Pulse is found in Festival of the Dead
ALL Saints Day in Germany is known as the Festival of the Dead. Shops close their doors. Blinds are drawn. Church bells peal solemnly.
On the outskirts of Monchengladbach last night, however, such reverence was momentarily suspended as the two bottom sides in Group C attempted to stay in the land of the living as far as the Champions League is concerned.
When it was over, the men from Scotland still had colour in their cheeks. Brendan Rodgers’ side deservedly live to fight another day in the competition.
With two points from four games so far, and the small matter of Barcelona and Manchester City to come, it goes without saying that any hopes of reaching the last 16 in this year’s tournament remain on life support.
But the fact there is still a pulse says much for the restorative work the Northern Irishman has overseen in this, his first full season in charge at the club.
This was a vast improvement on the listless display at Celtic Park two weeks ago. Despite their depleted numbers, Celtic were more like the side we had seen rattle Manchester City. Monchengladbach, truthfully, rarely hit the heights seen during their 2-0 triumph in Glasgow.
When Lars Stindl volleyed beyond Craig Gordon just after the half hour, the fans must have feared a rerun of a dreary old movie. Celtic under Rodgers are made of sterner stuff, though.
Having worked their way into the contest, Moussa Dembele won and converted the penalty that revives Celtic’s interest in the group.
By the end, the ten men of Borussia were hanging on. Rodgers waved his players forward. When Callum McGregor went clear on goal with three minutes left, a first win in seven attempts looked probable. Painfully, he dragged his shot wide of the far post.
But Celtic have nothing to reproach themselves for. This was another outcome that, frankly, has been beyond them for too long.
What a backdrop Borussia-Park presented. The home of Gladbach may be modern, shiny and hanging onto the edge of town, but its atmosphere was miles away from so many of the soulless modern arenas you encounter.
It was as if the Borussia fans had taken the praise heaped upon Celtic Park two weeks ago as a personal affront. They made their home an intimidating riot of noise and colour. The Nordkurve, the double-tier north stand, could have drowned out a fleet of jet engines on its own.
The 2,500 who had travelled from Scotland, plus some pockets of stowaways dotted throughout the home support, did their utmost to make themselves heard, but it was a tall order.
‘Play, fight, sing,’ was the cover message of the match programme. Not that the home legions had to be told.
The co-ordinated cacophony was ceaseless, constantly imploring their heroes to reach greater heights. On the outside walls, giant montages paid homage to the heroes of the halcyon days of the 1970s, an era in which five Bundesliga titles were won and a European Cup Final reached.
But, while once names like Berti Vogts, Rainer Bonhof and Jupp Heynckes illustrated not just the glory days but the fallow period that followed, the reborn Gladbach can celebrate the past without feeling doleful about the present.
The Foals, as Andre Schubert’s side are known, may have come into this game having failed to score in four of their past five Bundesliga games, but the expectation was that they would soon be galloping again.
For Rodgers, an already huge task was made all the more difficult by the loss of Leigh Griffiths, Kolo Toure, Jozo Simunovic and Kieran Tierney through illness and injury.
A makeshift defence and a threadbare bench was the consequence.
Too often down the years, Celtic’s adventures on the road had been pockmarked by the loss of an early goal. Defensively, Rodgers’ side looked assured. Yet such sterling work was undone by early slackness in midfield, making forays towards Yann Sommer’s goal difficult.
The infuriating thing from Rodgers’ perspective was that Gladbach looked a shadow of the side which dominated at Celtic Park. Not nearly the same intensity of pressing or the passing accuracy.
Sure, Gordon denied Tobias Strobl after the defender had beaten the offside trap, but this was a far more even contest. Had Scott Sinclair’s shot bounced in off the inside of the post rather than into the keeper’s arms, it would only just have been against the run of play. All of which made the Germans’ opener all the harder for Rodgers to stomach. Emilio Izaguirre was guilty of ball-watching as Thorgan Hazard drifted in behind him. The accuracy of his cross was matched by that of Stindl’s stinging volley.
Celtic just about remained afloat as the interval approached. Too often, however, a patient build-up ended with a wayward final ball. James Forrest may well have been dragged to the ground 20 yards from goal by Christoph Kramer, but Stuart Armstrong’s subsequent blast into the stand was typically wasteful.
Again, in the opening exchanges of the second half, Armstrong failed to nudge the ball into Sinclair’s path as the goal opened up. Another moment which tends to separate the wheat from the chaff in this most unforgiving tournament.
When Fabian Johnson ran the length of the park to prevent Sinclair netting with the game in the balance, Rodgers just looked to the heavens. It seemed to be one of those nights.
Andre Hahn striking the bar kept Celtic believing then a rare chance for Dembele forced Sommer to parry.
Rogic and Forrest made way for Patrick Roberts and McGregor and more questions were asked.
When Dembele got goal-side of Julian Korb, it seemed to take an age for Manuel de Sousa to point to the spot and produce the red card.
The Frenchman calmly made up for his aberration in the Nou Camp to restore both parity and hope that this campaign isn’t done yet.
McGregor might even have pinched it at the death but Rodgers will reflect on this as a hard point well won. It might just be the start of something.