Cock a hoops

We’ve all been there. You spend ages raving enthusiastically to a friend about a book/album/movie you like, describing it in terms akin to Ulysses or the Sistine Chapel ceiling, and repeatedly telling them, ‘You’ve got to hear this.’ And then when they do finally get to read/hear/see it, they stare into space, arch an eyebrow, and ask, ‘Is that it?’

I felt a bit like that, watching Celtic floundering around like lost souls against Blackburn in the UEFA Cup.

I’d been praying all week that Celtic would hand out a savage beating to Rovers, not only to enrage the pitiable Souness, but to prove once and for all that they can hold their own against what the Premiership has to offer. Not only that, I’d been telling anyone who’d care to listen that they would. While not wishing to condemn them for one poor performance, they picked a hell of a time to deliver it.

There are any number of explanations for Celtic’s abysmal display. One is that Blackburn, a fairly decent side in very good form at present, didn’t let them settle. Another is that Celtic’s 3-5-2 formation can allow for one of the central midfielders (Petrov, Lambert, Lennon) having a bad game, but not all three, which is what happened against Blackburn.

Take my word for it, because I’ve watched them enough times in Europe to know, Celtic are not the team of slapdash and unimaginative donkeys we saw last Thursday. If they were, they’d never have amassed such an excellent home European record under O’Neill, beating Juventus, Valencia, Porto, Rosenborg and FC Basel – an impressive list to which can now be added the name of Blackburn, however fortuitously.

Though they weren’t as dominant as some reports suggested, Blackburn kept the ball better than they normally do in the Premiership, and despite not creating that many real chances, a 2-0 win wouldn’t have particularly flattered them.

It took Henrik Larsson, answering the call on the big occasion for the umpteenth time, to deny that tosser Souness a successful return to the stadium where he disgraced himself on so many occasions.

Souness has tried to reinvent himself as a kinder, gentler, cuddlier gaffer since his days at Rangers, Liverpool and Galatasaray. Some of us, though, have memories too long to fall for it.

This is the guy who screamed blue murder at the St Johnstone tea lady after his side had lost at McDiarmid Park. The guy who would always pin up a picture of the Queen in the away dressing-room at Celtic Park before Rangers played there.

And Souness’ pathetic pre-match deriding of Larsson – he rubbished the Swede’s goalscoring records and 2002 World Cup performances – saw his shiny new mask slipping.

It also emerged during the week that he had wanted his Ibrox successor, Walter Smith, to sit on the Rovers team coach as it travelled to Celtic Park. (Smith, of course, said no thanks.) Which is why it was so satisfying to see Celtic thieving a totally undeserved victory.

Maybe, after a frankly vomitous amount of moral victories and hard luck stories, it’s Celtic’s turn to get some breaks in Europe. They’ve spent too many of their recent European assignments playing extremely well and then somehow contriving to lose. Valencia and Juventus last season and both legs of the Liverpool tie in 1997 are only the most glaring examples.

So I speak for all Bhoys fans when I say that I wouldn’t mind a few shite performances from now on, in inverse proportion to the quality of the result. Another dog of a 1-0 win next week will do us just fine, thanks.