Who will be the next Celtic manager? The tan and teeth guide to following Brendan Rodgers

It's that time again - and it will probably last for three months.

It's the time when every loon, attention-seeker and "in the know" tosser gives their tuppenceworth on who should be the next permanent manager of Celtic.

Many of the would say that I know little to nothing about football. But I would counter that that makes me as qualified as the most successful football pundits in Scotland, so why not share my wisdom?

(Rather depressingly, many of the names below have been literally copied and pasted from a previous article on this site, at the end of the Ronny Deila era.

So, here goes:

Neil Lennon
Like the vast majority of Celtic fans, I have admired Neil as a player and coach since he was first signed by Martin O'Neill.

That said, I was against his appointment first time round (due to his inexperience) and I wasn't convinced that he would be a huge success when he left us.

But his time with Hibs seemed to demonstrate that he had far greater tactical knowledge than I had given him credit for.

Perhaps being with Hibs, not Celtic, he was more likely to be questioned on what happened in games than pressed for a big headline or perhaps he has just developed but he seems to have shown that he can evolve as a coach, which is a vital quality.

He has also, of course, won three titles and experienced the best and worst that the job can bring.

My personal view: still tending against it but softening somewhat (more on that later.

John Kennedy
There have been rumours that Kennedy is highly regarded by both the players and the board. But is he ready for the big job right now? Probably not.

Marco Rose
One of the more intriguing suggestions. He has worked wonders with Red Bull Salzburg, who took maximum points from our Europa group.

Salzburg also work with a limited budget in a minor league, but with world-leading facilities.

It would be a huge coup but the Bundesliga surely awaits him very soon.

Roberto Martinez
Has been linked before and heavily touted as a candidate.

After a very successful World Cup with Belgium, his stock is high and would be a candidate for any number of top clubs.

Still, he has Shaun Maloney in his coaching staff.

Mark Hughes
The English football pundits' idea of a football manager.

That's why he should manage a team in the lower half of the Premier league or the Championship.

Doesn't know how to smile.

Steve Bruce
See the entry for Mark Hughes above.

Jack Ross
Doing a solid job with Sunderland having been Scotland's manager of the year, last season.

He certainly talks the talk but would be a huge gamble.

John Collins
Absolutely not. Collins has the air of a self-annointed aristocrat of football. Rumours of him rubbing people up the wrong way seem all too credible because he just exudes smugness.

Plus, we must be careful of making white teeth and a permatan a tradition in our managers.

David Moyes
Moyes might well do a good job but he has spent the years since leaving Everton, for the most part, making his own club's supporters cry. I don't think so.

Gordon Strachan
It seems that Gordon probably has no appetite for the intense pressure of the Celtic job again. So, that rules him out.

Martin O'Neill
No doubt he could deliver titles again and may even be tempted to leave the bright lights of Nottingham but it would be very much back to Martin's way, which is not going to progress the club.

Plus, he would bring Roy Keane.

Roy Keane
Let's hope not! The man punches people who ask for his autograph.

In his second autobiography (because one is never enough) he stated that going to Ipswich was a mistake because, having taken the job, he discovered that he couldn't motivate himself to put his heart into a team in blue.

He should be in a secure unit on an island somewhere.

Mick McCarthy
Good old mick. I have a soft spot for him and he gives the impression that he would nut a lamppost if it caught him on a bad day.

I'm not sure that's what the coaching blend needs right now.

Henrik Larsson
Not this again! We all love him and respect him utterly. Let's keep it that way.

Alan Stubbs
He'll reckon he could do the job but recent evidence is that he's a far better pundit than a manager.

Steven Gerrard
On the plus side, he both knows Rodgers's methods and has experience of breaking his heart.

Negatives (too numerous to list) include the fact that he thinks £1m is an eight-figure sum.

Derek McInnes
When hell freezes over.

Michael O'Neill
No doubt his name will crop up again and I wouldn't put it past the board. He's good at what he does with meagre resources but it would be suffocating football.

