Three points against St Johnstone. Now let’s get to Ibrox.

So, last night, Celtic won again. Three points, another victory, another game ticked off and another step taken by the Champions of Scotland towards wherever this season is ultimately going to take us. And yet, I have to admit that I came away from last night’s 1-0 victory over St Johnstone with a strange feeling.

It wasn’t disappointment, because Celtic won. It wasn’t anger, because three points are three points and I am never going to complain about Celtic taking them. But there was something in the air, something telling me that this should have been more.

And, as it turned out, it was.

Celtic created chance after chance. We had opportunities to put this game beyond doubt, opportunities to make the evening considerably more comfortable and opportunities to add that second goal which would have killed the game off.

But it never came. Or rather, it did come but we didn’t get it.

Because of that, I felt it coming, that horrible little feeling that if Celtic didn’t take the chances, St Johnstone might somehow find a way back into the game. Football has a wicked sense of humour like that.

Thankfully, it didn’t happen and Celtic got the job done. But if I am giving my English-teacher verdict rather than simply celebrating the result, then I’m going to say this: it could have been better. Much better.

Because Celtic are not just another team in Scotland. We are the Champions of Scotland, and sometimes I look at this Celtic side and wonder where the dazzling football has disappeared to. Last night we fell short of our best, quite a way short.

I wonder where that feeling of power, that feeling that Celtic can simply overwhelm teams because we are Celtic, has hidden itself. Martin O’Neill was wondering the same thing; I found his comments after the match reflected my own feelings pretty well.

Since this season started, we have swung wildly one way and then the other. The form appears sometimes. Then it disappears again.

And I don’t like that. Neither does Martin O’Neill.

I don’t want Celtic to become a team who are satisfied with doing just enough. I want us to be greedy. I want us to be ruthless. I want us to smell blood and go for the throat. I want that Champions’ mentality to be visible not just on the biggest European nights or when Celtic Park is roaring, but on an ordinary night against St Johnstone when everyone expects Celtic to win. Because that is what Champions do.

They don’t merely win. They impose themselves. And perhaps that is the biggest thing I am still waiting to see consistently from this Celtic team.

There is quality here. Of course there is. There are players capable of producing moments that make me jump out of my chair, and there is talent all over this squad. But sometimes I get the feeling that some of our dazzling players are holding something back, and when they do, the whole team becomes less dangerous, less sharp and less frightening.

That is what bothers me. I don’t expect Celtic to play like Brazil every single week. I’m not completely unrealistic. There will be ugly victories, there will be games where the ball simply refuses to go into the net, and there will be evenings when three points matter more than aesthetics. Last night was one of those nights.

But I still want more.

Still, let’s pay tribute to the man of the match and the one who got the only goal of the game; Mika Baur. What a moment for him.

His first Celtic goal, coming in the 52nd minute after Haissem Hassan drove the ball across the box. It ultimately settled the match. Baur had looked good before last night, but it was certainly the night he properly announced himself with his first goal and an all round performance which had me cheering.

One goal. Three points. Job done. And I am delighted for him.

There is something special about seeing a new Celtic player get his first goal. It immediately creates a little piece of Celtic history for that player. He will always remember the night at McDiarmid Park when he opened his account in green and white.

I hope it is the first of many. So, Mika, you’ve got your first one.

Now give me more. Because that’s what I want from everybody wearing that shirt. More hunger, more courage, more personality, more quality and more of that beautiful Celtic arrogance that says: we are here to win this.

And while I am talking about winning, I have to mention the other result from last night.

St Mirren. Oh, St Mirren.

You had one job. One wee job. And you came so very, very close. The Ibrox mob won, and I am more than furious about it. You guys were robbed, especially as you could very easily have been playing against ten men at 0-0.

A goal one minute into injury time. Robbery. It would have been absolutely smashing if St Mirren had gone to Ibrox and ruined their evening, wouldn’t it? A wee favour. A wee gift. A wee bit of trauma inflicted on the home team before we come to town.

And suddenly, my attention turns towards Sunday. 13 September. Ibrox. No Celtic supporters in the stadium. That still feels wrong to me.

But if there is one thing I want from Celtic on Sunday, it is this: go there and remind them who the Champions of Scotland are. Not with words. With football. With goals. With hunger. With strength. With that Celtic mentality I have been looking for.

I want Celtic to walk into that stadium knowing exactly who they are. I want the players to look at that shirt and understand what it represents. I want them to play with the confidence of Champions and the aggression of a team that has absolutely no intention of handing anything to the Ibrox mob.

And yes, I want us to beat them. I don’t merely want a cautious little victory. I want Celtic to make a statement. I want us to smash them into smithereens. I want them greeting. I want them suffering. I want them looking at the scoreboard and wondering what on earth has just happened to them.

Because if Celtic can find that spark, that hunger, that strength and that dazzling quality which sometimes seems to disappear into thin air, then I genuinely believe we can hurt them. And perhaps this is exactly the game for it.

Perhaps this is where the Champions wake up. Perhaps this is where the green and white lion remembers just how powerful it can be.

Last night wasn’t dazzling. It wasn’t the performance that made me sit back and say, “Oh yes, that is Celtic.” But it was a victory, and victories matter. So, bravo, Celtic.

You did it again. You got the three points, stayed perfect in the league and kept winning, while Mika Baur gave us his first goal for the club. Celtic are now six wins from six in the Premiership. But now I want more.

I want the Celtic I know is in there somewhere. I want the dazzling Celtic, the hungry Celtic, the powerful Celtic. The Celtic who don’t simply want to win but absolutely expect to win.

Sunday is coming. And I don’t care that St Mirren didn’t do us that wee favour. We don’t need favours. We can do this ourselves. So, Celtic, please. On Sunday, just go to Ibrox and show that mob exactly who the Champions of Scotland are.

Go there, play like Champions, fight like Champions and win like Champions.

Make them greet. Make them suffer. Make them remember. We are Celtic. We are the Champions. And we are coming for you.

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