James Forrest
The Emperor of Ice Cream
There are moments in football when something doesn’t feel right, when the coincidences are stacked too neatly, the timing is too precise, and the messaging sounds like it’s been rehearsed rather than spontaneous.
Celtic fans are watching one of those moments unfold right now with the sudden emergence of Shaun Maloney’s name being floated as a potential successor in the dugout.
On the face of it, that might not seem like a huge deal.
Maloney is a Celtic man, a fine player in his time, someone many supporters have fond memories of. If he were being mentioned in the same breath as the manager’s job years down the line, after proving himself, few would object.
But that’s not what’s happening here.
Maloney was hired by the club not all that long ago and placed in a position where, on paper at least, he seemed vastly overqualified if you judged it purely on his CV.
We’re talking about a guy who had been assistant manager of Belgium, working alongside one of the most talented national squads in Europe, and who has also been in the dugout in his own right as a boss. His hiring as pathways manager at Celtic looked, at the time, like a very progressive step — bringing in someone immensely well qualified to handle the development side of the job.
But right from the start, people have wondered if there wasn’t perhaps another agenda at work. Was Maloney being brought into the club, put in that role, so that his eventual elevation to the manager’s job could be framed as the natural next step?
Because if that was the idea, it’s deeply flawed.
Maloney may be overqualified for the post he currently occupies, but he is staggeringly underqualified to be the manager of Celtic. He is nowhere near the calibre of candidate this club is going to require next summer.
We’ve talked here already about Charlie Mulgrew, another ex-player with Celtic credentials, who popped up to tell us that the fanbase is being too hasty, that we should stop all this talk of revolution and get behind the team. That on its own wouldn’t be remarkable — there are plenty of folk out there rolling out some version of that line. But Mulgrew already has a cloud of suspicion over him for previous pro-board comments.
Now he’s gone further. He’s started talking up Maloney as a managerial candidate.
Now we’re in different territory.
I’ve been writing about Mulgrew’s position for a couple of weeks now, but I’m not the only one who finds his comments about Maloney troubling and more than a little suspect. A couple of the other blogs — including Read Celtic, run by my good friend and podcast colleague Eric Knott — have already picked up on this and asked the same question: is this part of a wider agenda?
I’ll be honest with you, it smells fishy. It smells suspect. This is one of the most well known of all PR and political stratagems: the trial balloon.
Introduce an idea early, seed it through sympathetic voices, and see how it lands. If the response is catastrophic, you can deny you were ever serious. If the response is mixed, you can keep pushing it. And if the response is softer than expected, then you’ve already softened up resistance for the day when you make it official.
Let’s break it down.
Step one: Introduce the name
You don’t have Lawwell or Nicholson come out and float Shaun Maloney as a candidate. That would trigger immediate fury. Instead, you have someone like Mulgrew do it. A friendly voice. A club insider by reputation if not by contract.
A guy fans still think of as “one of us.” That way the idea sounds organic. It doesn’t look like PR spin. It looks like a mate with a microphone musing aloud.
Step two: Wrap it in soft messaging
Mulgrew doesn’t just name-drop Maloney. He ties him to a broader appeal for unity. The script is always the same: we’re being hasty, we need stability, we should get behind the team. Maloney’s name isn’t presented as a radical change but as a stabilising option. He’s not “the bold new gamble” — he’s “the calm hand already in the building.”
Step three: Watch the reaction
If fans reject it outright, no problem. The idea was only ever “chatter.” If some fans latch on, the seed is planted. The next time Maloney’s name comes up, it’s not new. It’s familiar. And familiarity is half the battle.
The more we hear an idea, the more normal it feels. That’s psychology 101 — the mere exposure effect. By the time the board makes a real move, the anger has already been vented, the novelty has worn off, and the debate shifts from “should he even be considered?” to “is he the right fit right now?”
This is narrative seeding, plain and simple.
And once you recognise it, you see it everywhere.
Governments do this constantly. They leak ideas to the press not to inform the public, but to test them. These leaks are called “trial balloons.”
Think back to 2002–2003 and the Iraq war build-up.
The case for war wasn’t made in one dramatic announcement. It was built drip by drip. First, “sources” whispered about weapons of mass destruction. Then newspapers speculated about Saddam’s links to terrorism. Then intelligence chiefs gave briefings.
Each step was designed to normalise the idea that Iraq was a threat. By the time war was openly on the table, the debate wasn’t “should we invade Iraq?” but whether or not we should wait for the UN before we did it.
The central question had already been shifted.
Closer to home, look at austerity after the 2008 crash.