Malky Mackay
A name only suggested by a mainstream media pundit to stir things up. He would be a PR disaster and has a reputation for liking to spend on players.
But you can bank on his CV already being in.
No.

Steve Clarke
A popular choice who has apparently said that he doesn't want another job in Scotland.

Probably would be very successful and has excellent credentials.

Steve McLaren
Just the sort of tosser Celtic plc would like to foist on us, accompanied by a puff piece on a well-known blog, telling us how smart a move it is.

Paul Lambert
That guy who will always believe that he is a much better manager than he is. He should be managing Aberdeen or a club of similar stature.

Owen Coyle
Would bring all that Bolton and Raith Rovers experience - and appoint someone like Lambert as part of his "dream team".

Jose Mourinho
Made a comment about Rodgers having left at the wrong time and started an Internet rumour in the process. It's one of the more fun rumours but a non-starter.

Arsene Wenger
Let's stick with the silliness. He can certainly coach players, has big-time experience and might even see Celtic as a stepping stone to Leicester some day.

In reality, he'd probably prefer to manage a French or maybe Belgian club and there would be no shortage of offers.

China or the MLS would also be more likely than Celtic.

So, that's just a few of the people who probably have no chance of being the next permanent Celtic manager.

But, going back to Neil, there is a possible scenario in which his appointment works.

I hope for a management team that can retain the best elements of the Rodgers reign but with greater tactical flexibility, the ability to compete in Europe while entertaining without being kicked off the park.

Having worked with Rodgers for two-and-a-half years, John Kennedy will have retained the knowledge of the good things he did - top-level training/coaching, analysis, etc.

But Neil is probably better tactically, equally good at motivating players and has the experience of being in the firing line but delivering a winning team.

So, maybe the Lennon-Kennedy partnership could work for, say two years, with a view to readying John for the big job.

Shaun Maloney might also be enticed to join, bringing his experience of working with Roberto Martinez.

Why not develop a high-tech "boot room" combining all the elements that a modern club - but identifiably Celtic - needs?

If Neil were to agree to step aside in May 2021, the next man to join the group could be Scott Brown, with the hope of three-to-five successful years under Kennedy to prepare him for the job.

The downsides could be that it would look like "all Lawwell's men" and that these plans are never guaranteed to succeed.

However, I'm convinced that we need the above elements and we are unlikely to recruit someone who brings all of them.

So, to quote a famous advert, "It's a long shot but it might just work."

Borussia Mönchengladbach vs Celtic: Time for Brendan Rodgers's Celts to show they can go from good to great

For a club with our history, there is nothing quite like a night in European competition. 

There is the romance of facing the finest teams from across the continent, with their differing approaches to the game a fascinating contrast against which to test our style and quality of play. 

Not tainted by the disregard that over-familiarity can breed between domestic opponents, the mix of wonder, uncertainty and “what if” makes any European night something to be savoured, especially in the top competition. 

It is also a time for reflecting, for benchmarking ourselves, not just against our European contemporaries but against Celtic teams past. Different clubs from different countries prompt us to recall their own special memories. 

This week’s German opponents naturally bring back memories of their fellow countrymen, against whom Celtic have rarely fared well. And yet we did once enjoy a famous victory against a German team, against the odds. 

The early 1990s was no time for glory-hunters at Celtic Park. As a reaction to
Graeme Souness's success at Ibrox, an increasingly desperate board turned to Liam Brady. 

Brady was thought to fit the bill perfectly, even being compared to Souness in that he had played at the highest level in England, Italy and internationally -- and had no management experience. But he talked a wonderful game. 

SAFE HANS?: No, Bodo

Our first European outing under Brady had seen the team thrashed by Neuchatel Xamax and Brady's time had been marked by some swaggering performances against smaller teams before usually collapsing in the big games. 

