Too hot to handle.

Motherwell 2 v 3 Celtic 13/05/2026.

Scottish football has it’s very own Zapruder film this morning. Stills, adjusted frame rates and even doctored images are being circulated in order to prove conclusively, whether or not Celtic’s injury time penalty can match a narrative, or confirm a bias.

Footage of a first half barge in the back of Daizen Maeda, has strangely gone missing.

Controversy and drama, the likes of which we’ve never seen. A title race, the likes of which we’ve never seen. At least not in my lifetime.

We’re now witnessing a climbdown this morning from the frothing fulmination in the immediate aftermath of the game. It was not in fact “Disgusting”, it was a handball. It wasn’t in fact “The worst VAR decision in history”, it was fairly routine for handball decisions. His hand was above his head and touched the ball, is the long and the short of it.

The level of condescension towards Scottish football over the last months, has been truly staggering. The spate of fans and pundits - with no interest in Scottish football - who suddenly, are desperate for Hearts to win the title, for sheer novelty alone, have had their say. David Orstein (The Athletic) was on Sky Sports last night, giving his opinion. Embarrassingly uninformed and lacking in insight, he suggested Hearts should win the title because “They’ve played really good football all season.” An opinion shared by absolutely no one.

Highbrow stuff indeed David. Thanks.

It’s understandable. Hearts are the underdog, the hero in this would be magical fairy-tale, that could still unfold. That Celtic are the natural villain also makes perfect sense.

What seems lost though, to all those casting Celtic as their Bête Noir is that Hearts and Rangers are the flagships of the type of modernity everyone loathes apparently. This is not organic in any sense. Rangers are a sub department of a footballing conglomerate. Another workstream of a corporate fund. There’s another branch in Leeds. Hearts are merely another folder in Tony Bloom’s portfolio. Not mainlined with cash like Rangers but data doped. An algorithm with a maroon top on.

Spare me your wistful, doe-eyed romanticism.

Motherwell 2 v Celtic 3 – 13/03/2026.

Kelechi Iheanacho is cool. Do you not what’s cooler than being cool? Ice cool.

The Nigerian clearly carries a little weight above the waistline but it’s fair to say, he carries a fair amount just below it as well. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t watch. This was pure concentrated pressure in the 95^th minute. Literally the last kick of the game.

The 29-year-old had no such problems; his effrontery even allowed him to look the keeper dead in the eyes, before sitting him down and slotting it in the bottom corner. It was a clear illustration of the quality of the player.

Motherwell’s performance had been impressive. They move the ball as a neat collective. A rotating swarm of players, drifting around the ball, they take turns to pop up and sting you. Coordinated patterns and rehearsed runners caused plenty trouble throughout. They took the lead in the 18^th minute, via Watt’s deflected effort.

Celtic steadied though. Maeda is a man possessed at the minute. Having missed a similar chance earlier, he found himself with the ball on his left foot, left of goal. Whereas he shanked the previous effort, he finished in an unstoppable manner on this occasion. Head down, in stride, bang, far post. It was a lethal finish; his 7^th goal in 5 games.

Shortly before half time, Celtic were inexplicably denied a penalty after Motherwell’s keeper collided stormed out his goal and collided with Maeda in the box. Bizarrely, it was given little attention.

The enigma that is Benjamin Nygren was next to have his say. Having touched the ball out of his stride to set up a vicious shot from 25 yards. An almost knuckleball strike, it flew off his laces, dipping and swerving indiscriminately, before finding the top corner, to give Celtic a priceless lead.

The game stewed intermittently from here. Motherwell’s enthusiasm swelled ominously around the 75^th minute and again, they started to pick Celtic apart. The team looked leggy at this point and offered as much resistance, as a bead curtain.

Sinasalo made a great save at his bottom corner, before a deflected cross struck the crossbar minutes later. Eventually, Celtic’s defence gave way. A sclaffed clearance was turned back towards goal and blocked, the rebound was then saved again by Sinisalo, only for it to fall perfectly for Liam Gordon, 5 yards from goal. 2 – 2 and hanging on.

Hearts were 3-0 up at this point. Celtic would need to win by 3 on the last day. Optimism was blunted by the reality of it all.

Cue the madness, the penalty and unbridled joy from the Celtic end.

To be fair, I don’t have words. I don’t know how I did that. We done it. The fans are still shouting - Kelechi Iheanacho

All’s well, that ends well etc etc. One way or another, it all ends on Saturday.

Tynecastle.

Like in 86, the news filtered through.

A whole stadium crestfallen. The realisation dropped hard on the Hearts players and fans. What was about to be a celebration, had turned to mourning en masse. A winning lottery ticket, whipped away by a gale force wind. There one second, gone the next.

The consequence of the result was lost on no one. Hearts had emptied almost all their ammo into the bad guy, only to see him getting up on his feet again.

Hearts have one bullet left.

It’s disgusting - Derek McInnes