WHAT WAS THE FUSS ABOUT?
Cool Celts take tricky situation in stride
FOR Celtic, this was a nondescript Champions League stalemate to savour. In European football’s equivalent of the Wild West, Scotl a nd’ s c hampions produced a r esult and performance as disciplined and welcome as the identical aggregate score against Sweden’s Elfsborg t wo years ago.
It was an evening as far removed from the frantic horrors of Legia Warsaw 12 months ago as it is possible to imagine.
At time up, Celtic’s players hugged and cavorted, the small band of 150 away supporters finally making the mselves heard. Breathing out once more.
Make no mistake. This was a night containing all the potential elements of a Scottish footballing tragedy from the start.
Hot, dry, dustbowl conditions, a bone-hard barren pitch seared further by the din from a hostile home crowd — we have seen the movie before. It rarely ends well.
This was different because Craig Gordon excelled himself with a match-winning save from Richard Almeida in the first half. Yet, in truth, Qarabag were a fairly toothless, ineffectual team who flattered to deceive.
Their threat was sporadic and unconvincing. Celtic might even have won in the dying moments, but did their best work in other areas.
In defence, Emilio Izaguirre and the central defensive pair of Virgil van Dijk and Dedryck Boyata excelled.
Scott Brown, Stefan Johansen and Stuart Armstrong ran tirelessly in temperatures less oppressive t han anticipated.
Nir Bitton ( right), a pre-match doubt, strolled imperiously through the match. There is no secret to the Israeli’s success. He is simply a fine footballer.
It was natural to fear for Celtic at the s t art . The noise in t his Azerbaijani stadium was ferocious. Intimidating and relentless. A test of nerve and concentration as much as ability.
Seeking to protect a 1-0 lead from Glasgow, Ronny Deila’s s i de produced 90 minutes of calm and discipline.
The early minutes were harum s carum. An earsplitting exhibition of nationalist fervour from 30,000 displaced natives of Agdam in their capital city. For all the talk of the scarred, naked pitch, the truth is this. It did Qarabag f ew f avours either.
A team who like to pass the ball, they managed to play their way through the visiting defence on occasion, t he impressive Brazilian Almeida at the heart of everything the home team did. It was always likely to be a night when Gordon, a new two- year contract in his back pocket, would be asked to earn his pay rise.
He did it in superb fashion in 29 minutes, just seconds before an erratic Swedish referee allowed the teams respite with a water break.
In a far from unusual event, Celtic were denied a free kick in the home team’s half, Qarabag breaking with devastating speed up the pitch as Johansen and others argued the toss.
The Azerbaijan champions passed through the midfield with worrying ease, Almeida slamming a side-footed curling shot towards the top right-hand corner until Celtic’s keeper leapt to palm the ball away with his right hand.
It was a moment when Celtic began to believe.
They had survived a frenetic start, Rashad Sadgyov sclaffing a hopeless opportunity from an Almeida corner that was cut back from the edge of the box.
In 35 minutes Qarabag — inevitably — threatened again. Another of their Brazilians, the striker Reynaldo, held the ball up before r ol l i ng a potentially devastating reverse pass into the path of t he Spaniard Dani Quintana.
Not for the first — or last — time, van Dijk was on hand to cover.
By then, Celtic had succeeded in taking some of the sting out of the occasion.
Passing the ball on the ground was a fraught business. For that reason, in a big call, Deila opted to play Nadir Ciftci before the on-form Leigh Griffiths up front yet again.
The theory was well-founded. Ciftci was clearly there to win freekicks in the hope of pushing the play up the pitch and easing the pressure. The surface made set-pieces the likeliest source of a Celtic goal and Ciftci was supposed to win some. He had mixed success. Taking on an unenviable task in temperatures driven down by a cooling breeze, the ball rarely stuck to the £1.5million signing’s feet.
And yet, with the score blank at half-time, Scotland’s champions were halfway there.
The questions over Qarabag’s ability to score goals were growing. Sadgyov’s soaring half volley from a Dani volley was the first effort of the second half for the team in black. It was 16 yards from goal.
Alharbi El Jadeyaoui had another curling effort from the same range which barely tested Gordon.
Preventing the home team from coming any closer was a task becoming more difficult by the minute as referee Marti n Strombergsson showed a marked reluctance to give the frustrated visitors free-kicks.
Celtic managed a rare attacking threat when Armstrong’s sliderule pass threatened to send Ciftci in on goal. The pitch barely helped as the goalkeeper raced from his line to clear.
The midfielder managed a curling shot high and wide moments later. For the first time all night, Celtic’s small rump of 150 supporters banked in the f ar corner made themselves heard. They sensed their team edging closer.
Their need for a goal much greater, Qarabag s e nt on another striker in the form of Elvin Yunuszada.
Deila did likewise, withdrawing Ciftci in 67 minutes for Griffiths. The Turk trotted slowly to the edge of the pitch, in no hurry to resume the play. For Celtic — and Qarabag — every second counted.
Free-kicks were taken at snail’s pace. Keeper Gordon showed all the alacrity of a sloth at goalkicks. All t he while, home frustration mounted.
A second water break in 75 minutes allowed Celtic to take some respite as Kris Commons warmed up for a cameo in place of Gary Mackay-Steven for the final 10 minutes.
The anticipation was it might be frantic. Yet, with minutes remaining, Celtic crafted their best chance of the night. Stuart Armstrong nicked possession, forged forward and picked out Johansen inside the area.
The Norwegian is in a rich vein of scoring form, but smashed his shot inches wide of the left-hand post. Celtic were not there yet.
They created another terrific chance when James Forrest, the third substitute, danced through the Qarabag defence on a superb solo run. He chose to square for Griffiths when a shot might have been wiser. In the end, it mattered little.
Celtic threatened more than Qarabag even as five minutes of injury time went up. Their place in the play-off round draw was all but secure.