BAYERN CLASS HITS HOME
Fabulous Forrest leads the charge for improved Celtic but Munich maestros still call the shots
PARKHEAD may be Celtic’s home, but it’s slowly losing the right to be called their castle. Four years have passed since Scotland’s champions won their last Champions League group game in Glasgow. Against teams of the calibre of Bayern Munich, home comforts are proving hard to find.
This was a night, at least, when they had a performance to cling to. Some small mercies. This was another defeat, a tenth straight group stage home game in the Champions and Europa League without a win. But it never threatened to become the kind of one-sided pummelling inflicted by Neymar’s Paris Saint-Germain. At the end of a brave, courageous performance, few would have begrudged Celtic a point.
James Forrest had his best game at this level, teeing up Callum McGregor for the 74th-minute goal which rocked Parkhead to its foundations and offered the brief, tantalising prospect of a draw. Kieran Tierney celebrated his new contract by playing Arjen Robben like a seasoned old pro. Celtic took the ball, passed it and did everything their manager asked them to do. Everything but win.
Even without the trio of Robert Lewandowski, Thomas Muller and Manuel Neuer, Bayern had the class, the guile, to shift up a gear when they had to. Celtic supporters spent three minutes dreaming of taking a point — maybe more — when reality crashed down from above. Kingsley Coman planted a perfectly-pitched cross on to the head of Javi Martinez. Game over. Brendan Rodgers was understandably upset with the defending which gifted French international Coman a ridiculously easy goal in 22 minutes. Bayern Munich are the last team who need help scoring goals — they do fine under their own steam.
Yet, after some hefty set-backs in a formidable group, Rodgers could see signs of progress here. Evidence his team can at least compete at this level.
‘It’s a huge step for their confidence,’ said the Celtic boss. ‘Now what we have to do is go on and finish off over these next two games.
‘PSG will be a big test for us again but we come back here for the final group game (against Anderlecht) and we want to achieve what we set out to achieve, which is to have European football after Christmas. If we can do that, it’s a great marker and a great measure of how the players are progressing.’
In real terms, nothing has changed for Celtic.
The trip to Paris in three weeks could prove a long night. Yet Europa League football after Christmas hangs on the final game against the Belgians at home. If Parkhead is to rebuild a slightly battered reputation as a European fortress, that’s the night to lay down a foundation.
Make no mistake, a point would have felt like a moral victory for Celtic here.
It was the least Forrest deserved after launching his umpteenth direct incursion of the night on the Bayern back-line with 16 minutes to play. For once, the final ball was absolutely perfect, its grateful recipient McGregor sliding the ball through the spread-eagled legs of keeper Sven Ulreich for 1-1.
The joy was unconstrained, but short-lived. Coman’s cross from the byeline hung in the air for Martinez to climb above Nir Bitton and head the winner.
Might a fit Jozo Simunovic have dealt with it? Possibly. This was a night when Celtic’s defending let them down against a team with an ability to savagely punish mistakes. Despite starting the game well, they lost a selfinflicted and utterly preventable goal.
A long ball from Bayern keeper Ulreich posed minimal threat until Dedryck Boyata — supposed to be the old hand beside Bitton — allowed the ball to bounce encouragingly for Coman to run on to. Even then Celtic might have escaped had Craig Gordon stayed on his line. Instead, the Scotland keeper
came racing out of his box, missing the ball and leaving his goal-line unguarded.
As Coman cut inside, composed himself and tucked the ball low into the net, Gordon made a huge fuss over a handball from the Frenchman. He may have had a case, but Dutch referee Danny Makkelie didn’t think so. Neither could there be an excuse for a self-inflicted comedy of errors. Scotland’s champions were back in an old movie.
Give Celtic this. They managed to compose themselves. They began to make passes and few would have begrudged them an equaliser at the end of a glorious flowing move in 29 minutes. Beginning on their own 18-yard line, Bitton, Scott Sinclair and Tierney were all involved before Stuart Armstrong used his chest to initiate a swift interchange with Moussa Dembele. Dragged wide, the midfielder’s squared ball came to within inches of reaching the French striker until the outstretched leg of David Alaba dealt with the danger.
Celtic had their mojo back. A smidgen of belief. What they didn’t have was a goal. For teams who play Bayern, that’s not unusual. The first act of Jupp Heynckes on returning for a fourth spell in charge was to build an imposing defensive wall. Only RB Leipzig have breached it since he came back.
But that breakthrough Celtic were chasing almost came four minutes after the restart. The onus, as it did all night, came from the direct play of Forrest.
A piercing pass fed Armstrong on the edge of the area and he caught it well, thumping a shot towards the bottom right-hand corner of goal. Ulreich threw himself down, superbly pushing the ball round the post. Another chance was gone.
The arrival of Tom Rogic for the last half hour signalled a final push. Yet Bayern could have doubled their lead in 67 minutes, Coman again cutting the home defence apart to tee up a shooting chance for James Rodriguez. Gordon was equal to it, prodding out his left foot to block.
Celtic, to their credit, would not be denied. The roof of Parkhead almost left its hinges when Forrest again proved the catalyst with a goal made and finished in Scotland, scorer McGregor racing away with his left arm pointing to the sky.
The glee lasted just three brief minutes before being cancelled out by a powerful hanging header from Martinez from ten yards.
‘Javi Martinez can be dangerous when he is in this position,’ said the redoubtable Heynckes afterwards. Don’t Celtic know it.