Not for a while have I endured a week with such fear in my heart. I tried to distract myself; during Chelsea and Liverpool’s epic 4-4 draw at Stamford Bridge I was the only man in Britain watching Bayern play Barcelona on ITV4. It’s not often my second and third teams appear on terrestrial UK television and the prospect of an exciting game between the Blues and the Reds is a case of the boy crying wolf. Even though the Bavarian-Catalan match-up was meaningless, I’d rather watch Frank Ribery and Leo Messi than Lucas Leiva and Petr Cech. Apparently the game in London was superb – part of me doubts it even happened. Maybe Frank Lampard and Fernando Torres sat down and bashed out a 90 minute game of Pro Evo which Uefa consented to broadcast in the interest of avoiding player burnout? I was content watching teams I have some affiliation with – I’ve spent more time sipping Löwenbräu in München’s English Garden than I ever have in the actual English capital. But Munich and Barca are attractive bits on the side. I’m married to a team in Glasgow and they’re the one I’m worried about.

With justification at the turn of the year I trumpeted Celtic’s impending fourth consecutive SPL title. The Bhoys had a seven point lead over Rangers, we’d just beaten the huns on their own patch and things were looking up. I wrote confidently on January 1^st that Celtic had the players to easily win this championship. Even allowing for injuries and dips of form Celtic still had enough players to not fail in this relatively simple task: keep our rivals at arm’s length and don’t give them a sniff. They do not deserve to be close to us. Little did I know our chosen leader would surrender his faith in his own players at exactly the wrong time.

Foreigners who pay no attention to Scottish football may be surprised to know Celtic have only won one away game this year. Our home record remains impeccable. The European fortress of Celtic Park, for the most part, retains similar repute domestically. But the promising football home fans are treated to when Aiden McGeady, Shunsuke Nakamura and Marc Crosas are applied together is hastily forgotten when Celtic are on the road. And it’s all because our manager Gordon Strachan lacks the courage of his convictions. When he arrived he preached about playing football properly; ball on the ground etc.. But when Celtic travel he selects an inferior team which goes out, drops points, then he blames the opposition’s grounds men for failing to provide a carpet upon which Celtic can come along and massacre each little club. The only problem with this is, not all the pitches in Scotland are as bad as his team selection would imply. And what logic is this anyway? A good player on a bad surface is still better than a bad player on a bad surface. It’s soul-destroying enough when Nou Camp academy graduate Crosas is dropped for an ageing Scotch journeyman midfielder. It must hurt even more when he’s left out and replaced by an immobile centre-half with quixotic aspirations of playing libero.

In getting annoyed by Strachan’s team selection he would claim I am doing a disservice to the opposing sides which make up Scotland’s Premier League. Some would argue you need to pick the right team to play the opponent. My response to that would be “bull-shit”! Yes, when confronting superior enemies you learn what you can. When Celtic visit the San Siro or Old Trafford I assume we do our home work. But I’ve grown up in a time when domestically Celtic feared going nowhere. I’ve watched sides led by Tommy Burns, Wim Jansen, Dr Jo Venglos, Martin O’Neill and even John Barnes go to places like Pittodrie and Tynecastle and rack up cricket scores. We now have a manager who’s pleased when he leaves with a draw. This isn’t good enough. Jock Stein famously claimed “Celtic jerseys are not for second best, they don't shrink to fit inferior players". Evidently the same cannot be said for Celtic’s other sideline apparel. I clearly have faith in some of Celtic’s players. Unfortunately the man in charge has faith in others. He’s apparently the expert, but statistics suggest Strachan is wrong as often as he is right. Which I think just isn’t good enough for Celtic Football Club.

Now any reader coaxed enough by this article to go and look at the SPL table may be alarmed to see Celtic sit top by one point. “What’s all the fuss about?” “Why so angry?” Well the repercussions of winning this title, more than any before it, could be gigantic. Our rivals across Glasgow are financially next to death’s door. In European football money only exists in two places; the Premier League and the Champions League. We’re not allowed to play in England (and I never want us to try) so Uefa’s showcase tournament is the only teat from which famished clubs can taste some milk and this summer only one team from Scotland is invited to the dairy. Second place virtually guarantees a qualifier where Celtic or Rangers would meet an Arsenal or the likes – I have nightmares thinking what Andrei Arshavin would do to Lee Naylor.

If Celtic win this year’s league it could knock our biggest rivals back into the stone ages. Schadenfreude? You better believe it. As for people who think Celtic and Rangers are a ying-and-yang that require each other to survive – we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now I just want to bask in the belief that one day they won’t even exist.

When Celtic won the league in 1998 after nine dreadful years it felt like Star Wars’ Rebel Alliance destroying the first Death Star as is orbited around the moon of Yavin. A victory this season would be like the destruction of the second Death Star complete with collapse of the Empire. Celtic must win this title. Celtic should still win this title. But our manager's mistakes have thrown our rivals a life line. Time will tell whether or not they use it.