Celtic could have used Daniel Cummings. He denied us, and himself, a real chance.

Football can be a cruel business. Plenty of people inside it make calamitous misjudgements, and the regrets are never far behind. Celtic has seen such players come and go. Daniel Cummings is one of them.

One of the other Celtic sites wrote about him this week. I was fascinated by that article. 

For many players, their entire career ends up defined by regret: choices not taken, bad choices made.

It is a short career, but one littered with clearly signposted pitfalls.

Daniel Cummings left this club in the summer and blundered past several of them.

One of the things Brendan Rodgers used to tell young players at Celtic was that they had examples of patience and perseverance right in front of them. Anthony Ralston. James Forrest. Kieran Tierney. Callum McGregor.

Far more players have ignored that advice than followed it. You know this because the number who have left Celtic in pursuit of something “better” and actually found it is vanishingly small. I do not think Celtic graduates enough academy players into the first team, and that is a failing of the academy itself.

Most simply are not good enough. But among those who were good enough, or could have been, the decision to leave usually has nothing to do with Celtic. It comes down to the players and the choices they make.

If you are an academy player on the cusp of the Celtic first team, that tells you something important. You have separated yourself from your peers. Coaches inside the club believe you have something different.

At a club like Celtic, whose leaders would prefer in-house solutions to spending heavily, that puts you in a stronger position than you might realise. You may not get the same volume of opportunities as you would at Hearts, Hibs or Aberdeen, where standout academy players become centrepieces, but you will get chances.

And the fact you are even close to the first team suggests people believe you might make it.

Here is the irony. That opportunity also puts you in the danger zone.

Once you train with the senior squad, once you make benches and appearances, other clubs start watching. If you are still on an academy contract and someone makes an offer, you face a serious adult decision. One that needs to go far beyond money.

I recently heard a statistic that stopped me cold. Within five years of retirement, 40 per cent of footballers have little or no wealth. Within ten years, that rises to 60 per cent. Those figures come from bankruptcy filings and from charities that work with former players. I understand why young footballers feel pressure to maximise earnings as early as possible.

But the harsh truth is this: early in a player’s career, money is not the currency that matters. Minutes are. Minutes on the pitch. Time playing your game. Time developing your craft. Every day spent in the reserves or sitting in the stand does not increase your value. It costs you something you never get back.

No profession punishes wasted time the way football does.

That is the trap. If you chase the biggest pay cheque early, without regard for minutes or first-team pathways, you may earn money you never see again. But you will almost certainly sacrifice far more than you gain. A career peak reached later pays infinitely better than an early payday followed by stagnation.

When a club the size of Celtic offers you a first-team contract after you have come through the ranks, it sends a powerful message. It says you belong in the conversation. It says you have the raw materials to play at a high level. That alone gives you something most players never get: a visible career horizon.

At that point, long-term thinking becomes not just possible but necessary.

That is when restraint matters most. You have to ask one question above all others: what gets me on the pitch? Which decision gives me minutes? What decision keeps me visible to managers and scouts? Which decision lets me take the next step, if I want one, later?

Daniel Cummings entered the danger zone the moment Rodgers identified him as a potential first-team option. That is when decisions become urgent and mistakes become costly. I am not saying he made the wrong choice.

I am saying circumstances have not been kind to him.

He left at the start of a season when the door stood wide open. Rodgers was never going to trust short-term fixes up front. From the moment Kyogo left last January, opportunity knocked loudly. Everyone hoped a young striker might finally force his way through.

Imagine where Cummings might be now. A boyhood Celtic fan, from a Celtic family — and yes, I know them personally. Right now, he could be standing in front of whoever occupies the dugout saying: do not sign anyone else, I am your man.

Instead, he sits in the reserves at West Ham, losing precious time while competition stacks up ahead of him. That is not blame. It is reality. The confluence of events has worked against him. Had he shown patience, had he trusted the path Rodgers laid out, he might now hold all the cards.

It is a lesson for every young player at this club. Big money will always tempt. The greatest investment you can make is playing football. Playing often. Playing visibly. That is what builds reputations. That is what fills CVs.

I do not know whether Cummings looks back with regret. I know I do and I wonder what might have been. And if he was as good as many believed at the time, we could certainly have used a bit of that quality — not just now, but all season long.

That, in the end, is the tragedy of it.