The faith is being tested now.
For years, Martin O'Neill has been the man Celtic supporters trusted to drag them through turbulence, to turn panic into purpose. But after a bruising week that brought a hammering at Ibrox and another three-goal concession to Ferencvaros, that trust is straining.
This doesn’t feel like a blip. It feels like something heavier.
From swagger to shambles
Celtic were supposed to respond in Europe. Instead, they folded again.
The familiar failings were all there: careless giveaways in midfield, defenders caught square and static, a team allergic to tempo. The basics of pass and move – the foundation of any serious side – looked beyond them. The ball moved slowly, the players slower, the ideas not at all.
At 3-1 down, there were brief attempts at a rally. Shots from distance, hopeful rather than planned. Nothing built on pressing or coordinated runs, nothing that resembled a team with a clear attacking pattern. Just individuals trying their luck from range.
It is a long way from the Ange Postecoglou era, when Celtic played like a storm. That side lived on the edge – relentless pressing, brave passing, constant movement, defenders dragged into places they hated. This version is a pale copy, stripped of its aggression and imagination.
This is not a dip in form. It’s an identity crisis.
Echoes of old failures
Scottish football can flip quickly, and the Old Firm rematch at Celtic Park on Sunday still hangs in the balance. Home advantage, wounded pride, the law of reaction – they all offer Celtic some hope.
But their recent body of work is grim. Five goals conceded to LASK. A desperate outing at Ibrox. Now this limp collapse to Ferencvaros.
There were ugly flashbacks in the stands and on the pitch. Supporters have seen this movie before: Cluj and Copenhagen in 2019 and 2020, the nights when Bayo and Bolingoli became shorthand for a muddled era; Sparta Prague in 2020, with Klimala, Ajeti, Duffy and Laxalt symbolising a side that had lost its way.
This felt like those Legia Warsaw and Maribor nights too – the energy drained, the crowd furious, the team clueless. Boos rang out. Heads dropped. The sense of a club reliving its worst European habits was impossible to ignore.
A manager short on answers
O'Neill cut a subdued figure afterwards. He spoke of frustration, failure, psychological damage, of how these nights hit hard and test character. He promised Celtic would “get ourselves together” for Rangers, but the words lacked force. His voice carried the weight of the performance: heavy, tired, flat.
He listed the shortcomings. He did not sound like a man who knew exactly how to fix them.
This is the same manager who restored order to chaos only last season, who turned a fractured squad into champions, who rebuilt confidence and resolve. Under him, Celtic became rugged and relentless. They might not always have dazzled, but they were brutally hard to beat. On the run-in to the title, nobody managed it.
That defiance feels strangely distant now.
Numbers that tell a harsher story
The night against Ferencvaros even started reasonably. Celtic had the ball, some territory, a semblance of control. Then came the soft concession. One lapse, one cheap goal, and the doubts flooded back.
They responded with a flash of quality to draw level, but the old bad habits returned almost immediately. Safe passes. Sideways possession. Little zeal, almost no fire. A team going through motions rather than imposing itself.
The goal they gave away before half-time was the sort that exposes a fragile side. No conviction in attacking the loose ball. Weak resistance to the cross. Confusion and poor organisation in the box. It was the kind of sequence you see from teams who don’t truly believe in what they’re doing.
Celtic had 62.5% possession in the first half. They still trailed 2-1. The statistic that mattered most was on the scoreboard.
Up front, Camilo Duran operated through the middle, preferred to Kasper Hogh. He had eight touches in that opening 45 minutes. Eight. In his favoured role, he barely influenced the game. The forward who recently looked energised by life in Glasgow now seems a ghost of himself.
Hogh’s decline is even more stark. This is a striker who scored against Man City (twice), Atletico Madrid, Inter Milan, Sporting, Porto, Jagiellonia and Olympiacos (three) for Bodo Glimt. In that environment he was sharp, ruthless, alive in the box.
In Glasgow, he looks like a different player: awkward with his back to goal, heavy in his first touch, starved of service and confidence. He has scored in just one of his eight Celtic appearances. For an £11m signing, that is a glaring problem. O'Neill has not yet found a way to unlock him.
Behind them, Callum McGregor – the constant, the heartbeat, the standard-setter – is drifting. He looks unsure, caught between plugging gaps and trying to drag his team forward. When even McGregor appears lost, alarm bells ring louder.
Arzani’s sting and the Keystone Cops
Given the way Celtic’s week had gone, it almost felt inevitable that Daniel Arzani would score.
He barely made an imprint during his brief spell at the club. Now, wearing Ferencvaros colours, he delivered the night’s most ruthless moment. The move exposed Celtic in brutal fashion on the counter-attack. Their shape disintegrated, their recovery runs panicked and uncoordinated.
Colby Donovan had over-committed in attack and then sprinted back in vain. Arzani found himself in acres of space on the left, unhurried and unmarked. He waited, picked his spot, and whipped a superb strike into the top corner.
It was simple. It was clinical. It was damning.
There was more structure in a slapstick chase scene than in Celtic’s defensive transition. The image of green and white shirts scrambling, too late and too disjointed, summed up their night.
Broken pieces before Rangers
O'Neill now has days – not weeks, not months – to find answers. His team lack conviction, composure, physical presence, mental strength, creativity and a ruthless streak. They look short of belief and shorter still of ideas.
The manager himself appears drained of inspiration. His career is built on comebacks and revivals; you almost instinctively wait for him to conjure another. But the scale of the repair job this time is obvious.
McGregor admitted the team is “a little bit broken” right now. That is an honest diagnosis and a worrying one.
Across the city, Rangers will sense opportunity. They have already inflicted one heavy blow at Ibrox. Now they face a Celtic side wounded, uncertain and under pressure in their own stadium. They will fancy landing another punch.
Celtic, though, have been here before – on the brink, questioned, doubted. Sometimes a derby becomes more than a fixture. Sometimes it becomes a verdict.
On Sunday at Celtic Park, we find out whether this is just a stumble in the title race, or the moment the balance of power in Glasgow truly starts to shift.