Brady didn't have as much money to spend as Souness had but he managed to squander most of it, anyway. So, when we lost 2-0 to 1. FC Cologne in the first round, first leg of the UEFA Cup, there seemed to be a depressingly familiar feeling. 

We didn't give up because we were Celtic and to do so was anathema to us. So, we looked for what crumbs of hope we had, invoked the spirits of great Celtic heroes of the past for strength, and steeled ourselves for the challenge ahead. 

I was working in a pub at the time and, that day, two young German fans came in. 

We politely discussed the first leg and anticipated the second until one of them tired of the pleasantries. 

He stopped conversing in English and started making insulting-sounding comments in German, much to the embarrassment of his friend who nevertheless found it impossible not to laugh. 

This went on for some time with the meaning becoming increasingly clear. According to our Cologne fans, Celtic were sh*t and they were going to win easily. 

I bit my tongue, as I was working until 6pm and dreaded the bar chat from each new customer who wanted to talk about the game. 

Usually, I would have welcomed the chance to prove them wrong, pride coming before a fall and the gods of football dictating that crowing too loudly before a game was as good a sign of an imminent crash as a brash pre-match quote pinned on the dressing room wall. 

But I became increasingly unsettled, not least because this was one of the few times in which I hadn't been able to get a ticket for the Jungle but would take my place in what we still called the "Rangers End", in those days of binary choices. 

When my shift finished, it was my usual ritual of walking to the ground in my black brogues (I could go at a fair lick in those days) scoffing a sausage, black pudding, haggis or fish supper on the way, smarting from the uncomfortable afternoon I had endured and conjuring as much hope as I could muster. 

In the ground, however, there was that particular atmosphere that sometimes had a special flavour of optimism. The singing, swaying crowd seemed to be instilling confidence in each other. 

HEY, LITTBARSKI! Show us your medals

I remember lamenting the fact that I had chosen that night to be unable to get into the jungle but chastising myself with a reminder that I was lucky to be there – I felt that way every time. There was also that sense that the people around me felt we were going to pull something off. 

Cologne were a formidable team. Not at the highest level of European competition but boasting the likes of Bodo Illgner in goal –a West German international who would go on to play for Real Madrid until one Iker Casillas took over. 

They also had the wonderfully talented Pierre Littbarski, by then 32, who had 73 West German caps to his name. 

Whatever the Celtic fans were feeling must have transmitted itself to the players because the Celtic team that night started with a sense of purpose and belief – as if a statement to fans and opponents alike that "this is our home and nobody comes here to push us around".

The qualities of Cologne were still evident but Celtic were calling on the best traditions of attacking football and old-fashioned guts – hungry for the ball, using it with belief – with no question of shirts “shrinking to fit inferior players”.
My view of the first goal was poor – a wonderful left-foot strike by the imperious Paul McStay.

The second came from Gerry Creaney, a fact that I didn’t even know until after the game, believing that it had come from John Collins. Creaney had diverted Collins's shot in but the noise of the crowd often drowned out the stadium announcer.

At 2-2, we were level on aggregate but a Cologne goal would surely have sunk us.

Having been at Celtic Park on that infamous night when we scored five goals against Partizan Belgrade – but conceded four to go out of the tournament – that was a situation to fill me with concern.

Yet my fellow fans were having none of it – we were going through and I wasn’t going to question them. In fact, I’m sure I must have heard the familiar cry of encouragement: “This mob are sh*te!” (Which they assuredly were not).

11 minutes from the end, I had cause to thank the fates that had allowed me to view Collins lashing home the third. (It was Collins’s night – make no mistake about that.) It was met with a rapture all too rarely seen in those days.

The kind of eruption that has you shredding your throat with cries of joy, grabbing hold of the nearest fan for embraces and to try to somehow stay on your feet as the surge of the crowd sent your feet stumbling over terracing steps.

Joyful arms whacking you in the face, the adrenaline too high for you to properly feel it and the rapture so great that you wouldn’t just forgive it but welcome a bruised reminder of the moment preceding its infliction.

