Seventy-one days on from his last appearance in the Celtic dugout, Martin O’Neill finds himself riding a familiar emotional wave.
There’s excitement, of course — the buzz of returning to a club that still feels like home.
But running alongside it is a quiet nervousness, the knowledge that this time might not play out quite as neatly as before.
A comeback at 73 is never just about tactics and team talks.
It’s about confronting doubt, memory, and expectation all at once.
A Personal Loss That Still Stings
Away from football, the past couple of weeks have been heavy.
The death of John Robertson, O’Neill’s close friend and long-time collaborator, has left a deep mark.
Their bond stretched back decades — from Nottingham Forest teammates to partners on the Celtic sidelines — and losing him has brought not just sadness, but regret.
O’Neill had planned to see Robertson in recent months but never managed it.
Family illness intervened, and time slipped away.
When the call came on Christmas Day that Robertson had passed, it hit hard.
He admits he still wrestles with conflicting emotions: wanting to remember his friend as the vibrant figure he always was, while feeling disappointed in himself for not making that final visit. Confusion, guilt, grief — they all sit together.
Remembering “Robbo” the Man and the Player
John Robertson was more than a great mate.
He was a footballer of rare quality, a key figure in Brian Clough’s legendary Nottingham Forest side that conquered England and Europe.
Later, he became the perfect sounding board for O’Neill as he moved into management.
Warm, modest, and deeply respected, Robertson was admired not just for what he’d achieved, but for how he carried himself.
Even as Parkinson’s disease took its toll, he remained dignified — sometimes even reluctant to speak on the phone, embarrassed by his struggles.
O’Neill jokes now about being jealous of all the praise Robertson received, but it’s said with affection.
There’s no doubt he’s lost someone truly irreplaceable.
What Would Robbo Say About This Return?
O’Neill can picture it clearly: a huge grin and a shake of the head.
A third spell at Celtic? Robertson would have laughed, maybe told him he was mad.
And O’Neill doesn’t entirely disagree. Part of him knows that walking away would have been the sensible choice.
Sense, however, has never been his guiding principle.
The Comeback That Wouldn’t Go Away
When Brendan Rodgers departed in October, O’Neill answered Dermot Desmond’s call and steadied the ship with seven wins from eight.
The contrast with Wilfried Nancy’s results only strengthened the case for bringing the old master back once more.
Supporters now hope for another dose of magic, an instant revival.
That expectation makes O’Neill uncomfortable. He knows football doesn’t work on reputation alone.
Every match is a test. Every result a verdict.
Living With Pressure — Then and Now
That reality has followed O’Neill since his early managerial days, when he and Robertson were trying to establish themselves at Wycombe.
The pressure never eased — and in some ways, he believes it’s what kept him going.
He doesn’t deny the anxiety. Losing games chips away at confidence, both inside and outside the club.
But the desire to compete never left him.
Yes, he loves Celtic. But more than that, he still wants to be in football.
Age hasn’t dulled that instinct.
Legacy? He’s Not Interested
If returning risks damaging his legacy, O’Neill isn’t bothered.
He wasn’t last year, and he isn’t now.
What concerns him is losing matches — because that’s when the whispers start.
Too old. Stayed too long. Should have walked away earlier.
He even reaches for a Pink Floyd lyric to explain it: the same old fears, year after year.
The worry never disappears. It never has.
Competitive to the Core
Despite a knee that needs surgery, O’Neill’s edge remains sharp.
He tells a story about playing badminton with his six-year-old granddaughter and refusing to let her win — even when it ended in tears.
To him, that’s the point. If you play, you compete.
That fire still burns, however ridiculous it might seem.
Watching From the Outside — Briefly
During his short spell away, O’Neill kept a close eye on Celtic, missing only one half of football due to a prior commitment.
He turned down punditry offers for major games, uncomfortable with the idea of being a manager-in-waiting in the stands.
He knows how that looks. He’s been there before.
Sympathy for a Man Caught in the Wrong Moment
O’Neill feels genuine sympathy for Wilfried Nancy.
He believes the former manager was well-liked, respected, and let down by circumstance more than character.
But football is unforgiving. Systems, philosophies, good intentions — none of it matters if results don’t follow.
That’s the job. Always has been.
Another Twist in a Strange Season
In a campaign already filled with odd turns, O’Neill’s return feels surreal.
Some still believe he never should have left. If Dermot Desmond agrees, he hasn’t said so.
Their conversations, O’Neill says, are brief. When the call comes, he’s expected to answer.
Back in the Dugout, Back Among Memories
When Celtic face Dundee United, O’Neill will be back on the touchline, surrounded by echoes of past triumphs — many of them shared with Robertson.
He likes to think his old friend would approve.
And as for what he’d be doing otherwise? Sitting in a café, complaining, passing time.
That was never going to be enough.
For better or worse, Martin O’Neill is exactly where he wants to be — worries, doubts, memories, and all.
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