Bernard Ponsoby pushes his face into the Celtic storm and delivers.

There are speeches that pass through the Celtic world like a mild breeze, barely rustling the leaves. Then there are speeches that land with a bit of weight behind them and they come through like a hurricane wind.

What Bernard Ponsonby delivered here sits somewhere in between. It was measured and reflective, but it had enough pointed edges that those in the boardroom cannot shrug it off and move on.

I’ll be honest. Listening to it, and then reading through it, I found myself nodding at parts of it and bristling at others.

Because that is the thing about Celtic right now. It is not a simple conversation anymore. It is layered, emotional and contradictory. To his credit, Ponsonby actually leans into that complexity rather than pretending it is all one thing.

He starts by swatting away the influence of the ultras, calling them “statistically insignificant.” I get the point he is trying to make. He is saying that the wider support, the core, everyday fans, are the ones whose patience is wearing thin. But I think that framing is a bit too neat and a bit too dismissive.

Because whether you like them or not, those groups often act as a pressure valve. They say things loudly that others may only mutter under their breath. So, to brush them aside entirely feels like simplifying something that is not simple.

Then he moves into something far more substantial. The whole “sack the board” debate.

Here, I think he hits a nerve. “Sack the board is a slogan, not a strategy.”

Aye. That is uncomfortable, but it is true.

It is easy to chant it. It is easy to throw it around online. But when you strip it back to the mechanics, the AGMs, the voting structures and the shareholdings, it becomes clear very quickly that this is not a straightforward overthrow.

The power structure at Celtic does not invite disruption.

At the centre of that structure, whether we like it or not, sits Dermot Desmond. This is where Ponsonby really leans in.

If Desmond stays, he says, not much changes.

That line lingers.

Because it cuts through all the noise. All the talk of directors, executives and reshuffles eventually leads back to the one constant. The one figure who has been there through the dominance, through the missteps and through the cycles of hope and frustration.

This is where my own thinking sharpens a bit.

I don’t think it is as binary as “Desmond stays, nothing changes” or “Desmond goes, everything improves.” That is too simplistic. But I do think Ponsonby is right to highlight the inertia at the top.

Celtic’s model has been stable. It has been profitable, controlled and risk-averse. It has delivered domestic success, no question. You do not fluke that level of dominance over 25 years.

But stability can quietly become stagnation, especially in a European context where standing still means going backwards. That is the core contradiction he points out. It is the one nobody can really argue with.

Domestic dominance versus European irrelevance.

Because that is what it feels like at times, isn’t it?

You can win everything at home. You can build trebles on top of trebles. But when you step onto the European stage and repeatedly fall short, often against teams you should be competing with, it starts to gnaw away at something deeper.

Ponsonby calls it “sobering.” I would go further than that. I would say it is defining.

Because for a club like Celtic, Europe is not a luxury. It is part of the identity. The history demands it. The expectation demands it. When that side of the club consistently underdelivers, it creates a low-level dissatisfaction that never quite goes away, no matter how many domestic medals you stack up.

But, and this is important, Ponsonby does not descend into bitterness. He takes a step back and acknowledges the success. He pays tribute to the people who built that era.

Again, that is where I agree with him.

There is a tendency right now to rewrite the last 25 years as if it has been some kind of failure. It has not. It has been a period of sustained, often overwhelming dominance. That matters. We should recognise it.

But recognition does not mean acceptance of the current situation. That is the balance he is trying to strike, even if he does not always land it perfectly.

Where he really shifts tone is when he talks about what Celtic is. Not the business. Not the boardroom. But the club in its essence.

The support. The foundation. The spirit. I’ll admit, that part resonates. Maybe more than anything else he says.

Because it is easy to get dragged into spreadsheets, structures and ownership models, but Celtic has always been something slightly different. There is that intangible element. That sense of belonging. That sense of purpose beyond results.

When he talks about the Foundation representing the true spirit of the club, he taps into something real.

That idea of Celtic, at its core, being about community, about helping others and about being something bigger than the game itself, is not romantic nonsense. I think it is part of why the club means what it means to people.

But here is the tension again.

That emotional, almost spiritual identity sits alongside a very modern, very calculated business model. Sometimes those two things do not align as comfortably as we would like to pretend. Then he circles back to something more immediate.

Communication.

Here, honestly, I think he is absolutely spot on.

“Absentee landlords and their offspring reading the Riot Act simply will not do it.”

That is not subtle. That is not dressed up. It is a direct hit.

That is one of the strongest parts of the speech, and every one of us has rightly applauded it.

Because one of the biggest frustrations right now is not just the decisions. It is the silence around them. The distance. It seems sometimes that the club only properly engages with us when it wants to deliver some calculated insult. There is a sense that the people running the club are not really with the support in any meaningful way.

You do not have to agree with every fan demand. You do not have to react to every bit of noise. But there has to be engagement. There has to be clarity. There has to be some sense that the club understands the mood rather than merely tolerating it.

Too often, that has not been there.

That is why the “absentee landlord” label sticks, whether people like it or not. It is not just about physical absence. It is about emotional and communicative distance. That is a problem, because Celtic does not function well with distance. It never has.

Then he drops what might be the most telling line of all, when he questions whether to renew his season ticket.

Now, he says he will. Of course he will. Most of us will. But the fact that the question even enters the mind is the point.

That is where you see the erosion. Not in dramatic gestures, but in small moments of doubt. When those moments start to spread across a support, the club has to pay attention. Not because fans will walk away en masse overnight. They won’t. But the relationship starts to shift. It becomes less unconditional and less automatic.

That is dangerous territory for any club, never mind one built so heavily on identity and loyalty.

Where I think Ponsonby finishes well is in pulling it back to the personal. The memories. The moments. The shared experiences.

The idea that, regardless of all this noise about boards, ownership and strategy, what endures is the support itself.

That is true. It always has been.

But the people running the club should not use that as a comfort blanket.

Because yes, the support will always be there. But that does not mean supporters should accept anything and everything without question. If anything, it places more responsibility on those in charge.

They are not just running a business. They are custodians of something that people feel deeply connected to.

So where do I land on all of this?

I think Ponsonby raises valid points and he articulates the tension between gratitude for the past and frustration with the present better than most. I also think his comments on communication and structural reality are grounded in something real.

But I also think there is a slight caution in his tone. A reluctance to push the argument all the way to its conclusion.

Because if you accept that the model is not delivering as it should, and you accept that meaningful change looks unlikely while the current structure remains in place, then the logical next question is a difficult one.

What are we actually willing to do to fix it? That is where the conversation becomes uncomfortable. Because real change is not tidy. Change is not risk-free. It does not come from polite speeches alone.

Change comes from pressure. It comes from decisions. It comes from a willingness to disrupt what has been comfortable for a long time.

Right now, Celtic feels like a club caught between two states. Successful but unsatisfied. Stable but stagnant. Proud but frustrated.

Ponsonby has captured that mood, no doubt about it.

The question is whether anyone in a position of power is really listening, or whether, once again, the club will file it away as just another well-delivered speech while nothing of substance actually changes.

That, more than anything, is the fear sitting underneath all of this.

Am I afraid of change and risk at Celtic as a fan? No. What scares me most is Celtic falling apart, or continuing to slide. Those are the outcomes that are unacceptable. Those are the two things that cannot be allowed to happen.

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