Celtic cannot fixate on results elsewhere. The title race is in our own hands.

I have always believed that football, at its purest and most unforgiving, is not really played across a season, where your team can rise and fall a dozen times, but within moments. Within individual games where everything else must fall silent.

As I sit with that familiar hum in my chest, that instinctive pull that never quite leaves me, I feel it stronger than ever now. One game at a time, Celtic. One breath, one step, one strike of the ball.

Because I know how easy it is to be distracted. The noise creeps in, doesn’t it? Scores from elsewhere, whispers from rival grounds, the constant chatter of what this team did or what that team might do. It swirls like a storm at the edges of your mind, trying to pull your focus away from what truly matters.

But I can feel it, deep in my bones, that this is where discipline becomes everything. This is where titles are either forged or foolishly thrown away.

It is like any complicated task. You do not solve everything at once. You take what is in front of you and break it down. Shut out the chaos and work, patiently and relentlessly, on the problem at hand, one bit at a time. Celtic’s path is no different.

Each match is its own universe. Its own battle. Its own story waiting to be written. If you start glancing over your shoulder, worrying about what is happening somewhere else, you have already lost a piece of yourself. A dangerous piece. The part that keeps you sharp, grounded and ruthless.

I can sense the pressure building, minute by minute, game by game. That is natural. It is inevitable. But pressure is not the enemy. Distraction is.

Pressure can be harnessed, shaped and turned into something fierce and purposeful. Distraction is the thief in the night, quietly undoing all your good work.

So I find myself saying it again, almost like a mantra whispered into the wind. Focus.

Narrow your vision. Let the rest of the world spin and shout and scramble as it pleases, because it will do that regardless. That is beyond your control. There is no point, none at all, in fretting over outcomes elsewhere if you have not first taken care of your own business.

There is a kind of strength in that. A quiet, stubborn defiance. To say: we will do our work. We will handle what is in front of us. Whatever comes beyond that will come in its own time.

I admire that mindset. I trust it. My instincts, that wee flicker of something older and deeper, tell me it is the only way forward. Even in a race like this where we’re running out of games; one at the weekend, one more on Wednesday. Something, we think, has to happen somewhere else. But what if it does? If we’ve fallen short, it doesn’t matter at all.

Because I have seen it before. Teams who look too far ahead, who start counting points not yet earned, who listen too closely to the noise around them, they falter. They lose their footing. Once doubt creeps in, it spreads like mist over a battlefield, blinding and disorienting.

But Celtic, at their best, are not like that. At their best, they are singular in purpose. Eyes forward. Minds clear. Every pass, every tackle, every run driven by the simple, uncompromising demand: win this game.

That is all it has to be. Not the next one or the one after that. Not what rivals are doing across the city or across the country. Just this one.

The grass beneath your boots. The ball at your feet and the task in front of you.

I feel a calm in that thought. A steadying force. Because when you strip everything else away, when you silence the noise and trust the process, it becomes almost simple. Not easy. Never easy. But simple in its clarity.

Do the work. Win your battles. Take your chances. Move on to the next.

That is how you climb and ndure. That is how you become champions again and again. Not through grand gestures or frantic glances elsewhere, but through relentless focus on what lies directly ahead.

So let the world do what it is going to do. Let others talk, speculate, panic, celebrate too early or despair too soon. That is their path. Not Celtic’s.

Celtic’s path is narrower. Sharper. More demanding.

And I can feel it, clear as anything. If they stay true to that path, if they keep their minds where their feet are, if they trust the work and shut out the noise, then everything else will fall into place exactly as it should.

One game at a time. Always.