While the exit door at Parkhead seems to be jamming a bit lately, the latest departure rumour has Odsonne Edouard, according to pundits’ recent reports, joining Leicester City (much to the dismay of fuming Arsenal fans) for an encore performance with Brendan Rodgers.
And with this news, of course, follows the tsunami of petulant, spoiled naysayers among the Celtic support disparaging Edouard’s phenomenal contribution to the Quadruple-Treble, whether on the wider social media front or even here in this thread in the Celtic Noise forum, with a raft of nonsense discounting his endeavours in the Hoops by focusing solely on this past season.
You know, the 2020/21 season. The season where Edouard was asked to play up front alone most of the time, despite being more successful — as nearly all strikers are — with a second striker to play off of. But let’s not quibble about that, oh spoiled petulant ones, when you can dump on a phenomenal player who can arguably be credited for most of the club’s high points over the last four seasons, right?
The “what-have-you-done-for-me-lately” crowd, in their typical myopic and moronic manner, just want him gone. “He lost interest.” “Couldn’t be bothered.”
You know what? I wanna be Edouard. I still wanna be Edouard. And when he goes to play at Leicester City or wherever he ends up, I will continue to watch him, just as I do former Celts I miss playing in the Hoops, including Kieran Tierney at Arsenal, Moussa Dembele at Athletico Madrid, Scott Sinclair at Preston North End, Mikael Lustig at AIK, and closer to home, the Celts in America: Patryk Klimala, Cameron Harper, and Andrew Gutman at New York Red Bulls, and Lewis Morgan at Inter Miami.
With the exception of Mo Johnston and perhaps Boli Bolingoli — the player who sadly lit the match that ignited last season’s dumpster fire — if you wear the Hoops and play Celtic football, you’ll always be a Celt wherever you go.
Normally, I’d have “One More Thing” to add here, but today I’m going to have to pass. It’s a beautiful day here on the Central California coast and, with nothing burning (so far) and nothing football-wise to watch, I plan to take full advantage of it.
For as long as I live, there are three things I will never understand: First, there’s how gravity works, and then there’s the ending of Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey.” The third is how some people who claim to be Celtic fans still — still — to this day dish out vitriolic rubbish about Kieran Tierney leaving Celtic to play at Arsenal.
It wouldn’t be an issue, but over the weekend, someone on Twitter posted a picture of Tierney’s shin guards that the player posted on Instagram — one a Celtic guard with his Celtic number and the other an Arsenal guard with his current number. This renewed the debate of is he/isn’t he a Celt even though he plays elsewhere.
Let’s end this debate once and for all: Kieran Tierney was, is now, and always will be a Celt.
To even question this is ridiculous. Tierney literally spent two-thirds of his life in the Hoops, signing when he was seven and coming up through the youth program. To see the player he has become is a testament to the Celtic system, as well as a testament to the courage and will of a young player who took all the hammerthrowing SPFL opponents had to offer and played for Celtic while nursing serious, potentially career-ending, injury.
I look in on Arsenal from time to time to see how Tierney is doing. To be honest, Arsenal has always been interesting to me as a casual observer. In addition, I will always think it’s one of life’s great anomalies that both Jeremy Corbyn and Piers Morgan both support the Gunners. There are other things, too, I think are quirky about the North London club, like the “marble” away jersey — who’s idea was that? — or the fact that there’s a news blog related to all things Arsenal called . . . wait for it . . . Arseblog (which, of course has a linked podcast called, ahem, Arsecast).
In fact, this passing interest in Arsenal recently went as far as a visit to the Arsenal store on-line to price a Tierney jersey. To be honest, it was a little above my budget. OK, it was waaaaaaaaaaaay over my budget, and with what I would have spent there, I could have gotten two Hoops jerseys, at least pre-postage overseas.
But I digress.
The fact of the matter remains that when you leave Celtic, Celtic rarely ever leaves you. It’s sort of like Hotel California: You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. And it shows with some of the former players.
Lyon’s Moussa Dembele — incidentally, I don’t seem to remember him getting anywhere near the flak that Tierney got for leaving Celtic — is another player I like to look in on; on social media he is always looking in on the Hoops and praising the Bhoys in Green.
Scott Sinclair at Preston North End? Got him covered, and it looks like he’s settling in with the Lillywhites.
Mikael Lustig — one of my all time favorite Celts who we could really use wearing the Green and White right now — last year had me following KAA Gent until he moved home to Sweden to play for AIK. Anyone who follows me on social media knows how much I miss Constable Lustig, the mad Viking.
The list goes on. Regular readers of this blog know I have been following the MLS exploits of former Celtic winger Lewis Morgan, who was Inter Miami CF’s MVP in their inaugural season. Marian Shved, out on loan to Mechelen, still gets a look-in from time to time, and it was great to see him a few days ago get the winner late in the game. Jozo Simunovic — pointing every skyward after scoring at 67 minutes in the Billy McNeill game — still remains on my phone wallpaper while we wait to see where he ends up.
So the moral of the story is simple: Bhoys will always be bhoys.
First things first: Jonny Hayes is one of those players that makes a club overwhelmingly better by his mere presence. He’s what we call in the U.S. a “lunchpail player,” the kind of player who, without flash or fanfare, shows up to work, clocks in, and goes above and beyond the job asked of him in any given game.
