View From The Wing- Celtic 2 Donetsk 1

There is some questions that need to be answered being a Celtic fan. Like when will those road works on the M80 ever end? Will the guys on ma bus ever turn up on time for us to have a decent chance of getting through the road works, then go through the joke that is the electronic turnstiles, which were meant to help congestion but only cause more, for me ever to see the blanket waving?

And finally, is the fabled Celtic European night just made up of fickle fans who are quite happy to leave 10 mins before the end- I stay to the end and still make ma local fast food outlet before it shuts for Chicken pakora, lads- after spending 90mins abusing the panto villain that is Gary Caldwell?

What a difference a miss-hit and deflected shot makes to the atmosphere and the views of the leaving hoards. A draw in Milan was “nae problem” and the fact that an inept display was served up, which highlighted oor limitations, but one that produced a victory that was more satisfying than a decent performance and a victory was forgotten.

The reason it was more satisfying? Well, we never have the luck others of having a terrible performance, wie many having an off night, and getting a result. We are either great or terrible, we don’t do in-between.

Last night was the later, right maybe not terrible but poor, but oor “lucky” tag ,an unjustified tag, c’’mon we were camped in their half for the second period wie not much success, right enough, came home to bite a greeting faced Romanian coach on his arse.

Their coach proved to be a wily old fox. His choice to put, the other pain in oor collective arses, Brando, a player who loves playing against us, on their left handside meant that McGeady was doubled upped on regularly, until the second period when Brando chucked in his defensive shift, and Caldwell was rendered useless as an attacking option on the managers behest.

Caldwell, as GS points out, was asked to play deeper to nullify Brando. That didnae stop him becoming the panto villain of the piece. Constantly barracked for following his managers instructions and barracked for the, crimes of crimes, deciding to keep the baw by playing the simple baw.

The abuse of players is one thing that is constant regarding oor support. Caldwell and JiriJaro, another decent performance from the big man but I get the feeling he could do so much more and his heider was easier to score than miss, he was too cute, a lesser player would have shut his eyes and let the baw hit of his heid, get abused, while others get away wie murder. Step forward Mo Mo Massimo Donati.

Could have been Mo Mo Massimo is a tattie. If JiriJaro is infuriating then this boy is as infuriating as waiting in the telephone queue to speak to the Celtic ticket office. He was meant to be a “regista” but he just disnny do enough. Loses the baw easily, looks off the pace of the game and looks like he has been dropped from outer space onto the pitch. But...mate yer a star, i sang yer name wie gusto at the final whistle as I am a fickle beast. He is one to preserver wie though.

Poor performance, yes. One that was full of fitness and heart but lacked finesse. The game was a stop start affair, wie a ref who thought any contact between players was outlawed and Donetsk players willing to use this to their advantage.

In fact all those elements, poor performance, dodgy ref, players collapsing like Amy Winehouse after a night oot and only one team trying to win the game, meant is was as a scrappy affair you will ever see under the floodlight crackle of a European night.

But, the heart we showed after the set backs of losing two defenders in the first 40 mins was acceptable for me being a fan. Technically we were poor but i canny say we lacked effort. Despite, Paul Hartley looking nuthin but a right footed midfielder at left back he gave his all, add to that mix a Scott Brown who in spells give a drive and energy, plus a Aiden McGeady who tormented a rat in the second half to great effect.

Last night summed up Celtic. Unpredictable, but bloody enjoyable in the end. The place rocked and rolled for a good 10 minutes after the final whistle and a good 15 after the early leavers decided they have seen enough. The place ootside was bouncing, people meeting pals, for their lifts hame, jumping, screaming and hugging each other- pity that only reinforced the feeling that we are only the greatiest fans in the world when we are winning- then saying “How lucky were we” and “at least Dick Turpin wore a mask”.

Last night, the objective of European fitba’ after Santa empties his sack was achieved. What competition is up for grabs. Draw, in Milan....nae probs, hell, we will win wie a Gary Caldwell screamer.....

Forza