BARELY three months into the season it’s become clear that, as Ange Postecoglou builds his technicolour dream team, Celtic have embarked on a road never before travelled.
I can’t ever recall approaching games with feelings of such glorious uncertainty. It’s like the feeling you get setting out on a first date. You hope you’ve brought you’re A-game and the promise of securing a second one. But you know that, equally, you could be left to the tender mercies of a fish supper from the Blue Lagoon and the comforting arms of Gary Lineker and Match of the Day while wondering what it was you said that brought the evening abruptly to a halt.
There were times during the 2-0 win against Ferencvaros when you got a glimpse of what Postecoglou’s football’s philosophy could look like when all the pieces fall into place. The intensity, movement and speed of our play from middle to front and a backline that defended like a unit as if their lives depended on the outcome.
That found, slow-motion footage of Jota’s pass to Kyogo Furuhashi for the first goal - shot from behind the play - should be entered as a video installation at next year’s Venice Biennale, played constantly on a loop to Ravel’s Bolero. Jota applied sorcery to that ball and I’m still trying to deconstruct it. As it curled towards Kyogo it seemed to have been fitted with an invisible parachute.
Almost as delicious as the performance was listening once more to Postecoglou swatting aside a line of infantile questioning by the BBC’s man. The manager has been defenestrating Scotland’s football journalists from day one of his tenure. It’s been an unexpected Brucie Bonus to the main event, but delightful nonetheless.
I haven’t a clue how this is all going to unfold over the course of the next six months but, for the first time in a couple of years, there is optimism.
Yet accompanying the 'carnival of Ange' has been something a little more sombre. It’s the continuing deterioration of the relationship between the Celtic support and Neil Lennon. We should arguably be building statues to this man, instead we are trying to expunge his deeds from the Celtic narrative.
Within a few hours of the victory on Tuesday afternoon comparisons were being drawn with this time last year when Ferencvaros defeated Celtic, somewhat fortuitously, at Parkhead to end our hopes of reaching the Champions League.
In truth, you can’t really make any comparisons. How do you quantify two games played in such dramatically altered states: one played in a huge, empty echo chamber; the other with 50,000 fans united in passionate support?
Lennon has been rebuked by many of our fans for daring to defend his reputation following last season’s collapse. Yet what else was he expected to do? He delivered two trebles in a managerial record that’s arguably second only to Jock Stein’s.
Celtic supporters adored Lennon not just for his successes as a player and manager but for the way he conducted himself with several media outlets who seemed curiously eager to celebrate his shortcomings. He was passionate and articulate when defending the club if he felt they had been unjustly treated. We loved that about him. So why do we castigate him for seeking to defend himself now? It’s simply his nature - and he has good reason.
Lennon bled for Celtic while suffering from depression, a life-long malady to which he bore eloquent testimony in his autobiography. In the course of his duties for Celtic, he was physically assaulted and had threats to his life simply for being a Catholic from Northern Ireland who captained Celtic. His disciplinary record wasn't far off exemplary and he was astute enough never to venture anything controversial about the politics of his homeland.
Lennon’s record in European football as a manager is outstanding. He won more games at this level than any other Celtic boss, bar Stein. He led Celtic to their first away victory in the Champions League. He’s the only manager to have secured four wins in a European group stage. In one season his team scored 34 goals in Europe: the most scored by Celtic in a single campaign.
During his six full seasons in charge, Lennon’s side won 10 victories away from home in Europe. Along the way they beat Barcelona, one of the best teams ever assembled in European football. He delivered Celtic’s first competitive win on Italian soil against one of Serie A’s top-four clubs. In doing so they played smart, intelligent and inventive football.
It all ended, of course, with one bad season when circumstances well beyond his control came together to overwhelm him. The pandemic was just one of a suite of adverse events. In the Boli Bolingoli incident and the ill-starred trip to Dubai and that crucial two-game suspension, the board of directors showed no leadership. Instead, they pushed Lennon forward to defend the club. His bosses were responsible for sewing dressing-room resentment by having several big players all clamouring for a move at the same time.
I’d never accuse any Celtic player of downing tools on the job, but it was wretchedly clear that some were producing a mere facsimile of what a player should be giving in the green and white hoops.
I’d forgotten that Odsonne Edouard had such a bright and sunny smile until I saw him score for Crystal Palace this season. Who knew that playing in front of 10,000 fans at Bournemouth held such a burning attraction for Ryan Christie?
When Edouard contracted Covid-19 Lennon was entitled to expect that Leigh Griffiths would step up. That never happened because this millionaire, international striker couldn’t maintain his fitness levels during the lockdown.
Throughout it all, Lennon defended Celtic and bore the pain. He’s been doing that since he made his debut for Celtic at Dens Park more than 20 years ago. This man is entitled to a free pass into Parkhead for the rest of his life, and our eternal gratitude.
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