Does the striker Celtic are watching give us the quality we need?

The name Tyrese Campbell has come up a few times now, since we were linked with him in January, and when his name turned up last week in a series of rumours, I started turning him over in my mind the way you do when you’re not quite convinced, but you’re not ready to dismiss it either. That space between belief and doubt is where Celtic find themselves right now, and it’s exactly where Campbell sits for me as well.

We were definitely interested in January. I’ve established that. His club were not willing to part company with him. There was, it’s been alleged, interest from Ibrox too. For once this does not look as if it was simply agents offering their man around.

He is entering the last year of his deal. That’s why this feels possible.

Before I let myself drift into the more romantic side of football, I always come back to the numbers.

They don’t lie, even if they don’t tell the full story.

Campbell’s goal return at his previous clubs hasn’t exactly set the world alight. We’re not talking about a striker who has been rattling in 20 or 25 goals a season, dominating defenders, and forcing you to sit up and take notice. His output has been modest. Flashes rather than consistency. Moments rather than stand out spells.

That’s where the first doubt creeps in.

Because Celtic don’t need moments. Celtic need someone who can carry a campaign. Our summer signings need to be the kind of players who have that quality. When I think about what we’ve lost, I can’t help but think of Kyogo Furuhashi. Not just his goals, but his instinct, his movement, that ruthless edge in the box. Kyogo didn’t just score. He haunted defenders. He lived in the spaces they forgot to guard.

So, when I look at Campbell’s numbers, I ask myself one very basic question. Is there evidence of that same hunger? That same instinct? And here’s another question; is there something worth working with? Is he the victim, as so many strikers are, of playing styles that don’t suit them? Is there one in which he works, and which we are likely to play?

If I’m being brutally honest, I don’t quite see it yet.

Now this is where football becomes almost poetic for me, because the first touch tells you so much. When the ball comes into a striker under pressure, bouncing, spinning, unpredictable, that moment defines whether the move lives or dies.

With Kyogo, the touch was rarely just control. It was intent. It always seemed to take him exactly where he needed to go next.

With Campbell, I watch that closely, because this is where strikers separate themselves. There are moments when he cushions the ball well, brings it under control, and you think, aye, there’s something there. But there are other times when it feels just a fraction loose, just a second too slow, just enough for a defender to step in.

At Celtic, that fraction is everything.

In Scotland, especially against low blocks, you do not get time. The defenders are tight, the space is suffocating, and if your first touch isn’t sharp, not just controlled but purposeful, the attack breaks down before it even begins. Kyogo made that look effortless. Campbell, at this stage, looks a little too inconsistent.

And inconsistency is a dangerous thing at a club like Celtic.

Then I think about close control, about that ability to move with the ball as if it’s tied to your boots. And here my mind drifts to Jota.

Jota didn’t just run with the ball. He danced with it. He could glide past defenders, drop a shoulder, shift his weight, and suddenly the whole shape of a defence would collapse. Jota created chaos, and Celtic thrived on that chaos.

So, I ask myself again, can Campbell do that? Really good strikers can.

Kyogo did it with ease. When you watch Ihenacho’s goal yesterday, he shows what close control under pressure looks like. He gets the ball inside the box, his back to goal, and he moves on a swivel and arches it past the keeper before the defence can react.

From what I’ve seen, Campbell is capable of carrying the ball. He’s not uncomfortable with it at his feet. But does he dominate it? Does he impose himself on defenders the way so many Celtic strikers of recent years do? Does he have that ability to turn and shoot in a single move? Can he take the ball in a crowded box and move it so that it bamboozles defenders giving him the space to get off a shot? Not really.

There’s a difference between running with the ball and commanding it. Between moving forward and dictating what happens next. Campbell feels more functional than expressive, and once again I find myself in that same place.

Not writing him off, but not fully convinced either.

Because Celtic need players who can take control of a game when it goes stale. Players who do not just follow the rhythm, but change it.

Then there is the one-on-one with the keeper, perhaps the clearest test of a forward. That moment strips everything back. No system, no shape, no tactical theory. Just the player, the ball and the decision.

Watch Cvancara yesterday. Ugh. Painful. Watch Jonny Kenny earlier in the campaign. Frustrating to say the least. Even Maeda has struggled badly when going one on one this season. You look at the great strikers of the past few years; Kyogo, Idah, Giakoumakis, Edouard, Dembele … you would have bet on them all to score one on one. You’d have expected it. It’s the striker’s most potent instinct.

This is where composure matters most.