Before George Osborne stood at a podium with his “there is no alternative” mantra, the ground had been softened with months of planted stories about “maxed out credit cards,” “belt-tightening,” and “living within our means.”
Those phrases were repeated so often that by the time austerity was formally announced, the frame had been set. The public had already been conditioned to see the deficit like a household overdraft. Debate about whether cuts were necessary at all was drowned out. The only argument left was about how deep they should go.
It’s the same with welfare reform, immigration policy, even climate debates. First you float an idea in the press. Then you let the outrage flare and die. Then you come back later with the “serious” version, and suddenly what was once unthinkable feels inevitable.
This isn’t conspiracy theory. It’s documented political practice. Every government does it. Every corporation does it. And football clubs — especially ones like Celtic with deeply entrenched boards — do it too.
If you were sitting in Lawwell’s office right now, sketching out a succession plan, what kind of candidate would you want?
Someone with gravitas, international experience, a proven ability to demand resources and push back against the suits? Even if you did – which they don’t – nobody like that is going to come here and work for these people.
That leaves someone young, without the kind of CV where he’ll ever get an offer this good, and thus grateful for the opportunity — someone who’ll toe the line because he knows he’s been given a chance far above his proven skillset.
You don’t have to be Machiavelli to see why Shaun Maloney is attractive to this board. He ticks all their boxes.
He’s not a threat. He’s not going to rock the boat. He’s going to be thankful, compliant, easy to spin as a “club man.” And because he’s already inside the structure, you can sell him as continuity. You don’t have to justify why you passed on better candidates — you can frame it as a sensible promotion from within.
This is exactly how this board has operated. We’ve seen it. We’ve seen Lennon chosen twice because he has supporter name recognition and will work within the structure. We’ve seen Nicholson promoted from within. We saw Mark Lawwell brought in. We’ve seen the elevation of Peter Lawwell to chairman … these people have demonstrated a clear propensity for exactly this sort of thinking.
Add Mulgrew into the mix, and it looks even dodgier. He’s not just any pundit throwing out an opinion. He’s someone who was recently interviewed for a major role in our academy setup despite having no qualifications for it. That in itself tells you the board sees him as someone they want to bring inside the tent.
So, when Mulgrew suddenly appears in the media urging caution, telling us not to back the Renewal campaign, and in the same breath pushing Maloney, it doesn’t look like coincidence. It looks like narrative management. He’s being used — willingly or not — as a delivery system for the board’s test balloon.
And let’s not forget the timing.
This weekend is the first big step for the Renewal of Celtic campaign. The fanbase is about to send a visible signal to the board that we’re not on the escalatory ladder. This is the moment the board has been dreading — the shift from grumbling to organised action.
So what do they do? They push back.
Not with direct confrontation, but with soft power. With messages of “unity” and “patience.” With reassurances that the club already has a plan. With a name — Maloney — dangled in front of us as proof that succession planning could go smoothly because the answer to the summer’s intractable problem is already in the building.
We’ve also had a leak about new contract negotiations with Maeda and, this morning, a story about how we’re actively scouting a winger. An unimpressive story, for many reasons, but one designed to get people thinking about the possibilities in January and beyond rather than confront the realities we’re faced with now.
It’s clever, in a cynical way. The aim is to blunt momentum before it builds. To make fans question whether their protests are “helpful.” To split the movement between those who think we should push harder and those who think we should give the board the benefit of the doubt. Divide and rule, dressed up as continuity.
This isn’t really about Shaun Maloney.
He could turn out to be a fine coach in time. It’s about the way ideas are smuggled into the conversation, the way the board tries to condition us into accepting their choices before they’re even officially made. It’s about softening resistance, normalising mediocrity, and shifting the debate onto their ground.
Fans need to recognise the tactic for what it is. Call it out. Don’t get bogged down in debating the merits of Maloney.
Keep the focus where it belongs: on a board that has lost legitimacy, that clings to control, and that uses soft power to disguise its lack of vision.
This board has no mandate left.
Every major supporters’ group has made that clear. The Renewal campaign is about accountability, transparency, and ambition. Against that backdrop, the sudden emergence of Shaun Maloney’s name via Charlie Mulgrew isn’t just idle chatter.
Don’t be fooled by it. Don’t be distracted. Don’t let them shift the conversation from renewal now to their “jam tomorrow” rubbish.
Recognise it as the conditioning exercise it is.
Celtic deserves better than this. Better than grooming projects and friendly voices softening us up. Better than trial balloons and narrative planting. We deserve ambition. We deserve transparency. We deserve a board that isn’t playing games with our club.
And the only way we’ll get it is if we keep pushing, keep escalating, and refuse to be seduced by familiar faces repeating tired scripts.
