So, Kyogo Furuhashi has been talking about his disappointment at not coming back to Celtic in January, and I have to admit that when I read it there was a little tug at the heartstrings.
Because Kyogo was our Kyogo. The wee Japanese magician who arrived at Celtic Park and somehow turned himself into a legend in the blink of an eye.
The smile, the movement, the goals, the celebrations and that beautiful connection with the Celtic support. There are some players who simply become part of the fabric of a football club, and Kyogo was absolutely one of them.
So yes, I understand his disappointment. But I also have to say something else.
Kyogo should not have said no to Celtic. There, I have said it.
Because when Celtic came calling in January, there was an opportunity there. A chance to return to Paradise, walk back through those famous doors, pull on that beautiful green-and-white shirt and become a Celtic player again.
He chose not to. And Celtic had to move on.
That is football. It can be brutal, emotional and sometimes unforgiving, but football does not wait around forever for anybody, and perhaps, looking at everything that happened afterwards, the Ginger Witch in me is beginning to think that maybe this was actually the best outcome for everybody.
Because look at what happened. Celtic won the league. Yes, we won the bloody league.
And we did it without Kyogo.
In fact, we did it without anybody who was regularly putting the ball in the net and making us feel comfortable in front of goal. There were moments when I was sitting watching Celtic and thinking, where on earth are the goals going to come from?
I wanted somebody to grab games by the throat. I wanted somebody to sniff out those chances in the box. I wanted that ruthless Celtic striker who sees half a chance and thinks, aye, that’s mine.
And yet somehow, through all of that, Celtic still found a way.
We still became champions.
Of course I would have loved to see Kyogo back. Don’t get me wrong. I adored watching that man play football for Celtic. I adored the way he seemed to know where the ball was going before everybody else had even thought about it. His movement was extraordinary, his finishing was often exquisite and when Kyogo was flying, Celtic were flying.
There is no rewriting that history. But football is not history.
Football is now. And Celtic had to look forward.
I think this is the part some people forget when they become emotional about former players. You can love somebody for everything they gave you and still accept that the story has moved on. Kyogo made his decision. Celtic made theirs.
And now Kyogo has got his move to MLS.
I genuinely hope he enjoys it. I hope he scores goals, I hope he smiles and I hope he finds a new footballing home where supporters adore him and where he can continue doing what he does best.
Because despite everything, I will always have affection for Kyogo. He gave me some absolutely wonderful Celtic memories.
But I am not sitting here crying into my Celtic scarf because he isn’t back at Paradise, because something rather interesting has happened.
Celtic survived without him and then we got past it. We won the bloody championship, and then we did what great clubs always do; we went out and found the next group of heroes. We left it late, but at last they are in the building.
It tells me that perhaps Celtic were right to resist simply turning the clock backwards. Sometimes, in football, nostalgia can be dangerous. You can spend too much time trying to recreate something that was beautiful instead of building something new that might become even better.
And that is where my Ginger Witch instincts emerge.
Because I look at Celtic now and I see a different energy. Kasper Høgh arriving and immediately announcing himself with that hat-trick against Kilmarnock. Camilo Durán bringing something different. Haissem Hassan arriving with his own attacking qualities. Mika Baur joining the rebuild of this Celtic side.
Suddenly we’re all looking forward rather than backwards. And perhaps that is exactly what needed to happen. Maybe Kyogo returning in January would have been wonderful. Maybe he would have scored goals. Maybe he would have lifted the team. Maybe we would all have been singing his name again.
But maybe, and this is where the Ginger Witch puts her hand on the crystal ball, bringing him back would simply put off the larger job that needed to be done here. Maybe we all – player and club alike – needed that new start.
Celtic needed to start building the next Celtic, not endlessly rebuilding the last one. And now Kyogo has chosen his road. MLS. Celtic have chosen theirs. Two roads. Two futures. And I think we should leave it there. I am happy with how things ended up.
There is absolutely no bitterness from me.
I don’t think Kyogo owes Celtic his career. He made the choice he believed was right for him, and now he has got what he wanted. Celtic may not have liked his decision, but we won anyway and it was that which allowed us to move forward.
That is the cold truth of football. The badge comes first. Always. Players come and go. Managers come and go. Boards come and go. But Celtic remains.
And that is why I am actually quite comfortable with the way this particular story has unfolded. Kyogo didn’t come back. Celtic moved on. Celtic won the league. And now we are building again.
Could we have used Kyogo? Of course we could. Would I have loved to see him scoring at Paradise again? Absolutely.
But would I have traded the future we seem poised to have now just to have him back? Not a chance. And that might have been the choice.
When I look at that Celtic badge, I don’t see one player. I see generations. I see history. I see the Hoops, Paradise, everything that came before us and everything that will come after us. Kyogo was a beautiful chapter. But he is a chapter.
And now I want to see what comes next.
Perhaps the Ginger Witch was right to let that particular spell expire. Perhaps Kyogo’s decision not to return was painful at the time but necessary for both sides. He has his MLS adventure. Celtic have their new generation.
So, Kyogo, thank you for the memories. Thank you for the goals. Thank you for the magic.
But you chose not to come home. And Celtic moved on.
And somehow, against all the odds, we became champions anyway.
Maybe that was the spell all along. It was certainly magic.
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