There is nothing heroic about acting last. Nothing dignified about being dragged, kicking and screaming, toward the obvious. Yet that is exactly where Celtic’s board now find themselves — exposed, embarrassed, and stripped of the authority they so carefully try to project.
This club was built on urgency and backbone. It was forged by people who understood that leadership means acting before decay sets in, not after it has poisoned everything. What supporters have witnessed instead is a hierarchy paralysed by its own indecision, hiding behind statements while the standards of Celtic Football Club bled out in full view.
The collapse under Wilfried Nancy did not happen overnight. It was slow, loud, and painfully predictable. Performances deteriorated. Results spiralled. Confidence evaporated. And still the board chose denial. Public backing was offered not as conviction, but as cowardice — a refusal to admit they had made a mess of it.
Then came the inevitable humiliation.
Only after another disastrous defeat, only after the atmosphere became toxic beyond repair, did panic finally reach the boardroom. Suddenly, urgency appeared — not because values were threatened, but because credibility was gone.
Michael Nicholson, a chief executive already struggling to command respect, reportedly went to Dermot Desmond with a blunt message that should shame everyone involved.
“This cannot go on.”
Those words are not evidence of leadership. They are an admission of failure. A confession that those running Celtic allowed things to rot until embarrassment forced their hand. Weeks too late. Damage already done.
Even more damning is what followed. Paul Tisdale, the recruitment figure who championed Nancy’s appointment, was quietly removed — swept aside without explanation, without accountability, without a single word to supporters. A silent acknowledgment that the plan was a disaster, paired with the familiar Celtic board instinct to avoid responsibility.
Mark Guidi, speaking on Go Radio, unintentionally delivered the most humiliating verdict of all.
“Michael Nicholson has taken a lot of criticism,” he said. “But he was the driving force in going to Dermot Desmond and saying something had to change.”
Read that again. The “driving force” acted only when failure became impossible to hide. That is not bravery. That is survival instinct.
The return of Martin O’Neill, with Shaun Maloney alongside him, reeks of damage control. A retreat into nostalgia. A borrowed credibility designed to calm a furious support while the same people who caused the mess remain comfortably in place.
This is the part that should enrage every Celtic supporter.
The board did not lead. They stalled.
They did not protect standards. They diluted them.
They did not listen. They waited until they had no choice.
And now they want credit for finally pulling the plug on a situation they allowed to spiral.
This was not decisive leadership. It was a humiliating surrender to reality.
Celtic’s board were not ahead of the curve. They were crushed beneath it.
And until that truth is confronted, the club will remain vulnerable — not because of managers or players, but because of a leadership that acts only when failure screams louder than denial.
