‘Reputation is what men and women think of us; character is what God and angels know of us,’ Thomas Paine
Neil Lennon’s celebrations said it all.
This was the moment the title came tantalisingly within grasp. Those first bubbles of the finest champagne are already bursting on the palate.
It is now simply a case of avoiding defeat at home to our nearest challengers on the 31 March and the 8th of the 10 will be in the bag.
Our reputation to grab victory from the jaws of a draw is nailed down but the character of this side is what will claim it’s place in Celtic and Scottish football history.
Today was all about Character.
It’s worrying we get to that stage especially against sides as poor as Dundee but what isn’t worrying is our inner belief, a never say never attitude that is firmly ingrained in the psyche.
Rodgers is gone and yet there has been no discernible change in match approach. Perhaps a little less mincing at the edge of our own area, said mincing has been moved to the edge of the opposition box. Camped in, probing patiently.
We do lack a plan B and our cynics will point to it as a failing. Except it’s not. You only need a Plan B when Plan A is found wanting.
Nearly 3 years in and it hasn’t been.
Rodgers legacy lives on. He always believed if we played the way we do in at least 80% of encounters we’d find a way to source, as water does.
He’s being proved right even in abstentia.
Darren O’Dea, 2009 League cup scorer against the Zombies and current Dark Blues centre half said in the pre-match build up he fully expected to play Brendan’s side, he didn’t expect any changes to the approach. He was right. He had no doubt handed down to his players advance warning and yet as he probably expected there wasn’t much he or his team-mates could do about the inevitability.
Celtic didn’t exactly pepper the goal with furious force, we didn’t thump posts and bars.
What we did was take the stance of the master swordsman. We poked, prodded and we wore them down.
This wasn’t a cut to the throat or a stab to the heart it was death by a thousand cuts.
The final cut won the match but even then it wasn’t a lunge it was a slow, deliberate, patient and utterly inevitable.
Celtic historically have done this. When people talk of the Celtic way they think of Lisbon and of the defeating of the Catenaccio this free flowing attacking football coming in waves, cutting sides down and it is, well it was, but over the years the Celtic way more than ever is simply playing to the final whistle.
My Grandfather was the man who introduced me to the Celtic faith. He was the man who educated me in the ways of Celtic as something more than just football. In behaviour when you are supporting the club, and as Tommy Burns said in a cause.
At the same time however as he regaled me with tales of McGrory, Johnstone and Lennox he mentioned Johnstone, Turnbull, Ormond, Smith and Reilly. The Hibs famous Five, he was as proud of them as a Scotsman as any player who’d graced the Hoops.
The latter Lawrie Reilly scored late goals against Northern Ireland and England in the 1953 British Home Championship, it meant that Reilly earned the nickname of “Last-minute Reilly”. His attitude was the opposition clock watched, especially faced with the force of the famous five.
It was in those last few moments he heightened his senses and hawk eyed waited to pounce. He knew weakness lay there as the clock ran down. Celtic as a club have always taken on this mantel.
Dundee fell into this trap. They defended deeper and deeper. We all knew that when those 6 minutes went up on the board they were praying for a whistle.
Neil Lennon apparently at half time told the players to keep going if it took another 45 or 49 minutes so be it, it will happen. He was right. Not so sure he expected it to be 96 minutes but he was right nonetheless.
The best of sides win ugly apparently, win the points when the team didn’t play well.
Well we did play well and for most of the season we have, we may drop the pace, we may not on occasion move the play quickly enough to be genuinely effective, we may even look like we’re pushing our luck, but when the opposition look to the whistle we look for the net.
As Forrest guided his left peg around to cut back rather than cut across the face of goal. Edourad pounced.
It wasn’t luck. It was a final cut, an execution of a game plan, not just of 90 minutes but of 3 years. ‘Last minute Reilly’ of the Hibs might just have smiled knowingly. Assassins bide their time. My Granda was probably thinking the same.
To return to Thomas Paine
These are the times that try men’s souls.The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection. The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.
Niall J
