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Brendan Rodgers wasn’t sure if he was driving a Honda Civic or a Ferrari. ‌

So it was probably perfectly fitting that when Martin O’Neill got behind Celtic 's wheel he would come screeching back into town joyriding a DeLorean. ‌

The scorched earth of the National Stadium had the old man’s tyre tracks singed all over it by the time the first derby of his second spell in charge reached its almost inevitable conclusion. ‌

It was chaotic, it was thunderous and at times it was fuelled by simmering hot tempers.

It raged on into extra-time amid unrelenting drama and all manner of plot twists.

But when it was finally over, and the lactic acid was causing legs to stiffen all over the Hampden pitch, it was the 73-year-old’s name which was ringing out around Gl

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