Celtic Bossgate - when Pat Nevin speaks we should listen to something else

By Donal Glass

Nerves may be jangling but, isn't it reassuring that, amid a summer of wild managerial speculation, we have the calming influence of Pat Nevin to guide us through the murk?

You know Pat: football’s self-appointed intellectual, a man who’s spent the best part of 40 years dining out on having once attended a Half-Man-Half-Biscuit gig.

Pat, who reads Russian literature, went to college, and thinks he discovered Virgil van Dijk while he was already a first-team regular at Celtic.

Pat, the man who dislikes personal publicity and will appear on any sports page TV show or podcast to tell you so.

Pat, who now supports Hibs because, well, that’s what sophisticated football fans do, apparently.

Pat’s also the man touting Damien Duff as the heir apparent to Brendan Rodgers. Of course he is - Duff's left-field, a smart man with an unconventional CV for a Celtic boss

Duff to Celtic is black pepper and balsamic on your strawberries - a weird idea that could actually work but is recommended by people who think you've never heard of it.

Yet while it’s easy enough to dismiss Nevin's unique blend of self-effacing/attention-seeking patter, a darker, murkier cloud looms on the horizon, and that cloud is currently shaped suspiciously like Shaun Maloney.

In saying that, I'm of course being grossly unfair to Shaun, who was a fine player for us, is an excellent coach and is, by all accounts, an all-round good guy.

No, it's not Shaun who's the cloud, it's what his appointment seems to represent.

Shaun is back at Celtic, of course, quietly installed as our shiny new 'Professional Player Pathway Manager' – a title sounding suspiciously like something from a LinkedIn profile of someone desperate to justify their existence.

But there's a nagging fear that Shaun is not just here for youth development; but that his his real purpose may be as Brendan’s stalking horse.

This club's hierarchy have a worrying obsession with continuity, and by continuity, of course, I mean the ease with which a manager can be shown the exit door.

You don’t need to be John le Carré to spot the strategic convenience of Maloney lurking in the background, neatly available "on an interim basis," just in case Brendan dares ask for something genuinely outrageous like, say, control over signings or a transfer budget big enough to actually improve the squad.

Trust me - it's a direct parallel to The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, minus the Communists, the Cold War, the East Germans and Richard Burton. So, yeah, almost the same.

But the sense of duplicity is unmistakable.

And now, former bosses like Martin O'Neill and Gordon Strachan have waded into the discussion, with their “What Dermot wants, Dermot gets” schtick.

Thanks, lads. We’ll send you a postcard when the next managerial meltdown happens.

The truth is, some inside Celtic appear less keen on Brendan Rodgers staying than your uncle Kev at family weddings when the bar switches from a freebie to cash only. They’d prefer us all merrily debating his replacement, rather than backing the manager currently employed to lead the team. Heaven forbid we show some loyalty to the man who brought genuine quality back to Paradise.

Brendan Rodgers is the best chance Celtic have of progressing in Europe and maintaining domestic dominance. And that E-word may be his undoing.

Too many people are still pushing the standard that “in Europe after Christmas” (which currently includes February trips to Northern Macedonia) equates to success.

To Brendan, it doesn't. To Peter and Michael? As the legendary BFDJ was fond of saying in his Evening Times Rangers PR column, I'm not so sure.

Yes, his teeth are suspiciously perfect, and his enthusiasm sometimes borders on motivational speaker territory. And even the methodology of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind hasn't erased that Danny McGrain story.

But Brendan – Tom Ford shoes ‘n’ all – is precisely the manager Celtic need – not another revolving-door appointment for two years until something better comes along.

The board's obsession with ready-made internal solutions like Shaun Maloney and John Kennedy is troubling, and looks to be a clear attempt at undermining Rodgers’ bargaining power, if not a “here's your coat, what's your hurry?” to the best manager we could reasonably get.

Maybe we should all taunt Dermot Desmond, en masse, with banners saying, “I heard you don't get what you want at Celtic,” in a clever ploy to activate the ego that landed Brendan in the first place.

The other options, along with those who tout them, should be dismissed – preferably accompanied by a Half-Man-Half-Biscuit soundtrack.

And leave Pat Nevin to do what he's good at: rambling about Dostoevsky, indie bands and his icky friendship with John Peel.

Everyone has their field of expertise.