Confucius
Well, we finally concede a goal and play a competitive game, with our Champions League hopes already severely undermined.
To some, this would appear to be an appropriate time to warn of the fate of other managers who lost their first game for Celtic – how some fans will never forgive Tony Mowbray.
If we read the Scottish tabloids – and those of us who try to avoid that embarrassing illness of the media world are ill-placed to comment on their responses – we might castigate Marc-Antoine Fortuné for a night of spurned chances.
But Celtic fans are already showing that, despite the worst wishes of our critics, we are capable of reacting proportionately to disappointment.
For Marc-Antoine, Wednesday night will surely not figure highly in his list of career highlights. He showed us what we were led to expect – he is willing, athletic and appears to have a finishing capability to match his scoring record. This, we were fully warned of before he signed the deal but we can reasonably expect that a few more matches will improve his effectiveness.
Landry N'Guémo continued to demonstrate that he could serve as a potent weapon in midfield, if he is careful with his distribution but then Massimo Donati, arguably the best technician left at the club, somehow managed to pass the ball to Dinamo players, scorning the vindication of a rare first-team selection. Those of us who have defended Donati are now starting to avoid people in corridors, recalling past “just wait and see” conversations.
But if we are going to single out individuals, let them be Shaun Maloney and Aiden McGeady. Quite frankly, it is time for these two laddies to act like men, to produce the goods for 90 minutes consistently. Instead, for too much of their careers, they have been playing like kids in front of their grandmothers, expecting words of praise and consolation, regardless of their ineptitudes.
“Some nice touches” and “effective for a while” are not phrases with which to heap praise on Celtic players. These two need to talk to someone like Bertie Auld and ask for private tuition in how to combine football with expediency in order to be effective. Hell, they could start by having a word with Peter Grant – by common consent not the most naturally talented Celt ever but one whose standing our two starlets look unlikely to challenge in their careers.
But in the case of Tony Mowbray, it would take a hard heart not to sympathise with him in his disappointment. True, he made a baffling decision in bringing on Danny Fox late in the game but a least he attempted to be proactive with his substitutions, quite rightly demonstrating to Fortuné and Scott McDonald that they will only play if they are doing so well. And it was refreshing to see him attempt to influence the game rather than waiting for something better to happen with a failing formula.
However, it would be wrong to fail to (again) point the finger at the real culprits – those who arranged a ridiculous pre-season schedule that was viable only in the case of winning the league title that they neglected to pursue professionally. Anyone with a modicum of sense would know that if there's one thing to avoid, it is playing a Champions League qualifier before even a domestic league game.
That can only be done by investing properly to win the SPL. Sending a team off to Australia in the aftermath of that gross negligence was utter folly – but then it had been pre-booked at the height of their naivety.
The outstanding image from last night was not of any player but of Messrs Reid, Desmond and Lawwell, sitting shiftily side-by-side in their directors' box that might equally have been a high court dock.
They may have sharp lawyers but the public are still likely to consider them guilty.
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