     

    We don’t win

     

     

    Following Celtic in the 80s & 90s

     

     

    “my Celtic don’t need to win” :-)

     

     

    Enjoy these winning days

  11. Marspapa,

     

     

    If they urnae committed to play for the CELTIC. F right off.

     

     

    I have really liked Oli’s stuff since he arrived. If he is a sheep, he is a sheep.

  12. Gordon64,

     

     

    If the Almighty decides the Hun wins or draws Today…. No point getting too stressed oot aboot it.

     

     

    Hate gets stronger before the Return of Our Lord.

  13. Once we skelp the the imposters all will be well and the past few weeks will be forgotten for a couple of days. Then Euro business begins. Sevco will get found oot.

     

    COYBIG Hail Hail.

  14. Tucobendito

     

     

    Exactly !

     

     

    Petec

     

     

    Q-tex with a different Scott Brown, made me laugh :-)

  15. TCC.

     

     

    Why has the Apple got a bite out of it and Now Anyone with that has the Knowledge. Ye Shall…….

     

     

    Why not just an apple?

     

     

    Why the bitten Apple?

     

     

    I know, I’m hazarding a guess that you do 2.

     

     

    And Welcome back as the site needs quality posters.

  16. The Comfortable Collective on

    Petec sorry missed your earlier post.

     

     

    I think McGregor will start in place of Rogic. Not because Tom is injured but more because Calum will graft a bit more in that position.

     

     

    And thanks for the welcome back.

  17. Gerryfaethebrig on

    Bigrailroad 1.03am

     

     

    I know how you feel

     

     

    Fellow Celtic fans good night n god bless got a feeling Brendan will put Hunny Gee in his place tomorrow

     

     

    And the Huns will be bottom 6, you won’t hear that said out loud

     

     

    Enjoy your day today fellow Celtic fans ?

  18. TCC,

     

     

    Brendan was angry over in Lithuania because he wanted the the tie Won there to be able to fully concentrate on Sevco.

     

     

    I will bid you and the CQN crew a Good Night.

     

     

    C’mon the Leather Belts.

     

     

    God Bless.