Celtic fans face a tiresome summer as Ibrox gets set for another Pre-Season Cup.

“Incredible Ibrox stars are triggering Celtic panic” squeals the ludicrous Record headline on Facebook.

And yes, here we go again.

There are certain signs that summer has arrived in Scottish football. The sun peeks through the clouds for five minutes. Somebody starts talking about barbecue weather. And the Scottish media suddenly discovers a new pair of Ibrox heroes who are apparently destined to carry the nation on their shoulders.

This year, it seems, we’ve got Lawrence Shankland scoring twice yesterday, and young Finlay Curtis finding the net, and already I can hear the drums beating in the distance.

Aye, buckle up. This is going to be a very long summer.

Remember this; Ibrox always wins the pre-season cup. This is going to be a pretty excruciating example of that.

I swear, the moment any home grown, or Scottish international Ibrox player, strings together two decent performances, a section of the media starts acting like they’ve witnessed the second coming of football itself. The headlines get bigger. The praise gets louder. The expectations become more ridiculous with every passing day.

Before you know it, we’re being told these lads are the future of Scotland, the heartbeat of the national team, the answer to questions nobody was even asking.

Now, don’t get me wrong. If a player scores, he deserves credit. That’s football. Finlay Curtis finding the net is a good moment for the young man. Shankland scoring twice is what strikers are paid to do. Still … it was Curacao not Brazil.

The leap from “had a good day” to “national saviour” is one that only Scottish football’s hype machine seems capable of making. Lawrence Shankland was being acclaimed before this. Now … Good Christ, here we go.

We are about to spend weeks hearing how Scotland’s hopes rest upon them. Then months. Endless months. Months in which we’re told that they are the future and the future is coming for Celtic’s title. God help us if either of them has a good World Cup.

The funny part is how predictable it all is.

The same voices who spend half the season telling us the Scottish league is poor suddenly discover world-beaters whenever it suits the Ibrox narrative. One minute we’re told standards are dreadful. The next minute a player has a good game and apparently Europe’s elite should be forming an orderly queue outside Ibrox.

Make it make sense.

As a Celtic supporter, I look at some of this coverage and honestly laugh. Not because I want Scottish players to fail. Far from it. I want Scotland to succeed. I want every player wearing the national jersey to perform.

What makes me laugh is the sheer scale of the exaggeration. It is like watching someone spot a candle and immediately declare they have discovered a new sun.

Yet every summer, like clockwork, the footballing winds start to shift and the stories begin to grow taller than the mountains themselves. I sit, my Ginger Witch instincts tingling away like some ancient warning bell in the distance.

I can almost hear what’s coming. The features. The interviews. The endless discussions. The declarations that Ibrox is on the brink of something extraordinary.

All because a couple of players found the back of the net.

Football never changes. Neither, it seems, does the Scottish media.

So, congratulations to Shankland. Congratulations to Curtis. A goal is a goal. A good performance is a good performance. It does not automatically make someone a national icon. When it comes to Shankland, I am not going to sit here and pretend he has suddenly become some model leader either. He lost a lot in my eyes as a player and as a captain when he walked away from Hearts for Ibrox, and his behaviour towards Celtic supporters hardly screamed dignity or leadership.

That is not captain-like behaviour.

It is certainly not “best player in the league” behaviour.

So please, spare the rest of us the coronation ceremonies. If they want to award Ibrox its annual honour they can go right ahead. The pre-season cup means nothing in the grand scheme of things and although the hype train has already left the station and the carriages are filling up, somewhere in the distance, Celtic will be waiting.

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