One more goal from Cologne? It was never going to happen. Everyone in the ground knew it.

However fine their players were, they were butterflies in a storm and we were thunderous and electric. The final whistle was more of a herald’s trumpet: “Hey, Europe, never, EVER, write off Celtic!”

It was a moment to dive into and swim in, arms flailing, body battered by the tumultuous waves of fellow Celtic fans to whom these nights were becoming all too rare.

What could you do but roar until the strains of the Celtic Song called you into a choir, your vocal chords savaged but your heart and lungs pumping it out anyway.

Men too proud to cry, bellowing all the louder and more ferociously lest anyone think they were “having a moment”.

This was what you lived for. To show the world that, on your night, you were a match for anyone. Disrespect us at your peril because, even when we’re down, we’re still Celtic.

When we eventually filed through the exits, I knew where I was going. Back to the pub to enjoy the glory, hopefully catch the highlights and renew an acquaintance.

Anyone who has made that journey from Celtic Park on foot, along the Gallowgate, down Argyle Street, knows that, on such a night, if you’re fit and able, your strides fairly eat up the ground before you.

I can still feel the cold air punishing my lungs, my hair and face drenched with sweat.

I’ve never been one to openly gloat about victories when with fellow fans, feeling that “rubbing it in” lacked class and was unnecessary. But, perhaps what had bothered me most was that I had always had the utmost respect for German football, as I do now.

When some commentators were calling it “efficient”, “clinical”, even “boring”, I was watching teams that seemed to apply values of doing things the right way – being tactically astute, fit and strong, but emphasisng technique and practised patterns that could produce the most incisive football.

So, maybe my uncomfortable afternoon smarted more because my antagonist was a supporter of a German team.

Whatever, they were already in the bar, both humble and chastened this time, when I ordered a Lowenbrau and asked them what they had thought of the game. There were muttered answers saying very little. “And what do you think of Celtic now? Do you think we’re any good?”

No answer was necessary. The afternoon had been theirs, but the evening was mine.

More than two decades later, Celtic played an excellent Borussia Mönchengladbach team which fully deserved their 2-0 victory at Celtic Park.

They played with style, class and courage, drawing on the atmosphere, instead of being shocked or cowed by it as so many teams have been in the past.

Their fans also made a lot of friends due to their passionate support of their team while displaying a spirit towards their opponents that has, I suspect, engendered a fondness for their club that will endure.
Celtic face a huge task on Tuesday. But this is what we are made for.

We have a good team and some excellent players. We know that we are not where we want to be and Brendan Rodgers says as much at every opportunity.
We are not a “great” team. Yet.

But one of the markers of a team that can develop to greatness is its ability to exceed expectations.

To refuse to accept any wisdom that says what they can’t do on any given night. There could be no better time for Celtic to pass the first of those tests towards that goal than on Tuesday.

Borussia Mönchengladbach are, in my opinion, a far better team than the Cologne side we faced in 1992. On the other hand, when I look through the Celtic players from that time, only McStay, Collins and arguably Boyd would have got into our current first eleven.

As Pep Guardiola noted after our 3-3 draw, Celtic players wear the shirt knowing they are expected to win every week.

In its own way, the task facing our winning team of talented players is similar in scale to the one that that team that was on a downward trajectory was presented with, 24 years ago. Good teams do what is expected of them.

Great teams do a bit more – they surprise people, make them sit up and take notice.

We will learn a lot about the heart and courage of our players on Tuesday. Can they exceed expectations?

Can they go to Mönchengladbach on their own ground and show that they are never to be written-off, never underestimated, because they are Celtic and filling a shirt that does not shrink? I believe they can.

Because I believe that the direction this team is going in is to be better than good or very good. The proof of that will be seen on the field of play.

It’s up to the players now to define their own place in our club’s history – good or great.

I can’t wait to see their answer.

Anyone need a Number 2?

Don't ask me - I'm saying nothing!

