The roar of Celtic Park had barely faded before despair set in. History, pride, and passion — all seemed to unravel in one harrowing second half. Rangers had struck like a storm, exposing every weakness, every hesitation, and every fatal flaw in a Celtic side that looked broken, bewildered, and lost. The fans’ anger was palpable, but nobody voiced it with the searing venom of Chris Sutton, whose fury erupted like a tempest, leaving no player or manager unscathed.
Sutton’s words didn’t merely criticize — they scorched. Every touch, every run, every tactical misstep was obliterated under his verbal assault. It was harsh, relentless, and merciless, a reflection of a legacy steeped in expectation and glory that Celtic now seemed to betray.
“Kasper Schmeichel? An absolute shambles! Let Moore stroll past him like he wasn’t even there. That was embarrassing. Celtic deserve a goalkeeper who commands the box, not someone trembling under pressure!”
Yang, the fleeting spark in Celtic’s chaos, came under brutal scrutiny. “He ran, he tried, but defending? He looked invisible when Chermiti struck. One moment of attacking brilliance doesn’t hide the fact that he was torn apart defensively. Not good enough — never!”
Anthony Ralston and Auston Trusty were mercilessly dissected. “Ralston? A spectator at best, a liability at worst. Trusty? Missed a sitter that could have changed everything, then got bullied like a schoolboy. Celtic don’t have room for players who crumble under pressure!”
The midfield and attack were no safer from Sutton’s wrath. “McGregor? Lost the game mentally as much as physically. Engels? Invisible. Nygren? Running but achieving nothing. Maeda? A flash, a blur, a waste. Kenny? Movement without impact, wasted chances piling up. They all failed when it mattered most — every single one!”
Even the substitutes were condemned as irrelevant. “Araujo, Yamada — two minutes at 3-1 down? What’s the point? This isn’t development; it’s surrender in slow motion!”
And Wilfried Nancy — the eye of the storm. Sutton’s contempt cut deep: “The manager? Where is he? Lost the plot completely! Tactics in tatters, mentality broken, team clueless. Celtic football deserves a leader, not a fumbling amateur stumbling through a disaster!”
“This wasn’t just a defeat — it was humiliation, it was obliteration, it was a betrayal of everything Celtic Park stands for!”
Sutton’s scathing tirade mirrored the fans’ anguish, turning frustration into fire. Every error, every lapse, every faltering decision was spotlighted, leaving no shelter, no escape. Celtic had been laid bare, their pride shredded, their manager exposed — and Sutton made sure the world knew it.
