Of course Celtic could raise £60 million from sales. But we don’t trust them to spend it.

There’s a kind of madness to this summer at Celtic.

Not the good madness either. Not the beautiful, Lisbon-drunk, Green Brigade firestorm kind. This is the sort of chaos where the roof leaks, the pipes burst, the walls are cracked and somebody at the top says: “Aye, maybe a wee lick of paint will sort it.”

No chance. What Celtic are staring at right now is not a touch-up job. It is not replacing a few floorboards and hanging fresh curtains.

It is structural work. Foundations. Steel beams. Heavy machinery. The kind of rebuild where dust fills the lungs and the noise never stops. I’m now hearing this magical figure floating around like some enchanted treasure chest.

£60 million.

As if £60 million automatically fixes everything.

As if modern football isn’t a blood-soaked casino where Premier League clubs casually spend Celtic’s annual turnover on one bench-warmer with bad hamstrings and a TikTok haircut. Can Celtic generate £60 million from player sales?

Absolutely. Maybe even more.

Football inflation is utterly deranged. One decent international tournament and suddenly the market behaves like a drunken laird throwing gold coins into the Clyde. But the real question is this: would Celtic actually use that money properly?

That’s where my Ginger Witch instincts start screaming.

Because history tells me Celtic are brilliant at one thing above all else: standing on top of mountains of cash while pretending they’re skint. That is the fear. Not the rebuild itself. The handling of it.

Look at the names being discussed.

Arne Engels is probably the crown jewel. Young, technical, physically strong, capable of operating in tight spaces and already attracting serious interest. If English clubs truly start circling again, Celtic could demand north of £25 million. Maybe more if there is a bidding war. Honestly? That is modern football.

You either evolve into a selling club with elite recruitment or you die pretending you are still living in 2003.

Would it hurt? Of course it would. Engels looks like a player who could dominate Scotland for years. But Celtic have always lived in this cruel paradox: develop brilliance, then lose it before its full bloom.

Then there’s Daizen Maeda. How do you even value chaos?

Maeda is not polished silk football. He is a forest fire in boots. A man who presses like he is being chased through the Highlands by ancient ghosts. Defenders hate him. Fans adore him because effort still matters in football and always will.

If the Bundesliga or Premier League come calling after another strong international showing, Celtic could command a massive fee.

But replacing him? That’s the trick. You do not simply buy another Daizen Maeda. Football data analysts can measure sprints, pressures, recoveries and heat maps all they want. They still cannot quantify terror. Maeda terrifies defenders into mistakes.

That is rare.

Alistair Johnston might actually be the one that scares me most. Because elite modern full-backs are gold dust. He is entering his prime years. He is relentless, aggressive, athletic and mentally suited to high-level football. If he performs well at the World Cup, the market could explode around him. Celtic know this.

The board will already see pound signs floating above his head like some cursed arcade machine. But here’s the brutal truth nobody at Celtic Park can hide from.

If Engels, Maeda and Johnston all leave in one summer, this stops being a rebuild and starts becoming open-heart surgery.

That is three pillars ripped out simultaneously.

Then you add the uncertainty around Reo Hatate, whose Celtic story feels strangely exhausted now. I love Hatate. On his day, he plays football like jazz music. Wild, improvised, unpredictable. But too many games drift past him now like smoke over the Clyde. Maybe both player and club have simply stayed together too long.

As for Paulo Bernardo, I genuinely don’t know what happened there. There is talent. You can see it. Technical pedigree does not vanish overnight. But football is full of players who become trapped between promise and personality.

Sometimes a club just never becomes home.

Then there’s Michel-Ange Balikwisha. Christ alive. This is where recruitment becomes unforgivable. Celtic spent years tracking him. Years. As if he was some hidden Belgian alchemist capable of transforming the attack. Yet when he arrived, he looked utterly detached from the demands of Scottish football.

Slow adaptation I can forgive. Injuries I can forgive. But invisibility? That’s harder. This is why the rebuild terrifies me.

Because Celtic’s recruitment structure still feels confused between two identities. Do they want elite development talent? Or do they want immediate first-team dominance?

Trying to do both cheaply is how you end up with bloated squads full of “projects” while the Champions League turns into ritual humiliation every autumn.

That’s before we even get to the dugout situation.

New manager. New football structure. Possible boardroom reshuffling. Potentially massive player turnover. That is instability whether people want to admit it or not.

Can Celtic rebuild with £60 million? Aye. Of course they can. Financially, they’d have the resources to go all out. But successful rebuilds are not built on money alone. They are built on clarity. Ruthlessness. Vision. Speed. Competence.

This board has not exactly inspired trust in those departments recently.

That’s the heart of it for me.

I don’t fear selling players. Celtic have always sold stars. That is our reality outside the financial superpowers. What I fear is Celtic entering another summer where every decision feels reactive instead of strategic.

Waiting too long. Bargain hunting. Panicking late in August while the season looms like thunderclouds over the east end.

The modern game punishes hesitation brutally.

This summer will tell us exactly what Celtic are. An ambitious football institution preparing properly for the future? Or a wealthy club sleepwalking behind its own supporters once again?

Deep down, every Celtic fan already knows which possibility frightens them more.

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