The post Is the Celtic board behind the sudden push for Shaun Maloney? appeared first on The Celtic Blog.
Continue reading...
Celtic fans are watching one of those moments unfold right now with the sudden emergence of Shaun Maloney’s name being floated as a potential successor in the dugout.
On the face of it, that might not seem like a huge deal.
Maloney is a Celtic man, a fine player in his time, someone many supporters have fond memories of. If he were being mentioned in the same breath as the manager’s job years down the line, after proving himself, few would object.
But that’s not what’s happening here.
Maloney was hired by the club not all that long ago and placed in a position where, on paper at least, he seemed vastly overqualified if you judged it purely on his CV.
We’re talking about a guy who had been assistant manager of Belgium, working alongside one of the most talented national squads in Europe, and who has also been in the dugout in his own right as a boss. His hiring as pathways manager at Celtic looked, at the time, like a very progressive step — bringing in someone immensely well qualified to handle the development side of the job.
But right from the start, people have wondered if there wasn’t perhaps another agenda at work. Was Maloney being brought into the club, put in that role, so that his eventual elevation to the manager’s job could be framed as the natural next step?
Because if that was the idea, it’s deeply flawed.
Maloney may be overqualified for the post he currently occupies, but he is staggeringly underqualified to be the manager of Celtic. He is nowhere near the calibre of candidate this club is going to require next summer.
We’ve talked here already about Charlie Mulgrew, another ex-player with Celtic credentials, who popped up to tell us that the fanbase is being too hasty, that we should stop all this talk of revolution and get behind the team. That on its own wouldn’t be remarkable — there are plenty of folk out there rolling out some version of that line. But Mulgrew already has a cloud of suspicion over him for previous pro-board comments.
Now he’s gone further. He’s started talking up Maloney as a managerial candidate.
Now we’re in different territory.
I’ve been writing about Mulgrew’s position for a couple of weeks now, but I’m not the only one who finds his comments about Maloney troubling and more than a little suspect. A couple of the other blogs — including Read Celtic, run by my good friend and podcast colleague Eric Knott — have already picked up on this and asked the same question: is this part of a wider agenda?
I’ll be honest with you, it smells fishy. It smells suspect. This is one of the most well known of all PR and political stratagems: the trial balloon.
Introduce an idea early, seed it through sympathetic voices, and see how it lands. If the response is catastrophic, you can deny you were ever serious. If the response is mixed, you can keep pushing it. And if the response is softer than expected, then you’ve already softened up resistance for the day when you make it official.
Let’s break it down.
Step one: Introduce the name
You don’t have Lawwell or Nicholson come out and float Shaun Maloney as a candidate. That would trigger immediate fury. Instead, you have someone like Mulgrew do it. A friendly voice. A club insider by reputation if not by contract.
A guy fans still think of as “one of us.” That way the idea sounds organic. It doesn’t look like PR spin. It looks like a mate with a microphone musing aloud.
Step two: Wrap it in soft messaging
Mulgrew doesn’t just name-drop Maloney. He ties him to a broader appeal for unity. The script is always the same: we’re being hasty, we need stability, we should get behind the team. Maloney’s name isn’t presented as a radical change but as a stabilising option. He’s not “the bold new gamble” — he’s “the calm hand already in the building.”
Step three: Watch the reaction
If fans reject it outright, no problem. The idea was only ever “chatter.” If some fans latch on, the seed is planted. The next time Maloney’s name comes up, it’s not new. It’s familiar. And familiarity is half the battle.
The more we hear an idea, the more normal it feels. That’s psychology 101 — the mere exposure effect. By the time the board makes a real move, the anger has already been vented, the novelty has worn off, and the debate shifts from “should he even be considered?” to “is he the right fit right now?”
This is narrative seeding, plain and simple.
And once you recognise it, you see it everywhere.
Governments do this constantly. They leak ideas to the press not to inform the public, but to test them. These leaks are called “trial balloons.”
Think back to 2002–2003 and the Iraq war build-up.
The case for war wasn’t made in one dramatic announcement. It was built drip by drip. First, “sources” whispered about weapons of mass destruction. Then newspapers speculated about Saddam’s links to terrorism. Then intelligence chiefs gave briefings.
Each step was designed to normalise the idea that Iraq was a threat. By the time war was openly on the table, the debate wasn’t “should we invade Iraq?” but whether or not we should wait for the UN before we did it.
The central question had already been shifted.
Closer to home, look at austerity after the 2008 crash.
Before George Osborne stood at a podium with his “there is no alternative” mantra, the ground had been softened with months of planted stories about “maxed out credit cards,” “belt-tightening,” and “living within our means.”