When I watch Campbell in those situations, I see a player who can finish. But I don’t always see a player who owns the moment. Sometimes the finish feels rushed. Sometimes it feels reactive rather than calculated and and at Celtic, you don’t get ten chances.

You might get two. Sometimes one.

That’s why the best forwards stand apart. They don’t just finish. They expect to finish. These players carry that quiet certainty that tells you, before the ball even hits the net, that this was always how it was going to end.

With Campbell, I don’t yet see that inevitability. I see a player who can score, but I’m still waiting to see whether he truly believes he will. And that belief matters.

Finishing is the rarest currency in football.

Plenty of players can strike a ball. Plenty can score the occasional goal. But the elite can score in different ways, from different angles, under different pressures. They improvise and adjust. They find solutions when the chance isn’t perfect. That is where the question still hangs over Campbell for me.

When I told James I was writing this, and when I told him what attributes I was focussing on he told me to watch two players.

The first of them was Lionel Messi.

He is the ultimate footballer in that he has all the skillsets you want in a forward; the first touch is perfect. The close control is artistry. But it’s composure and finishing which have made him the greatest player of all time; he never rushes. He never panics.

You watch the way he scores goals; he places the ball where he wants it to go.

In a split second, he calculates the precise angle that will put it beyond the keeper and he hits it into that spot.

We cannot expect any player we sign to have his laser focus or his consistency, but you look at the great strikers of the last few years at Celtic, they all had that same ability to put the ball where they wanted it to go.

Edouard and Dembele could place the ball beyond the keeper without putting their boot through it. Kyogo could do it from any angle, with the inside of his foot, the outside of his foot, with the tips of his boots, on the run, on the volley, sometimes catching it in mid-air.

The other player James told me to watch was Larsson.

The quintessential Celtic striker. Look at how many of his goals were placed, making the art of scoring look simple. He too didn’t need to blast the ball. It left his boot only when he’d picked his spot.

At Celtic, the chances aren’t always clean. Sometimes the ball sits awkwardly.

Sometimes the angle is tight and the defender is right on top of you. That is where instinct takes over.

Those guys all had that, and watching Kyogo and Larsson and Messi you see something like a sixth sense in action; it’s as if these guys had an extra second to think in and act in and twist their bodies in so they could put the ball in the net.

This is the question everyone will ask, whether they admit it or not.

Can he be the next Kyogo? Larsson is too much to ask anyone.

We will probably never see a better footballer in a Celtic shirt. But Kyogo? That’s recent enough and grounded enough to feel real and you do not replace that kind of player with someone lacking the skills he had.

Kyogo wasn’t just a player. He was a perfect fit.

His movement, his intelligence, his understanding of space, all of it aligned with how Celtic played. Campbell should not be judged on whether he can be Kyogo. He should be judged on whether he can bring something equally effective, even if it looks completely different.

Which is why the question of role naturally arises. Is there a version of Celtic where he could be effective? A team system? A style of play? What’s his role as a footballer? He seems to me to be one of those guys who runs into channels, who harasses defenders by moving into space and trying to capitalise on errors.

In short, there might be a Celtic style that suits him … but we play against the fabled low-block and he is not the sort of player who is going to break that open. A pressing forward, in a transitional side, rather than a predator in a dominating one.

In short, I see a player without a clear identity we could bank on. And at Celtic, identity matters. This is where I step back from the individual and look at the system. Celtic are not the same side that once dominated.

The edge has dulled. The sharpness has faded. The certainty has gone. Our attacking edge has blunted. We need players with that first touch, that creativity, that spark of inspiration, that ability to function in the half second in a packed penalty box. We need players who walk in and raise the level immediately.

And that is where I land after all of this.

My head tells me Tyreece Campbell is not the striker Celtic need. The numbers are not strong enough. The consistency is not there. The sharpness, the composure, the inevitability, all of those things still feel like they are just short.

But my heart sees something.

Not the finished article. Not the next Kyogo. But a player who could become something in the right environment, with the right coaching, and with the right amount of time. In a different system, one where he has a bit more space to operate in, he could be excellent. He has pace. He has aggression. But his goals to games ratio is a tell, and when you watch him you see where he comes up short in other areas.

The problem is that Celtic don’t operate in a benign environment. So, I find myself in that familiar place again. Wanting to believe but not quite able to commit. And maybe that, more than anything, tells the story of where Celtic are right now.

Maybe we’re looking for certainty where none exists.

I don’t know. I just know when I look at his highlights we need a little more certainty than that.

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