Changing formations is all the rage. The Celtic boss needs to try it.

If you weren’t convinced before last night that Steve Clarke deserves to stay as Scotland manager, nothing you witnessed in their game against Liechtenstein would have changed your mind. It was a terrible game.

It was a 4-0 win, but what else do you expect when you’re playing one of the lowest-ranked teams on the FIFA circuit? I don’t know what the population of Liechtenstein is, but it’s probably less than you’ll find in the average mid-sized UK city.

In the run-up to the game, there was all sorts of talk about what Steve Clarke had to do in it. He had to do nothing. Steve Clarke should not have taken Scotland into this game at all. Bottom line: Clarke is a proven failed manager.

Scotland will get no better while he’s in charge of the national team. The idea that he still has something to offer is pretty ludicrous.

The one thing he did offer last night was a change in formation. He played two up front for once, but against an opponent like that? There’s no risk in it. So, I wouldn’t count on seeing that formation ever again.

What we wouldn’t have given to see that approach in Germany, in that final qualifying game, when we needed a win—and he was content to play out the most boring match I think I’ve ever watched.

Clarke doesn’t have confidence in himself or his team to play that formation against more formidable opponents.

So, it wasn’t about learning experiences. It wasn’t about a teachable moment. It was simply Clarke taking a chance because the team posed no threat to us. I place no great store in it as any sort of experimental breakthrough.

But this thing—this changing of formations—is all the rage these days. The Ibrox club did it under Clement when it became clear he was on the way out and that only a change in system might give him any shot at salvation. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. A couple of English writers pointed out that Ange, one of football’s great purists, also altered his formation this season, in the Europa League semi-finals and in the final. Anyone who watched that final—and I had that misfortune—will know it was a dreadful game, with none of Ange’s usual attacking football on display.

He’ll say, “So what? It got the job done,” and he’d be right.

But like Clement, it didn’t save him.

So, there you have three examples of managers breaking faith with their much-heralded style of play. The current Ibrox boss got a bad rep at Southampton for being one of those managers who sticks rigidly to a tactical system even as it drives him off a cliff.

Much the same could have been said about Ange, of course, at Spurs. It’s how he got into trouble. No manager wedded to a single system will ride it out indefinitely. Bad things will happen. It’s inevitable.

The examples I just gave—Clarke doing it for a feel-good moment when there was no risk involved, Clement and Ange doing it to win headlines and affection from the boardroom—are all about managers trying to claw back momentum. That’s when you most often see a tactical change—from a gaffer in a hole, desperate to dig his way out. And very, very rarely does it work. Most often, it just leaves already demoralised players feeling confused as well. And that’s not a great combination.

It reeks of desperation. And to me, that’s what Clarke’s tactical change last night suggested. Desperation—especially as I know we’ll probably never see two up front for Scotland again while he’s in charge.

But wouldn’t it be something, Wouldn’t it be a sight to see, if a team change its formation while it’s on top? When it’s winning?

Then a change in formation looks like an act of brilliance. Not born out of desperation at all, but as a bulwark against complacency, against opponents who think they’ve figured you out. Then it looks like strategy. Then it looks like foresight. Like a manager determined to keep his team at the top.

And of course, everyone knows where I’m going with this. I’m talking about our own manager. I’m talking about the need to change the system. I’m talking about the need to have a Plan B. But not just a Plan B. Maybe a change in system is what this team needs to freshen things up. To give it life again. To inject some energy into it. To shake people out of their comfort zone.

There’s an old saying that’s been going around American football for years. It’s often attributed to Bill Parcells, although there’s no proof he actually said it. The saying goes: “The toughest task in football is being the guy in the losing locker room at halftime in the Super Bowl, trying to decide whether to throw out the plan that got him there.”

And as difficult as that task sounds, imagine how much harder it is for a manager to look at a system that’s still getting results, and ask whether it’s time to change that. I totally understand the argument that says “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

But that’s a fearful mindset. It’s not one Rodgers would have adopted at any other club.

If we came out playing a totally different style of football next season, with a whole different system, I honestly think we could put the first ten games in the bag. No one would have a clue.

They’d spend 45 minutes trying to work out what we were doing, and the next 45 trying to stop it. By then, we’d have steamrolled them.

When you make a change while you’re successful, it looks like strength.

It looks like a show of force. Hell, in Rodgers’ case, it might just look like showing off—a glorious moment of reinvention from a manager who refuses to let himself or his team become stale or static or stuck in a rut.

There are many reasons to do it. There’s only one reason not to—and that’s because the current system still works. But that begs the question: does it?

Because I’m not convinced it does. Not consistently. Not anymore. There’s no doubt that teams have us partially figured out. There’s no question in my mind that we’ve lost something in our overall approach.

When we don’t get a couple of early goals, matches turn into a grind. It becomes less about team structure and more about waiting on a moment of individual brilliance. And you know what? That sounds an awful lot like relying on luck to me.

Maybe that’s harsh. But I’ve seen plenty of teams fall into that trap, and not all of them get back out of it. We didn’t in the Cup Final. In the second half especially, it looked like we were praying for a single flash of magic from an individual, not expecting the team to break Aberdeen down collectively.

That cost us the Treble.

And if you’re saying, as many of us have, that Reo Hatate’s absence might’ve made the difference, you’re essentially admitting that the system alone couldn’t get it done. That we needed a moment of magic. That without him, the team and its tactics weren’t up to the job.

And if the Cup Final was a one-off, that might be forgivable. But we know it’s not. We know those issues weren’t confined to Hampden. The form post-January was patchy. Especially against the other side of the city—who seemed to have our number even with a tabloid journalist in the dugout.

Are we really going to wait until Rodgers is in a Super Bowl-style situation before he changes things? Wait until form deserts us completely? I hope not.

Because Brendan Rodgers would not have tolerated that level of stagnation at any of his other clubs. He wouldn’t have persisted with that formation in his FA Cup Final when it clearly wasn’t working. But he did it here.

There’s a complacency to how he handled it—an inbuilt presumption that we’d get the job done regardless, that no tactical boldness was required.

He needs to change it up, or we’re going to get caught. Again. And again. We cannot go into the new season with the exact same approach we ended the last one with. It already cost us a trophy. Next time, it might cost us more than that.

Change the tactics now, and the players we already have will win the next campaign at a walk. Nobody will know how to handle us.

All the defensive schemes they think they’ve got worked out for Celtic? Gone. Back to the drawing board for every manager in the league, including Russell Martin. Right now, all he has to do to get through his first Glasgow Derby is copy the last two Ibrox bosses and he’s got a chance.

We can’t let that stand. Rodgers surely won’t.

So while it’s in vogue—while it’s all the rage—we should change. Not to end a crisis. Not to stop the rot. Not out of desperation. But as a show of strength. A little tweak here and there is good. But it’s not enough.

We need a real rejigging of the way we play. Of how we approach games, and I know Rodgers has that in his locker. He’s proved it over and over again. It’s not a change we should fear. The thing we should fear is standing still.