Those phrases were repeated so often that by the time austerity was formally announced, the frame had been set. The public had already been conditioned to see the deficit like a household overdraft. Debate about whether cuts were necessary at all was drowned out. The only argument left was about how deep they should go.
It’s the same with welfare reform, immigration policy, even climate debates. First you float an idea in the press. Then you let the outrage flare and die. Then you come back later with the “serious” version, and suddenly what was once unthinkable feels inevitable.
This isn’t conspiracy theory. It’s documented political practice. Every government does it. Every corporation does it. And football clubs — especially ones like Celtic with deeply entrenched boards — do it too.
If you were sitting in Lawwell’s office right now, sketching out a succession plan, what kind of candidate would you want?
Someone with gravitas, international experience, a proven ability to demand resources and push back against the suits? Even if you did – which they don’t – nobody like that is going to come here and work for these people.
That leaves someone young, without the kind of CV where he’ll ever get an offer this good, and thus grateful for the opportunity — someone who’ll toe the line because he knows he’s been given a chance far above his proven skillset.
You don’t have to be Machiavelli to see why Shaun Maloney is attractive to this board. He ticks all their boxes.
He’s not a threat. He’s not going to rock the boat. He’s going to be thankful, compliant, easy to spin as a “club man.” And because he’s already inside the structure, you can sell him as continuity. You don’t have to justify why you passed on better candidates — you can frame it as a sensible promotion from within.
This is exactly how this board has operated. We’ve seen it. We’ve seen Lennon chosen twice because he has supporter name recognition and will work within the structure. We’ve seen Nicholson promoted from within. We saw Mark Lawwell brought in. We’ve seen the elevation of Peter Lawwell to chairman … these people have demonstrated a clear propensity for exactly this sort of thinking.
Add Mulgrew into the mix, and it looks even dodgier. He’s not just any pundit throwing out an opinion. He’s someone who was recently interviewed for a major role in our academy setup despite having no qualifications for it. That in itself tells you the board sees him as someone they want to bring inside the tent.
So, when Mulgrew suddenly appears in the media urging caution, telling us not to back the Renewal campaign, and in the same breath pushing Maloney, it doesn’t look like coincidence. It looks like narrative management. He’s being used — willingly or not — as a delivery system for the board’s test balloon.
And let’s not forget the timing.
This weekend is the first big step for the Renewal of Celtic campaign. The fanbase is about to send a visible signal to the board that we’re not on the escalatory ladder. This is the moment the board has been dreading — the shift from grumbling to organised action.
So what do they do? They push back.
Not with direct confrontation, but with soft power. With messages of “unity” and “patience.” With reassurances that the club already has a plan. With a name — Maloney — dangled in front of us as proof that succession planning could go smoothly because the answer to the summer’s intractable problem is already in the building.
We’ve also had a leak about new contract negotiations with Maeda and, this morning, a story about how we’re actively scouting a winger. An unimpressive story, for many reasons, but one designed to get people thinking about the possibilities in January and beyond rather than confront the realities we’re faced with now.
It’s clever, in a cynical way. The aim is to blunt momentum before it builds. To make fans question whether their protests are “helpful.” To split the movement between those who think we should push harder and those who think we should give the board the benefit of the doubt. Divide and rule, dressed up as continuity.
This isn’t really about Shaun Maloney.
He could turn out to be a fine coach in time. It’s about the way ideas are smuggled into the conversation, the way the board tries to condition us into accepting their choices before they’re even officially made. It’s about softening resistance, normalising mediocrity, and shifting the debate onto their ground.
Fans need to recognise the tactic for what it is. Call it out. Don’t get bogged down in debating the merits of Maloney.
Keep the focus where it belongs: on a board that has lost legitimacy, that clings to control, and that uses soft power to disguise its lack of vision.
This board has no mandate left.
Every major supporters’ group has made that clear. The Renewal campaign is about accountability, transparency, and ambition. Against that backdrop, the sudden emergence of Shaun Maloney’s name via Charlie Mulgrew isn’t just idle chatter.
Don’t be fooled by it. Don’t be distracted. Don’t let them shift the conversation from renewal now to their “jam tomorrow” rubbish.
Recognise it as the conditioning exercise it is.
Celtic deserves better than this. Better than grooming projects and friendly voices softening us up. Better than trial balloons and narrative planting. We deserve ambition. We deserve transparency. We deserve a board that isn’t playing games with our club.
And the only way we’ll get it is if we keep pushing, keep escalating, and refuse to be seduced by familiar faces repeating tired scripts.
The post Is the Celtic board behind the sudden push for Shaun Maloney? appeared first on The Celtic Blog.
Continue reading...
