In Jamboland, those minutes must have been murderous and cruel. The angst must have been off the charts. So much done, so much history made and yet it wasn’t enough.
Osmand broke away to score seconds before the end, two team-mates running in his slipstream with every man in maroon up the other end. What a moment that must have been for the youngster, a free run on goal, an open target and the noise of 60,000 fans screaming in his ears.
There was still 30 seconds left to play when the invasion happened, but that time was binned in the chaos. On streamed the Celtic supporters and eye-witness reports with a clear view say things got ugly.
SPFL were informed by match officials later that the final whistle had been blown but still it was a pitiful end to a glorious moment for the home team. A shameful way to treat the visitors, who have given us so much this season, so many supreme moments, so much that made the title race the greatest in the lifetime of so many.
Hearts will be distraught, naturally, but there is a sense that this is just the beginning of their story, that they will come again and again under the management of Derek McInnes, the data analysis of Jamestown Analytics, the backing of the Foundation of Hearts, Tony Bloom and James Anderson, their benefactor-in-chief.
None of that will ease their pain in the here and now. Until they get over the line in this league then that hurt will be an open wound. There has to be enormous pride, too. And hope. A bittersweet season.
Celtic have so much work to do, so many important foundations to put in place for next season. O’Neill pulled off a feat of escapology that wouldn’t have been required had the decision-makers above him not been so slapstick for so long.
They’ll do a review, no doubt, but they’ll be doing it from a position of strength. Champions again, just. And this time, more than any other time, ‘just’ was enough.
