Luke McCowan said this Celtic team were the best on their day. He was right.

There was a moment before the Ibrox game when Luke McCowan said what every Celtic supporter with eyes and a football brain already knew. He looked straight at the situation, ignored the noise, and declared that when Celtic are at our level, “no-one can touch us.”

The reaction to it was absolutely priceless.

Across the city, there was outrage. Panic. Accusations of arrogance. Managers greeting about respect. Pundits clutching pearls as if a Celtic player backing his own team was somehow scandalous behaviour.

That alone told me everything. The truth hurts people when they know, deep down, there is nothing they can say back to it.

Now? Luke McCowan has every right to stand there with that wee grin and remind everybody that he meant every single word.

Because Celtic proved it. Again.

This season was not some smooth procession where everything clicked from August onwards. There were spells where people were writing obituaries for this team. I could feel it everywhere. Every dropped point became a funeral march in the media. Every poor performance was treated as the end of an era.

The doubters came flooding out of the woodwork. Rival fans convinced themselves the empire was crumbling. Certain pundits were practically salivating at the thought of Celtic finally falling off the throne.

But the thing about Celtic is this: people never learn.

You can doubt us. You can bury us. You can scream that the standards are gone and the dynasty is finished. Yet somehow, when the pressure reaches its highest point, Celtic awaken. That is the only way I can describe it.
It is like something ancient stirs inside this football club. Something bigger than tactics, bigger than form, bigger than all the noise surrounding it.

Maybe that is my Ginger Witch instinct talking, but I swear there are moments where Celtic feel inevitable. Almost supernatural. This group of players deserve enormous credit for that.

McCowan’s comments after winning the title summed it up perfectly. He admitted things got bad at points this season. He admitted the inconsistency. He understood why outsiders doubted Celtic. But the key difference is that inside the dressing room, belief never disappeared. Not once.

That mentality is the mark of champions.

While everyone else was writing us off, Celtic were quietly rebuilding momentum. Quietly grinding. Quietly finding solutions.

Then suddenly you look up and realise this team has lost once in seventeen or eighteen matches. That is not luck. That is not coincidence.

That is elite mentality mixed with elite quality.

When Celtic hit that level, the level McCowan was talking about, nobody in this country can live with us. Nobody.

Not over ninety minutes. Not over a season. Not when Celtic play with intensity, bravery, composure and that swagger that only truly great sides possess.

What I love about McCowan is that he speaks like someone who understands exactly what it means to wear the shirt. There is no timidness about him. No shrinking away from expectation. He sounds proud to fight for Celtic. Proud to defend the club. Proud to back his teammates publicly. That matters.

Too often in modern football, you hear rehearsed robotic answers designed not to offend anybody. McCowan does not come across like that. He speaks with emotion, conviction and genuine belief in the dressing room around him.

Honestly, why shouldn’t he?

Look at the character this team showed when backs were against the wall. On the final day, when pressure could have crushed them, Celtic rose to it.

Hearts were leapfrogged. The title was secured. The players delivered with heart and composure, exactly as McCowan said they could.

Champions do not always have perfect seasons. Sometimes champions are defined by how they respond when things look like they are slipping away.

This Celtic side responded like true winners. That is why McCowan’s original comments now hit even harder. They were not empty bravado.

They were the words of a player who knew the quality inside that dressing room long before the rest of the country was forced to admit it.

Maybe that is what annoys people most about Celtic. No matter how chaotic things become, no matter how loudly rivals celebrate our supposed downfall, Celtic always seem to find a way back to the top.

The shirt demands it. The history demands it. The support drags it out of players whether opponents like it or not.

Luke McCowan understood that from the start.

“No-one can touch us.”

People mocked it at the time. Others were practically salivating with rage. They all thought those words would come back to haunt him. They are not laughing now.

Sometimes being a Celtic supporter feels like carrying an old bit of magic in your bones. Just when the doubters start dancing on our grave, Celtic rise again like something ancient and untouchable.

Luke McCowan saw it before everyone else did. While others panicked, he believed. While the noise grew louder, Celtic grew stronger. Now his words sit there shining in the cold light of reality. When Celtic are truly at it, nobody in this country touches us.

Not because of arrogance, but because this club has a habit of finding greatness exactly when the world thinks it is gone. So, take a bow, Luke McCowan. You and your team-mates proved your point in the best possible way.

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