Amid all the recrimination and justification of all and sundry over Ronny Deila's tenure as Celtic manager, some have pointed to the backroom staff.

Any manager is entitled to an assistant and coaches he can trust. These guys are not just professionals carrying out the training and tactical instructions of the manager but they are also his allies and friends, his extra sets of eyes and ears.

It is vital that he can trust them. When the going gets tough – as it inevitably will, especially at a club with the pressure associated with Celtic, these guys are the rock that the manager will lean on.

Any rebellious player will find himself facing a solid, indivisible phalanx of comrades. Gordon Strachan had Tommy Burns; Neil Lennon had Johan Mjallby and Alan Thompson; Martin O'Neill had John Robertson and Steve Walford, Billy McNeill had Tommy Craig and Frank Connor; Jock Stein had Sean Fallon.

Ronny Deila had the two Johns.

Now, I have no reason to suspect that John Kennedy is anything but a good guy. I just fail to see what he brings to the team. Having a “defensive coach” sounds oh-so-modern, and yet, Celtic often defended abysmally, persisting with a zonal marking system that the players lacked the wit to implement – and rarely appeared to understand.

And, individually, to see Dedryck Boyata running forward, losing the ball, tracking back and pulling a player down was to despair. If John Kennedy couldn't knock that out of him, what the hell was he doing?

But I was reminded recently of Eric Black, when someone touted him as a potential Celtic manager. Black, as some will remember, had a coaching role at Celtic under Wim Jansen. Wim was not the saint he portrayed himself to be but he once curiously dismissed Black as “Brown's man”, referring to the then “Manager”/Football Director Jock Brown.

It was a comment dripping with sinister undertones.

Black is a curious figure, having been appointed as caretaker manager four times in his career, on each occasion taking over from the man he was appointed to assist.

And I can't help thinking of similarities between Black and John Collins. Maybe it's the silky-skilled play they both once demonstrated, maybe it's the fact that they both went to the French league for the best payday they could get, maybe it's just the suntan.

But Collins was widely said to be a divisive figure when manager of Hibs and similar rumours persist around his dealings with Celtic.

I recall when Gordon Strachan was verbally abused by a steward at Pittodrie, having answered back some fans who had been baiting him. Clearly upset, Gordon didn't speak to the press that evening but, instead, Tommy Burns gave the TV interview in as noble and comforting a show of support as anyone could have wished for.

When Mark McGhee refused to shake Ronny Deila's hand, Ronny decided not to take the interviews. And John Kennedy gave what seemed like a professional performance, without any words of support that I read reported.

But where was John Collins? In fact, where has John Collins been at any time when the pressure was on his boss?

Remember, Collins is the one with the Celtic connection, who knows the pressure attached to the club, is familiar with the Scottish game and how the press react.

And Collins should have been the first one standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ronny when the going got tougher than any manager in the Tippeligaen has ever had it.

Perhaps the fact that Norway is a non-EU member meant that Ronny's coaches would have found it difficult to get work permits, as happened when Christian Gross went to Spurs, from Grasshoppers, though Haakon Lunov, Ronny's academic analyst, would have had skills that were not readily available in the UK, allowing him to come.

But some of the pressure on Ronny came from statements like committing himself to winning the treble, which is the sort of comment that anyone who understands the Scottish game would advise against.

Maybe Collins is being hard done by. Maybe he was just too shy to back his manager in the media – and when Kris Commons acted so disgracefully. But I hope that he didn't have the impression that Ronny's failure could have been his opportunity to step into the breach.

If he did, he must be a very disappointed man that Ronny has chosen to see out the season, rather than allowing Collins the chance to show how he could transform the team overnight.

One of the best gifts that the next manager could be given would be vacant positions to fill with his own assistant and coach – and that should happen soon.

Good luck to them both, especially Collins in finding another managerial position. He'll need an assistant. I can't recommend any individual but would it be wrong to hope that his next number two is a hedgehog?
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