It’s the kind of decision that leaves you shaking your head in disbelief. Celtic, a club steeped in tradition and pride, has somehow found itself dabbling in the absurd with this latest merchandising move—a virtual slice of the pitch. Not an actual patch of turf you can cradle in your hands or stick in a glass case, but a pixelated square on a computer screen, yours for the princely sum of £29.99 a year or, for those willing to stretch their incredulity further, £49.99 for three years.

This is, undoubtedly, the footballing equivalent of selling deeds to a plot of land on the moon. It’s meaningless, intangible, and frankly, an insult to fans who are already digging deep into their pockets for match tickets, jerseys, and scarves—not to mention the energy spent travelling to away days or showing up for midweek fixtures in freezing December temperatures.

The announcement landed with all the grace of a missed sitter. Social media erupted, as you’d expect, with fans ranging from bewildered to outraged. The comments beneath the unveiling post were a gallery of horror and sarcasm: “Who’s buying this?” was the general tone. The idea of unwrapping such a ‘gift’ on Christmas morning—hoping for a new strip, perhaps, or tickets for a game—only to discover you now own an imaginary slice of Celtic Park, is almost comical. Almost.

This initiative isn’t just a misstep; it’s tone-deaf. At a time when supporters are basking in the team’s on-pitch success and feeling that rare but intoxicating sense of unity, such a move feels cynical, as if the decision-makers at the club believe the fans will buy into anything as long as it’s wrapped in green and white. And while Celtic Park may be a cathedral to football, selling virtual pews in the nave doesn’t feel like the sacred connection they’re aiming for.

What makes this worse is that Celtic—unlike some clubs—don’t need to resort to gimmicks. The fanbase is passionate, the stands are full, and the coffers are bolstered by European nights and a squad built with an eye on selling high-value talent.

To risk cheapening the connection between the club and its supporters with a blatant cash grab is frustratingly unnecessary.

The hope now is that this virtual pitch project quietly disappears into the ether before it becomes a long-running embarrassment. Celtic are better than this—or at least they should be.