The advantages of Celtic hiring Martin O’Neill are obvious. So are the risks.

Sometimes a warhorse is the best choice. But Celtic have to ask a bigger question than that. Do we need stability alone, or do we need greatness as well?

Martin O’Neill could bring stability to Celtic for a year. That is the argument for giving him the job. He can rebuild the squad, help rebuild the non-playing side and put us on a more solid foundation. I understand that argument.

But the argument against it is just as simple. If Celtic appoint O’Neill now, it may be another example of a board that lacks strategic imagination and remains stuck in the past.

There is a seductive comfort in the name of Martin O’Neill. Even saying it out loud feels like opening an old chest in the attic and finding medals, photographs, thunder and glory folded inside green-and-white scarves.

To me, O’Neill is not merely a former manager.

He is memory itself.

Seville tears. European nights under the lights. Sutton bullying defenders like a pub bouncer throwing drunks into the rain. Larsson floating across grass like he belonged to another realm entirely. Celtic Park roaring like an ancient beast awakened from sleep. And all that before this season and his stunning return.

So, when people say Martin O’Neill could bring stability to Celtic for a year, I understand the temptation. Believe me, I do.

Part of me can already see it. The old general returning to steady the ship while chaos circles around us. A temporary guardian standing at the gates while the squad gets rebuilt and the football department is dragged back into shape.

A man with enough stature to command respect instantly. No learning curve. No soft introduction. No trembling before the pressure of Glasgow.

Martin O’Neill knows this city. He knows the demands. He knows that managing Celtic is not merely football management. It is surviving an emotional civil war every single week.

Maybe, just maybe, there is an argument that a club drifting towards uncertainty sometimes needs an old warhorse more than a revolutionary.

Because let’s be honest here: the Celtic board has looked tired for years. Stale. Reactive. Slow. Like a club constantly waiting for events to happen before deciding what to do about them.

Recruitment structures are questioned every summer. Long-term planning often feels suspiciously like short-term panic in a different suit. The football side of the operation too often resembles an old building patched together with duct tape while everyone pretends the cracks are “part of the character.”

A figure like O’Neill could impose standards again. Demand professionalism. Demand authority. Demand accountability. He could probably walk into Lennoxtown tomorrow morning, and within five minutes half the place would suddenly remember what elite mentality actually looks like.

I will admit this, even with all my Ginger Witch instincts screaming in contradiction: there is something emotionally powerful about the idea of an old Celtic hero returning one last time to stabilise the kingdom before the next era begins.

Football seduces us with nostalgia because nostalgia feels safer than uncertainty.

But then the other side of me wakes up. The colder side. The sharper side. The side that looks at all this and thinks: here we go again.

Because if Celtic appoint Martin O’Neill now, what does it really say about the club? What does it say about the imagination of the board? About their vision? About their ability to build for the future instead of crawling backwards into the comfort blanket of yesterday?

That is the real issue for me. Not Martin himself. Never Martin himself.

The issue is a boardroom mentality permanently trapped in sepia tones. A club hierarchy obsessed with recycling old names because old names are easier than bold decisions. Easier than innovation. Easier than modern football thinking. Easier than risk.

Easier than moving forwards.

Celtic cannot keep living like a family-owned antique shop, polishing memories while the modern game evolves around us at frightening speed.

Every serious football club in Europe is building structures, identities, data departments, elite recruitment networks, succession plans, sporting hierarchies and long-term football philosophies. Meanwhile, Celtic too often behave as if they are trying to solve modern problems with ghosts from the DVD cabinet.

That is the danger. Because if Martin O’Neill arrives for “one stabilising year,” what happens after that? Another temporary fix? Another sentimental appointment? Another rebuild after the rebuild?

Celtic have become addicted to patchwork solutions instead of strategic architecture.

I want ambition from this club. Ruthless ambition.

I want Celtic to think ahead instead of backwards. I want them identifying the next great manager before the current one even leaves. I want infrastructure. Vision. Elite-level planning. I want a football club operating like a modern European institution instead of an emotional support group for boardroom nostalgia.

This is where my Ginger Witch instincts begin howling.

Because deep down, appointing O’Neill would feel less like a masterplan and more like fear. Fear of change. Fear of fresh thinking. Fear of taking the difficult road.

It would feel like men in suits reaching for a familiar photograph because they no longer know how to paint new pictures.

That should worry every Celtic supporter.

Now listen, if Martin O’Neill walked through the door tomorrow, I would back him. Of course I would. Any Celtic manager deserves support when he wears that badge, and I have too much respect for what O’Neill gave this club to ever sneer at his name.

The man helped restore pride to Celtic. He made us champions again when nobody thought we could be. He gave us belief.

But football cannot survive on memory alone.

The past should inspire Celtic. It should not imprison us like a bird in a cage, trapped beside an open window, able to see the sky but never allowed to fly towards it.

Sometimes I think Celtic are haunted by their own history.

Haunted by Lisbon. Haunted by Seville. Haunted by eras so glorious that the people running Celtic keep trying to recreate them instead of building something entirely new.

I understand the emotional pull of Martin O’Neill. I truly do. In unstable times, people reach for familiar voices, familiar faces and familiar comfort.

But Celtic should not merely be searching for stability.

Celtic should be searching for greatness.

And greatness rarely comes from staring endlessly into the rear-view mirror.

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