Clement cannot understand the way the press has turned on him. His predecessors can.

I’ve talked before about Ange Postecoglou’s first meeting with the Celtic fan media, where one of the very first speakers told him that his only real friends were in that room.

That was probably as accurate as anything else he’d hear that day—or any other day—at Celtic Park. I’ve always thought of fan media as the Praetorian Guard of any Celtic manager.

And it’s crucial that fan media serves as that kind of guard because the mainstream media simply can’t be trusted to stand by a manager under pressure. In fact, they relish it when a manager is struggling. It gives them stories to write, room to indulge in wild speculation, and keeps them busy spinning tales. No one should ever forget this.

Of course, no Celtic manager is truly safe from the press, who have no interest in his well-being. They tried to undermine Ange before November of his first season, and they were already trying to unsettle Rodgers before he’d even unpacked his pencils for his second stint.

Both men saw through the media’s antics and started firing back almost immediately—and both helped to ensure their success by doing so.

But here’s the thing: the real danger posed by the media isn’t to Celtic managers. Managers across the city face their own peril in a different form. This danger is obvious when you look closely—they start out with effusive praise and glowing headlines, and it’s easy for Ibrox bosses to mistake the press for their own Praetorian Guard. You can see how they fall into that trap.

Some of the press coverage and headlines around Gerrard, Van Bronckhorst, Beale, and now this guy go far beyond simple positivity. It’s not just optimism—they’re peddling pure hopeium.

Yesterday, I wrote about this delusion, and it’s more than evident here.

Some of the writing is so over the top it verges on hero worship, the kind of sycophancy that makes you want to be sick. The language is so lavish that you’d think you were reading fawning fanboys gushing over their favourite superheroes. It’s nauseating.

So, you can see how someone used to a more critical, more neutral media environment could walk into this press atmosphere and start believing the hype. They might genuinely start thinking the media exists to serve as their personal cheerleaders. And the number of journalists who go out of their way to ingratiate themselves makes some of these managers think those same journalists will be there when the going gets tough and the path gets rough.

But here’s the kicker: if you know your history—and I think everyone knows how much I love Roman history—the Praetorians were dangerous in their own right. From 41 AD, when they plotted to overthrow Caligula, to 275 AD, when they got rid of Aurelian, they murdered or deposed at least six emperors they were sworn to protect.

In 193 AD, they went so far as to kill two emperors in quick succession. After dispatching Pertinax, they auctioned the emperorship off to the highest bidder—Julianus. When the people grew restless with him and Septimus Severus marched on Rome to claim the throne, they took Julianus out as well and crowned Severus instead. The Praetorians had a reputation for being just as dangerous as any power-hungry general or court intriguer.

Every manager who heads to Ibrox needs to consider that. They need to understand exactly who the mainstream media serves because, like the Praetorian Guard, many of these journalists have their own agendas and loyalties—chiefly to the club at Ibrox.

That’s the lesson Clement doesn’t seem to grasp.

The media isn’t loyal to him; they care only about the club’s fate. If he looks as though he’s helping the club, he’ll be celebrated. But if he appears to jeopardise it, they’ll turn on him in seconds, plunging in daggers from all sides without hesitation.

Lately, he looks genuinely baffled when he faces the press, bewildered by how people who, just months ago, hailed him as a conquering hero are now circling him, waiting for a moment to unsheathe the blades. He can’t quite fathom it. He thought they were on his side—a classic mistake that many Ibrox managers have made before him and paid the price for. No Celtic manager would fall into that trap; they never trust these people, to begin with.

But Ibrox bosses fall for it over and over again, believing that all that initial praise and euphoria signal some kind of bond between them and the press.

It’s naive, to say the least, because the moment they become a liability, the whole facade collapses. Like the Praetorians of old, the media sharpens their swords, scans the landscape for potential successors, and when the time is right, they strike.