This could be the most dangerous title in Celtic’s history.

The end of the 2025/2026 season is looming, but what will it really mean for Celtic? Even if we win the Scottish Cup, or even if we somehow get our hands on the title, does that mean nothing needs fixed? No.

That, for me, is the danger.

Some people will look at a trophy and decide it means everything is fine. I’ve spoken about this in the context of the Scottish Cup. But I fear that a league title will change the way some people think about this season. They will say Celtic do not need major changes because the main prize is back in the cabinet. But that would only be another version of sweeping the dirt under the carpet instead of dealing with it properly.

Right now, Celtic look like Swiss cheese. There are holes everywhere, and some people seem to think all we need to do is patch them with something sticky and hope for the best. That will not work. This club needs fixing from the very top to the very bottom.

Winning the league usually ends arguments. At most clubs it becomes the final word. But for Celtic, this specific title could become a toxic gift.

Because if Celtic secure the championship, the triumph risks becoming a false validation. It risks becoming proof, in the eyes of the board and others, that the current structure, the current recruitment policy, and the current regression are all acceptable. They might point to a successful season and say “See? This is what happens even when we’re at our absolute worst. Next season will certainly be better, so we don’t have to panic.”

A trophy, in this context, would not prove health. It would mask stagnation. That’s the uneasy reality of this moment.

A league title would silence critics for a while, but it would not fix the turgid, uninspired football supporters have endured for months. It would not erase the confusion on the pitch, the lack of identity, the growing sense that this team no longer imposes itself the way Celtic sides should, and that is why this worries me.

Because success, in the wrong hands, becomes an alibi. This board has already had way too many of those. This board wants a shield. A reason to do nothing. A way of pretending that doing just enough is good enough.

And that, to me, is a bunch of pish.

Domestic success has too often become their excuse. They use it to avoid hard questions. They use it to paper over the cracks. As long as they can point to the trophy cabinet, they think they can ignore the decline in standards, the poor football, and the obvious need for deeper change. That is why this title could be the enemy of progress.

Instead of becoming a reason to embrace change and growth, it could become the perfect excuse to change absolutely nothing.

Because let’s be honest. If Celtic wins the title this season, it won’t be as a dominant force. It won’t be because we’ve blown everyone away. It will be survival, the last club standing in a race where nobody has managed to build real momentum.

This would not be a title won from a position of strength. It would be a title won because the competition stumbled as much as we did, and that changes how it should be judged.

Winning despite glaring flaws does not make a team healthy. It masks the symptoms of decline. That is what makes this kind of success so deceptive. It creates the illusion that the foundations are solid when in reality they are under strain.

So, what happens if Celtic win the double, or retain the title?

I fear the same thing that always happens. Instead of cold analysis, we’ll get triumphalism and instead of hard truths, we’ll get the usual gibberish about how everything is fine. Instead of bold action, we’ll get another summer of hesitation, excuses and half-measures.

You can already hear the lines being prepared. “We’ve won, what are you complaining about?” will be the ultimate conversation-stopper. It will be used to shut down debate about the style of play, the tactical stagnation, the squad imbalance, and the lack of progress.

“The standards are fine.” That will be another. “This has just been a particularly cursed year.” People will hold up the trophies in the cabinet as proof that the system works, as if winning in Scotland automatically makes you a well-run, high-functioning football club.

“No major rebuild needed.” That will be another, and that might be the most dangerous one of all, especially if people couple it with reminders that some of our injured players are going to return to the squad. This would let the club convince itself that the current squad has enough in it, that the current structure only needs a little adjustment, and that it can delay the deep, necessary rebuild again.

That is what worries me more than anything.

I worry too about this mindset creeping into the support and some will echo it gladly. I can already see it forming. If Celtic win this title, there will be voices telling us that nothing is broken. That this squad, more or less, is enough. That this season has somehow vindicated the people in charge. I cannot accept that.

So, if we win this title the whole club will be faced with a choice. To ignore what is right in front of our eyes or the choice to trade truth for comfort.

I watch this team every week and I feel the erosion. The standards have slipped. The certainty has gone. The authority has faded, and still, some people would look at a the league trophy and tell us not to believe what we have seen.

It is one of the truisms of football that short-term glory can disguise long-term decline.

A title, in isolation, is a beautiful thing. But a title used as an excuse becomes something else. It becomes a reason not to act. A reason not to rebuild and to avoid the difficult decisions that everybody, deep down, knows have to be made.

I fear a summer where the final league table becomes the excuse for caution. I fear recruitment that is timid instead of bold. What I am most afraid of is a club convincing itself that evolution is optional when, in truth, it is essential.

Our recent history has been about dominance. About imposing ourselves. About making it clear who we are. The great Celtic teams didn’t just collect trophies. They commanded them. They had force and identity and certainty.

That is the standard I measure us against, and if I’m honest, I do not see that Celtic right now. What I see instead is the seductive power of illusion. The illusion that a title equals progress. The illusion that success on paper reflects real strength on the pitch. But those things are not always the same.

Success without substance is fragile. It looks convincing. It feels reassuring. But it does not last. And if we allow ourselves to be fooled by it, if we accept it without question, then we are not moving forward. We are drifting backwards.

Of course, if Celtic win the title, I will celebrate. Of course I will. I would never pretend otherwise. Supporting this club means feeling those moments properly when they come.

But even in that moment, I would still question. I would still look beyond the trophy. I would still ask whether this club is truly where it needs to be, or whether we have simply been handed a result that hides the truth for a little while longer.

That is the balance we have to find. The ability to celebrate without becoming blind.

The strength to enjoy success without allowing it to silence necessary criticism. In the end, this is not really about one title. It is about what comes after it. It is about whether Celtic choose honesty over comfort, action over complacency, ambition over acceptance.

A league trophy may define a season, but how the club responds to this calamitous season of self-inflicted wounds will define the years that follow.

And for me, that is the real test.

Not whether we win it, but whether we are brave enough to keep on facing the truth if we do.

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