There are institutions that live beyond results, beyond managers, beyond fleeting moments of glory or despair. They are built on memory, on ritual, on voices passed down through generations. At Parkhead, history does not sleep. It watches. It listens. And when uncertainty creeps in, the past has a way of speaking louder than the present.
In moments like these, emotion rises faster than reason. Hope turns restless. Loyalty wrestles with impatience. The heart wants reassurance, something familiar to hold on to. And at Celtic, familiarity has a name that still stirs reverence, debate, and longing in equal measure.
That name is Martin O’Neill.
Within the space of a single week, the mood around Celtic has shifted sharply. What once felt like calm direction has given way to unease, as Wilfried Nancy’s tenure begins under the harshest of spotlights. Three matches. Three defeats. A League Cup final loss to St Mirren at Hampden. The numbers are unforgiving, the noise even louder.
O’Neill, the man Nancy replaced, chose restraint where others demanded judgment. His response carried the authority of experience rather than the drama of opinion.
“You have got to give managers chances. You have to give them a chance.”
It was not a defense of results, but of process. O’Neill spoke not as a rival voice from the past, but as someone who understands the brutal mathematics of management. He reflected on his own early struggles elsewhere, reminding listeners that success rarely arrives without turbulence.
He did not ignore the urgency either.
“You just go in and win. You win a game or two. That steadies everything.”
For O’Neill, the solution was not panic, nor nostalgia, but leadership from within. He pointed to the spine of the squad, to players who have lifted trophies and survived pressure before. His message was clear: when the ground shakes, lean on those who know how to stand.
“Sometimes, just lean on the senior players. Get them on your side.”
Callum McGregor, mentioned with obvious respect, symbolized that continuity. A reminder that even in transition, identity still exists in the dressing room.
As for the growing chorus of fans calling for O’Neill’s return, his response was firm but measured. Romance, he implied, should not override fairness.
“You can’t make a judgment on anybody over three games.”
He contextualized the defeats without softening them. Roma away. A top-of-the-table clash with Hearts. A cup final. Tests that would challenge any manager, new or seasoned.
Behind the calm words, however, sat a deeper truth about Celtic itself. This is a club where time is rarely granted freely. Where expectations are inherited, not negotiated. Where every decision is weighed against eras of dominance and belief.
O’Neill understands that better than most.
Nancy, for his part, has spoken of values, history, and responsibility. He knows what the badge demands. What remains unanswered is how long patience will outlast pressure.
For now, the past has offered counsel, not condemnation. But at Celtic, history does not wait forever. It only watches to see who is strong enough to carry it forward.
