Jim Goodwin Goes Nuclear: Celtic’s “Out-Of-Control” Enforcer Sparks Fury as Parkhead Boils Again
There are places where dominance is celebrated, and then there are places where it is imposed without apology. Where noise becomes a weapon, intimidation becomes tradition, and superiority is worn like armour. For generations, this ground has thrived on chaos disguised as control, on intensity sold as identity, and on the idea that anything done in green and white is automatically justified by history.
That belief—unquestioned, unchallenged, and fiercely protected—often blurs the line between authority and arrogance. It fuels victories, but it also breeds moments that leave opponents furious, bruised, and unheard. And when those moments arrive, the reaction is rarely calm. It is explosive, emotional, and impossible to ignore.
That storm erupted again during Celtic’s demolition of Dundee United, a game that ended in celebration for the home crowd but anger and disbelief for those on the receiving end. Martin O’Neill’s return was marked by a four-goal procession, a performance soaked in confidence and swagger, and an atmosphere that dared anyone to object.
Yang Hyun Jun and Arne Engels ripped through Dundee United in the opening half, exposing gaps, overpowering resistance, and setting a tone that felt merciless. Benjamin Nygren and Daizen Maeda finished the job after the break, turning the contest into an exhibition—and leaving little room for sympathy.
Jim Goodwin accepted the scoreline. He accepted Celtic’s quality. What he did not accept was one moment that, in his view, crossed from aggression into recklessness.
Julian Araujo, handed his first start for Celtic, was praised for his energy and commitment. But his first-half tackle on Will Ferry lit the fuse. High, forceful, and brutal, it earned only a booking—and that decision sent shockwaves through the Dundee United bench.
Goodwin did not mince his words.
“That tackle was out of control,” he snapped. “It was reckless, it was dangerous, and it left our player in real pain. The fact it was brushed aside so quickly is unbelievable.”
The Dundee United boss made it clear that Ferry took the full force of the challenge, high on the ankle, and walked away feeling battered rather than protected.
“You expect scrutiny,” Goodwin continued. “But at this place, you start to wonder if certain things are just accepted.”
It was a remark that will sting Celtic supporters—an implication that intensity at Parkhead is often applauded rather than policed. A suggestion that what is called ‘commitment’ in green might be labelled ‘reckless’ anywhere else.
Goodwin went further, pointing to the atmosphere created by O’Neill’s return, describing it as suffocating, hostile, and unforgiving.
“The lift they got was obvious,” he said. “The crowd, the players, everything felt turned up to maximum. It’s relentless here—and if you go behind early, it becomes survival rather than competition.”
He admitted his side defended poorly, particularly for the early goals, but insisted that moments like the Araujo tackle changed the emotional temperature of the match.
For Celtic, individuals shone. Engels ran the midfield with authority. Yang and Tounekti tormented defenders with pace and directness. Maeda prowled with menace. It was dominance, yes—but dominance laced with edge, aggression, and controversy.
Araujo’s performance will divide opinion. To some, it was passion and bite. To others, it was a reminder of how quickly control can tip into chaos when intensity is glorified without restraint.
By full-time, Celtic fans were singing, Dundee United were seething, and Jim Goodwin was furious. The scoreboard showed a procession. The undercurrent told a different story—one of bruises, bitterness, and a growing resentment that this ground demands submission as much as it celebrates success.
At Celtic Park, victories are loud. But so are the scars left behind.
