Deila's Lions

He's back.

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything constructive about Celtic. In fact, it was the last time Celtic crashed ignominiously out of Europe thanks to our royal thumping from Juventus in 2013. It’s two years later, and Celtic have comprehensively transformed. Out of our starting eleven Brown, Izaguirre, and Matthews, are all that remain from the squad we justifiably venerated for gliding through the media’s favourite idiom, THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE GROUP OF DEATH. Our transfer policy has, this January excepted, seemingly altered, favouring the economically prudent if frustratingly unambitious preference for loan-with-option-to-buy deals to the Moneyball risk of buying young rough diamonds. Obviously, the most dramatic change has been in our manager, and consequently our footballing values. The decision to hire Ronny Deila was understandably hailed at the time as an extension of that Moneyball strategy; he was mostly unknown and, to employ the deplorable rhetorical position of Premier League championers, untested in a truly high pressure environment. Yet, similarly to our successful Moneyball players like Forster, Hooper, van Dijk and Ki, a superficial flurry of research revealed indications of possible greatness. His unprecedented win of the Norwegian league with the provincial side Stromgodset in 2013, which a Norwegian journalist compared to Kilmarnock winning the SPFL, attested to his ability in smashing through the glass ceilings which the purely financial hegemony of modern football so determinedly keeps unbroken. His infamy for developing young players to achieve well beyond their potential, and from plying out the best out of truthfully average players, endeared also. Above all else he explicitly, on and off the field, proclaimed his thirst for attacking football. Passing football, pressing football, running football, goals football. He, without realising it, had articulated the Celtic way. On paper, we were a perfect match.

However, Ronny’s Celtic career started… poorly, shall we say. We were inconsistent domestically, allowing Hamilton to top the table; we were inundated with hapless, PL-reject loan signings who’ve made as much of an impact at Celtic Park as a shoehorn; and we humiliatingly tumbled out of the CL qualifiers… twice. It appeared that the players weren’t willingly buying into Ronny’s system, or lacked the fitness and skill to do so, and that the board were so uncertain of Ronny’s tenure that they didn’t spend a penny until the final day of the transfer window. The media, propelled by a few best-remained-nameless ex-players, and some groups of Celtic fans, were calling for his head after two months. It looked like Ronny was more Mo Bangura than Victor Wanyama. But, even then, at the risk of sounding a self-righteous, I-told-you-so, I-always-believed, twat, I saw signs of something beautiful. Every third of fourth game, it just clicked, and we were breathtaking. A fully fit Craig Gordon and Stefan Johansen, the eponymous Deila player, held together a team that was gradually learning, especially in the Europa League group stages. The indications of real progress began in Winter. Over December and January we were visibly fitter, more confident, and more organised, and were winning dependably. This is now a Celtic team with the fortitude and self-belief to win every match they play. The board were evidently as impressed by these developments as the fanbase were, and this January saw Commons sign a new contract, two fantastic – and cheap – acquisitions from Dundee United in Armstrong and Mackay-Steven (being young, hard-working, level-headed, domestic players they represented the archetypal Deila signing) and not a single (decent) player was sold. The transfer window was a corroboration of the optimism which surrounded the club. It seemed the board were finally backing Deila’s vision for New Celtic. And then last night happened.

He's just so captivatingly handsome.

Okay let’s get the negatives out the way first. All three goals were defensive calamities and I experienced agonising flashbacks to Deila’s September/October Celtic. They were mistakes uncharacteristic of our current form, and it felt momentarily like we had regressed after such monumental improvement. It was just typical that arguable POTY Craig Gordon was at fault for two of them. But these things happen, and Gordon’s honesty about it, and the fans’ response in singing his name, was inspiring.

Now, to the good stuff. Relative to most, I’m green as hell to supporting Celtic. Being twenty, my oldest memory of experiencing fanhood was my wearing a 02/03 era away kit with Larsson on the back. But this is the most confident, self-assured, and offensive, Celtic side I’ve seen. After our excellent first goal, (what composure from Matthews) we played some scintillating football. We outplayed Inter, who relied, admittedly rather effectively, on the pace of Shaqiri and Palacio on the counter. Medel and Guarin couldn’t handle the tenacity of Brown or the languid poise of Biton in the middle of the park, and our attacking midfielders ran their back four absolutely ragged. How exciting is it to see young Scottish talent casually take on Italian and Argentinian internationals, and absolutely rinse them? The second half was even better, if even more exasperating. We pounded them, having chance after tormenting chance, but yet we remained unflappable. Under pressure we kept the ball, passed it back to Denayer/van Dijk/Gordon and simply started again. No longer did we hoof it and hope, we were buoyant enough to remain calm and play our natural game. And it obviously paid off, with that wonderful equaliser from Guidetti, and that possibly even better pass from still 18 Liam Henderson. What swagger from Ronny to bring Henderson on by the way. Six months ago we would have completely capitulated against that Inter team after going 2-0 down. There’s no question in my mind about that. That ninety minutes was the perfect microcosm to convey our progress. And all this without mentioning how incredible a game it was for football’s sake. The neutral would love it, though I was too stressed and exhausted to take much notice. But do you know what my favourite part of last night was? We started five Scottish players, who all played their heart out for a jersey that, GMS aside, does not purvey any childhood emotional attachment. That’s the direction I want my Celtic to go. It doesn’t matter if they’re Celtic fans, but if we have homegrown Scots who buy into our manager’s ideals and our club’s ethics, then I’m in heaven.

Deila has, in just six months, transposed a dysfunctional group of ragtag mercenaries, timid youngsters, and vexing Lennon favourites, into lions. As Derek Rae commented after Guidetti’s goal, this side evoked the passion and desire of the last side to beat Inter in European competitions. Can’t quite remember their name. If he’s done all that in six months, regardless of what happens next week in Milan, I can’t bloody wait to see what we’re like come the Champions League qualifiers in July.