Celtic gave us hope yesterday and hope can turn into belief.

Celtic won another important game yesterday, beating Falkirk 3-1 at Paradise and keeping the title race alive.

After the dazzling extra time goal flood against St Mirren last week, when the Celtic Lions hammered them 6-2, this was another result that gave supporters something to hold onto. Celtic looked like Celtic again in spells. They were dominant, they created chances, scored goals and pushed hard.

But that is where the glory pauses for a moment, because the questions remain.

Can Celtic win their last four games? Can they put pressure on Hearts and Sevco?

Finally, can they still win the title? I wish I knew the answer. But time will tell.

I watched them walk off that pitch yesterday, and for one fleeting, dangerous moment, I let myself believe again. Not because it was perfect. It wasn’t.

Not because Celtic dominated from the first whistle to the last. They didn’t. But there was something in that 3-1 win over Falkirk that felt like a team remembering who they are, or at least who they are supposed to be.

That matters. God, it matters now.

This was not a match to dissect with a scalpel. It was one to feel.

Celtic were not slick in every passage. They were not ruthless with every chance. There were spells, familiar spells, where the tempo dipped and the edge softened. But I saw intent. I saw a side that, when it clicked, moved with purpose. I saw that old rhythm that makes you sit forward instead of sinking back.

Celtic scored three goals, and that alone tells you something. There is still life in this attack. There is still a capacity to hurt teams when we move quickly and commit bodies forward. But, and there is always a “but” with this Celtic side, we also conceded again.

It was not some unstoppable moment of brilliance either. It was the kind of goal that creeps in when concentration wavers, when the structure loosens and when we forget ourselves. That has been the story, hasn’t it? Not a lack of talent. Not even a lack of effort at times. But a lack of consistency in mindset.

We switch on and then we switch off. We look like champions for 20 minutes, then like passengers for ten. Yet yesterday, I didn’t feel the usual frustration boiling over. I felt something else, a cautious, stubborn hope.

Because the question now is brutally simple: can Celtic win the last four games against Hibernian, Sevco, Motherwell and Hearts?

On paper, yes. Absolutely yes. Nothing in front of Celtic should be beyond them. There is no insurmountable obstacle. No team should make us shrink. If Celtic play to their level, their actual level, not this diluted version we have seen too often, then they win those games. It is that straightforward.

But football is not played on paper, and Celtic this season have not moved in straight lines.

To win those four games, this team needs more than quality. This needs discipline. It needs focus that does not flicker. This needs a defence that treats every moment like it matters, not just the big ones. It also needs a midfield that dictates rather than drifts.

Too often, Celtic have allowed games to become messy, stretched and chaotic. That is where they invite trouble. What I saw yesterday suggests they can do it.

Not that they will. Not yet. But they can.

There were passages where the ball moved quickly. Decisions came early. Players trusted each other. That is the version of Celtic that wins four in a row to finish the season. That is the version that leaves nothing to chance.

But I won’t dress this up. We have teased that version before.

So, it comes down to mentality now. Not tactics or formations. Not even personnel to a large extent. It comes down to whether this group can finally string together four performances that match their ability. Four games where they don’t beat themselves. Because if Celtic do that, things get interesting. Very interesting.

Another question, one that sits heavy on my chest, is whether Celtic can continue to put real pressure on Hearts and Sevco and somehow drag themselves to a fifth title in a row by rocking our opponents until their own confidence slips.

That is where hope meets reality, and they don’t always shake hands.

To win the league from here, Celtic cannot just be perfect. Do that and we probably do win it. To make really sure, others have to slip. Relying on others is never a comfortable place to be. It strips you of control and leaves you checking scores instead of focusing only on your own work. Celtic should never be in that position. But they are.

Hearts have been stubborn, organised and difficult to break. Sevco, for all their own inconsistencies, have found ways to grind out results when it matters. So, the margin for error has gone. Completely gone. If Celtic drop even a single game, or probably even draw one, it is over. That is the reality. No poetry and no romance can soften that.

But if Celtic win all four, then they apply pressure. Real pressure. We have applied that pressure for the first time with this win. We play before our title rivals next weekend too; another three points is a must, especially with the Ibrox club heading to Tynecastle for the Monday night game. They both play today. We’ll see what happens, but next weekend already looms as a critical one. That’s going to tell us a lot.

Pressure does strange things in football. It tightens legs, clouds minds and turns simple passes into heavy touches. Teams that looked comfortable suddenly start looking over their shoulders. Supporters get nervous. Stadiums get edgy.

We have seen it before, countless times.

Momentum does not always shift because of brilliance. Sometimes it shifts because of belief. That is the word I keep coming back to. Belief. Do Celtic believe? Do our rivals?

Because I’ll be honest, I have struggled with it myself this season.

I have seen too many false dawns. Too many performances where Celtic promised everything and delivered half. I have felt that creeping acceptance at times, that quiet resignation that this just isn’t our year. I hate that feeling. It does not sit right with me, not when I think about what Celtic are supposed to be.

But yesterday, I felt a flicker again. Not a roaring fire. Not yet.

Just a flicker. I saw a team that looked dangerous when it went forward. I saw players who seemed to understand the urgency, even if only in bursts. We got a reaction after conceding, not a collapse.

Maybe that is the starting point. Maybe that is where this late push begins, not with perfection, but with resilience.

Still, I won’t lie to myself. The flaws are there. They have been there all season. Celtic still carry passengers at times. They still make decisions that do not match the level they should operate at. They still allow games to drift when they should be killing them. Those habits do not disappear overnight just because we want them to.

That is why this run-in feels so tense and fragile. It is not just about winning. It is about overcoming our own nature this season. If Celtic manage that, if they truly lock in and treat every remaining minute like it defines them, then yes, they can win those four games. Yes, they can put pressure on Hearts and Sevco.

Winning the title is the hardest part to say out loud. It is possible.

So where did it leave me last night? Somewhere in between hope and belief. I am not fully convinced. I am not blindly optimistic. But I am not done either.

I am watching a team that still has a chance to salvage something extraordinary from a season that has too often felt frustrating, disjointed and below the standard we demand. A chance to turn inconsistency into a late surge.

Maybe that is why I feel the way I do, because in a strange and uncomfortable way, I see our whole season in those emotions; hope and belief.

But the thing is this: we are not finished. There are four games left. Four chances to do things right. Four opportunities to prove that the good moments are not accidents. Four chances to show they can be sustained and that they can mean something.

If Celtic take them, truly take them, then they make our opponents sweat. More than that.

We close the gaps and then eliminate them entirely.

If we find ourselves top, at any point, on level games I think we’ve done it.

One game at a time. One. Two. Three. Four.

Bring the pressure. Make them sweat.

Then we will see who sits at the top when the final whistle on this campaign has blown.

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