Premier League
SATURDAY NOVEMBER 22nd

Shakhtar Donetsk 3

Celtic 0

1:0 Matuzalem 54
2:0 Matuzalem 60
3:0 Brandao 78

Att:30,000

MIB: Timmink (Hol)

Celtic: Marshall Agathe Balde Varga McNamara Juninho Petrov Lennon Sutton Camara Hartson
subs
Mcmanus for McNamara 31
Wallace for Sutton 46
McGeady for Juninho 71

Donetsk might be known locally as the City of Roses but Celtic smelled more of manure than blossoms after this shambles. The fallout from the match night debacle was a mess of Chernoybl proportions and a sickening blow to any aspirations the team might have of continuing in Europe after Christmas.

On the evidence of the first 45 minutes, however, Celtic looked dominant and in control. Hartson missed two gilt edged opportunities to put the Hoops ahead before the break and Shakhtar didn't look any great shakes. Little did we know that the S.S. Celtic was heading for one hell of an iceberg.

A free kick drilled into Sutton left him concussed, which followed soon after McNamara hobbled off injured to be replaced by Euro Rookie McManus. The second 45 saw Sutton fail to re-emerge and you didn't have to be Obiwan Kenobi to sense a distinct disturbance in the Force. There then ensued the biggest collapse east of the Carpathians since General Paulus took his army for a picnic to the picturesque wee village of Stalingrad back in the early 1940s, while the travelling Hoops were as dejected as Napoleon's Bhoys when he took them for a brisk hike through the snow from Moscow to Paris in 1812 as the team took a pounding.

Ludicrous defensive naivety gifted Shakhtar three goals without reply, while woeful finishing from Hartson meant the game ran away from Celtic faster than a bottle of vodka down the throat of a thirsty Ukrainian.

Celtic's lack of depth at this level, against a team of no European pedigree, was disturbing. Our promising young players, McGeady, Wallace and McManus looked like young boys on this stage. The brash confidence and tricks on show against SPL plodders never materialised, as they froze like rabbits caught in headlights.

This was the worst collapse I have witnessed in many years of supporting the team. What made it all the more galling is that it was on the back of a rare display in Milan. Confidence should not be in short supply at Celtic Park, but either something is going on behind the scenes that is affecting the players or we are witnessing the break-up of the current team. The lack of investment in players is hitting home hard and the failure of new signings to cut the mustard isn't helping.

European football in 2005 looks a distant prospect indeed on the back of this result.

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Donetsk Diary

"Why not the cafe culture of Milan or Barcelona?" that had been the question from my better half after I'd broken the news that I was had booked a trip to the Ukraine. It was a fair point, Donetsk is about as far east as you can go in the Champions League, a former mining town with no real points of historical interest. My only reply was that Milan and Barca are places you can visit any time, you don't really think of dropping in on the Ukraine.

So it was that five of us turned up at Glasgow Airport at 4:30 am on Tuesday morning ready to fly off. The only slight problem was that the flight was cancelled - bummer. Not to worry, we were soon re-routed, we would get to Kiev without too much of a problem, the only slight hitch being that by the time we arrived the train would have left, the car hire places would be closed and the next flight to Donetsk was the next day. Our options were rather limited but we found the solution - a taxi.

Now getting a taxi from Kiev airport to Donetsk is roughly equivalent to jumping into a cab at Glasgow airport and asking to be taken to Brighton, the main difference being that you can get to Brighton using a decent motorway system. The Ukrainian version of the motorway involves B roads that the bomb squad appear to have used for (unsuccessful) defusing practice. Our journey wasn't exactly helped the fact that our driver didn't know the way to Donetsk either.

Anyway, twelve hours after leaving Kiev we finally rolled into Donetsk and our rather nice hotel. In fact the worst thing about it was the fact that the rest of the Scottish press corps was staying there, Chick Young, Murdo McLeod et al. A quick scout around the town (impressive 50 ft odd statue of Vlad Lenin) and a feed followed (a meal for five with a couple of beers and two courses each under £20 for the lot, top) before we grabbed a quick pre-match nap, well we hadn't exactly slept well on the journey down. Then it was on with the kilts and the hoops, our primary mission to find a decent pub.

We'd already spotted the ground on our way into town. We had plenty of time for a couple of pre-match drinks given that the kick off was 9:45 local time, and then on to the game. You don't need me to tell you how bad that was. the only decent aspect of the whole sorry shambles was that they didn't hold us in for long after the game finished (the Spanish cops held us up for over an hour in Valencia). Back to the pub for another feed, a look at the Barca-Milan game and quick A-Z of disco classics belted out by us drunken diplomats from Glasgow and Belfast.

The following day we made our way back to Kiev, this time using the more conventional airplane. Prior to travelling we had been advised by the Ukrainian consulate that we should probably avoid using internal flights due to the fact the radar equipment was suspect and the planes were very old, thus we travelled with some trepidation. But it was all fine, if a little bizarre: the security staff at the airport appeared very worried that there might be spies amongst us, hence anyone with a disposable camera had to rip the cardboard off it to prove that it wasn't... Well I don't know really, some kind of spying device I suppose.

Kiev provided a fine evening out, followed by a quick look around the Dinamo stadium before we made our way home again. All in all a most enjoyable trip, apart from the two hours on Wednesday evening.