Celtic has fallen from Munich to this. But there is still hope here.

How the hell did we get here? That is the question I keep asking myself when I look at Celtic today.

How did a Celtic side capable of standing toe-to-toe with some of the biggest clubs in European football become this tactical, structural and, at times, completely disjointed mess?

How did the team that made Bayern Munich work for every inch of the pitch, the team that pushed RB Leipzig, the team that reached the knockout stages of the Champions League under Brendan Rodgers, become a Celtic side that sometimes looks as though it has forgotten what its own identity is?

I keep going back to those European nights because they matter. They showed us what Celtic could become. They showed us a team capable of competing, not simply turning up and hoping not to be embarrassed. Bayern had more resources. Leipzig had greater financial power and deeper squads. Nobody pretended otherwise.

But Celtic went into those games and made those teams uncomfortable. That is what makes the current situation so bloody frustrating.

Because I genuinely believed we were moving forward.

Instead, Celtic have gone dramatically backwards. So, what the hell happened?

The biggest failure, for me, is that Celtic did not build properly on the foundations those European performances gave us.

We saw what worked. We saw intensity, organisation and bravery. We saw players understanding their jobs and a Celtic team capable of competing without being overwhelmed by the occasion.

Most importantly, we saw an identity.

That should have become the starting point.

Celtic should have looked at those performances and said: this is the level we want to reach consistently now. Instead, it feels as though we have spent too much time resetting.

Another manager. Another tactical idea. Another recruitment cycle. Another group of players trying to understand each other.

And now we are standing here wondering what happened to the Celtic team we thought was beginning to emerge. That is the painful part.

We did not simply lose games. We lost direction.

Football is not just about talented individuals.

It is about structure and relationships. It is about players knowing where their teammates will be before they even receive the ball. It is about knowing when to press, when to drop, when to attack space and when to protect the defence.

That is what worries me when I watch Celtic now.

I do not simply see individual mistakes. I see disconnection.

The defence does not always look protected by the midfield. The midfield does not always look connected to the attack. The attackers can become isolated. The pressing can become inconsistent. The shape on the pitch can look completely different from whatever formation was written down before kick-off.

And when things go wrong, I do not always see a clear response.

That frightens me more than one defeat ever could. Because Celtic should have a football identity that survives individual players and individual managers.

Players come and go. Managers come and go. The identity should remain. That is why I cannot stop thinking about those Champions League nights.

We were there. We actually bloody were. Celtic were competing against elite opposition and producing performances which made people outside Scotland take notice.

I remember watching those matches and thinking: this is the beginning. Not the end.

I thought Celtic would use those experiences as a platform. I thought recruitment would become smarter. I thought the squad would become deeper and the tactical understanding more sophisticated.

I thought we would learn how to manage different kinds of European games.

Instead, I am sitting here asking how a club which looked capable of climbing higher has managed to slide backwards, and not by a little but by a lot.

And Europe is ruthless about exposing that. Europe tells you exactly where you are.

Weaknesses which can sometimes be hidden domestically become enormous when you face better sides. Poor positioning is punished. Slow decision-making is punished. Tactical confusion is punished.

Right now, Celtic do not look like a team operating at the level of organisation our ambitions demand. And the answer cannot simply be to buy another player or change the manager. You cannot keep throwing individuals into a system which is not functioning properly and then wonder why they struggle.

Recruitment matters enormously, but recruitment without structure is just collecting footballers. Coaching matters too, but coaching without the right environment becomes another temporary fix. Even a high-calibre manager needs the support, authority and football infrastructure required to do the job properly.

That is why Celtic have to think bigger.

Much bigger.

But this is also where my Ginger Witch instincts kick in, because I refuse to believe this is the end of Celtic. Absolutely not.

I have seen the other Celtic. I have seen the Celtic that fights Bayern Munich. I have seen Celtic stand in front of major European opposition and refuse to be intimidated. I have seen Celtic Park become a wall of noise and green and white.

That Celtic is real. Our Celtic is real. It has not disappeared.

But it has to be found again, and finding it will require more than shouting about passion or remembering great nights. It requires proper football decisions. It requires tactical clarity, coherent squad building, leadership and accountability. It requires Celtic to stop accepting temporary fixes where long-term structure is needed.

And yes, it requires the manager and coaching staff to look honestly at what is not working. Football is not a religion where you have to worship one formation or one tactical idea forever. If something does not work, change it.

Adaptation is not weakness. Adaptation is intelligence.

So, can Celtic come back?

I believe we can. And I do not mean simply winning another Scottish league title. I mean the real Celtic. The Celtic with courage, structure and personality. The Celtic that believes it belongs on the European stage. The Celtic that does not walk onto a pitch against Bayern Munich asking how to survive. The Celtic that asks how we can hurt them.

That is the Celtic I want back.

Because I refuse to accept that those Champions League nights were beautiful accidents which happened before everything began to fall apart. They were evidence. Evidence of what Celtic can be when the football, the tactics, the recruitment, the mentality and the atmosphere all come together.

The failure has been what happened afterwards.

Celtic have failed the test of progression. We reached a level which promised so much, and instead of building upwards, we allowed too many cracks to appear underneath us.

But I am not writing Celtic off.

Somewhere beneath this tactical mess, beneath the structural problems and beneath all the frustration, I still believe there is a sleeping giant.

The green and white lion of Celtic Park is still there.

It just needs to wake up again.

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