So when he posted an Instagram message saying that he’s moving on, the Celtic faithful rightfully is mourning his departure and wishing him well in his future endeavours. My wish would have been that his “future endeavours” would have been in green-and-white, but . . . .
“Football at times brings tough decisions,” Hayes writes in his post, “so I’d like to thank you for all the support received along the way!”
Most of the memories relayed on social media involve Hayes’ goal against The Rangers™ earlier this season to put the game out of reach, as the picture speaking a thousand words above outlines. That was completely sublime, of course, but there was so much more to Jonny’s contributions to Celtic since he came to the Hoops from Aberdeen.
Hayes will always be remembered for his leave-it-all-out-on-the-pitch style of play, where he gave his all every game. There’s nothing more you can ask of an athlete, and he always delivered. Solid play against Lazio. A potential goal-saving tackle at Rennes. The list is quite long.
But what I like to remember Hayes for — and this seems inconsequential to most — is how that brand of play was typified in his throw-in at Hamilton back in February that led eventually to the 2-1 winner by Christopher Jullien. Hayes literally vaulted the signage on the Hamilton sideline, retrieved the ball, quickly threw in to Callum McGregor, who passed it back to Hayes, and then Hayes passed forward to Ryan Christie, who crossed it to Jullien, who put it in the back of the net.
There I was, laying in bed on Sunday morning looking up at the red 3:45 on the alarm clock. The internal alarm clock always says, “Get up, it’s game day” at this time, despite the fact that 5,000 miles away, the game is starting in another four hours.
I turn, lie awake and then try closing my eyes, begging my system for a few extra hours of sleep. No such luck, it’s game day.
So, I’m up. Today’s game is like no other this season — the Scottish League Cup, which now as a first name, Betfred, thanks to sponsorship– being played between the club like no other versus the club that really shouldn’t even exist.
Shower, suit up, coffee, and let’s put on the F.C. St Pauli game before sunrise to pass the time (sadly, they lost, and generally they’re having a pretty mediocre season so far). Breakfast? No. Too nervous to eat. Coffee, black, will have to do for now.
By my count, the game was 96 minutes and 47 seconds of abject terror and unmitigated aggravation until the final whistle. You’ve all read the game reports by now, no doubt, and naturally here’s The Sandman’s ratings for the game which, as always, are worth a read. But as usual, I have five takeaways from the Betfred Scottish League Cup final, which Celtic won 1-0 over The Rangers™ as follows:
1. Sign Fraser Forster right now
Oh. My. God. If anyone deserves a statue right now, it’s Fraser Forster. It could be simple: Not a statue of the man, arms aloft, awaiting a corner, but just a brick wall in front of a goal mouth. Simple and quick. His play today was the stuff of which legends are made. That said, like signing Neil Lennon the day after the Treble Treble, Peter Lawwell needs to open the tin and get Fraser Forster signed as a Celt right now. I don’t care if it is past 11 p.m. in Scotland as I write this, wake them both up, offer The Wall a king’s ransom, and keep him in the Hoops. The icing on the cake in Sunday’s game, or the jelly with the ice cream, was Forster’s fantastic save on El Muffalo’s non-penalty penalty. Poetic justice and karma came together and were wrapped with a nice bow.
If Lawwell balks, let’s start a GoFundMe to raise money to sign Forster. I will even put my car up for sale and donate the money. I would gladly use public transit exclusively if it meant keeping the kind of goalkeeping that Forster provides game in and game out for Celtic.
2. Jullien utilise son pied, pas sa tête
Irony. It’s when Christopher Jullien spends much of his time using his height advantage to try to score headers game after game after game this season, only to hit the back of the net Sunday with a flick of his right foot for the only goal in the game. And it was a beauty. What adds to it is the wailing and gnashing of teeth by The Rangers™ complaining that he was offside through their tears. He wasn’t. You see, cheating only works one way, The Rangers™ way, and this, my friends, is a perfect example of karma.
3. Morelos so wants to be Edouard
First thing first: A shout-out to Jeremie Frimpong, who was one of the bright spots for Celtic for the better part of 60 minutes or so, until the referee had nothing better to do than red-card him. In fact, there’s one video of Jeremie mixing it up with Alfredo Morelos, and the lad is not backing down. Pure Celtic, that Jeremie.
But wait, look at that video again. What’s that on Morelos’ hand? Does he have his hand taped up like . . . hmm, which other striker in Scotland has a hand injury and has his hand taped up? Poor Alfredo, so far from God and so close to Celtic, against whom he has yet to score, even when the referees try to help.
4. Some quick math
A quick one for our friends who are mathematically inclined:
10 Celts > 11 Rangers
5. Meanwhile, in the Lustig household …
Before the game, there was a nice post from Josefin Lustig on Twitter about how she and her husband, KAA Gent defender and former Celtic policeman Mikael Lustig, were going to enjoy a day off together and watch the game. Of course, when El Muffalo missed his penalty shot, this was the scene in the Lustig household, which goes to show that Mikael’s heart is still green and white. I still miss the Mad Viking playing for the Hoops, and I don’t care who knows it.
Last, but not least, this is the top candidate for my Christmas card this year (yes, I know “Seasons” needs an apostrophe, but I can fix that later). Thanks, BT Sports!
We had a bad game today, but we still prevailed. That’s why we’re champions. On to Cluj later this week. Hail Hail, all.