There is a certain type of transfer disappointment that hits Celtic supporters harder than others.

It’s not when a player signs elsewhere quickly. It’s not when a target publicly rejects the club. Those situations are easy to process because there is finality to them.

The transfers that linger are the dangerous ones.

The player who is linked with Celtic for weeks. The player whose name refuses to disappear from the rumour mill. The player who gradually becomes a symbol of what the club is supposedly failing to do.

By the time the window closes, supporters have often convinced themselves that the player they’ve never actually watched in depth was exactly what the squad needed.

Gvidas Gineitis felt like one of those transfers.

For months, the Torino midfielder was discussed as if he represented the answer to a problem. A young international. A regular in Serie A. Physical. Left-footed. Supposedly versatile. Exactly the sort of profile that modern recruitment departments love.

Yet when the emotion is stripped away and the player is examined in the cold light of day, a very different picture emerges.

The more I watched and read about Gineitis, the more I reached a conclusion that will probably annoy a lot of people:

Celtic may have dodged a bullet by not signing him.

That is not to say he is a bad footballer. He clearly isn’t.

The question is whether he was worth the kind of money being discussed and whether his profile actually addressed Celtic’s biggest needs.

For me the answer is no.

Not even close.

The Biggest Red Flag: Nobody Could Explain What Problem He Was Solving

The strangest part of the entire saga was how vague the excitement around Gineitis actually was.

When Celtic signed Matt O’Riley, everyone understood the logic.

Here was a technically gifted midfielder with creative instincts, a tremendous final ball and obvious attacking upside.

When Reo Hatate arrived, it was immediately clear what his strengths were. Progressive passing. Aggressive movement. Creativity. Technical quality.

When Callum McGregor became the cornerstone of the side, nobody needed a tactical diagram to understand why. He controls games.

With Gineitis, the discussion felt very different.

Ask ten Celtic supporters where he would have played and you would probably get six different answers.

Was he a defensive midfielder?

Not really.

His defensive work is arguably the strongest area of his game, but he isn’t a specialist holding midfielder in the mould of a destroyer or deep-lying organiser.

Was he a number eight?

Possibly.

But then you’re immediately comparing him to players like Hatate and O’Riley, and that’s where things become uncomfortable.

Was he an attacking midfielder?

Definitely not.

Was he a replacement for Engels if he left?

The profile never really matched.

Was he a long-term successor to McGregor?

Again, not obviously.

What emerged was a player who appears competent in multiple areas without necessarily excelling in any one of them.

That might sound harsh but it is actually the central point.

A £2 million signing can afford to be undefined.

A player costing significantly more needs a role.

He needs a purpose.

He needs to solve a problem.

I never felt Gineitis did.

The Serie A Label Was Doing a Lot of Heavy Lifting

There is a strange tendency among football supporters to assume that a player operating in a stronger league must automatically be a stronger player.

Sometimes that’s true.

Plenty of times it isn’t.

The fact that Gineitis has established himself within Torino’s first-team squad is undoubtedly impressive. Serie A remains one of Europe’s strongest leagues and any young player earning minutes deserves credit.

However, context matters.

Torino are not asking their midfielders to perform the same job Celtic ask of theirs.

This is where I think much of the analysis surrounding the player became lazy.

Torino are typically a compact, organised side that spend long periods without the ball. Their midfielders often operate in games where transitions are crucial, defensive shape is prioritised and territory is contested.

Celtic play a completely different sport.

Most SPFL opponents arrive at Celtic Park primarily focused on survival.

They sit deep.

They defend narrow.

They protect the penalty area.

The challenge isn’t winning the ball.

The challenge is breaking teams down once you’ve already won it.

This distinction matters enormously.

Many players who thrive in transition-heavy leagues struggle when asked to become chance creators.

The demands are entirely different.

A midfielder can look excellent when there are spaces to attack.

The same midfielder can suddenly look ordinary when faced with ten men behind the ball every week.

That was my worry about Gineitis.

I could see what he offered Torino.

I struggled to see what he offered Celtic.

Good Athletic Profile, Limited Creative Profile

The strongest arguments in favour of Gineitis are actually quite obvious.

He’s tall.

He’s powerful.

He’s left-footed.

He covers ground well.

He has an impressive engine.

He presses aggressively.

His defensive work rate is excellent.

He consistently contributes in ball recoveries and defensive actions.

Those are genuine strengths.

If Celtic were building a team around counter-pressing chaos, physical duels and transitional football, then perhaps there would be a stronger argument.

But that isn’t the reality.

The reality is that Celtic need midfielders capable of dominating possession.

They need players capable of unlocking low blocks.

They need players capable of producing moments of technical quality against packed defences.

That is where the concerns begin.

One of the common descriptions of Gineitis is that he can play progressive passes.

That’s good.

But progressive passing and creativity are not the same thing.

Moving the ball forward is useful.

Creating opportunities is what matters.

Far too much modern analysis combines these two things as if they are identical.

They aren’t.

A player can progress possession effectively without having the imagination, vision or technical quality to consistently create goalscoring opportunities.

Watching Gineitis, that was exactly my impression.

He looked tidy.

He looked disciplined.

He looked physically capable.

But he rarely looked like a player who would terrify an opposition defence.

When Hatate gets on the ball, things happen.

When O’Riley received possession, you expected danger.

Even McGregor, despite playing deeper, can accelerate attacking sequences with a single pass.

I never saw those qualities in Gineitis at a level that justified the hype.

Sometimes the Eye Test Matters More Than the Spreadsheet

This might annoy some people, but not every transfer can be reduced to data models and recruitment dashboards.

Football remains a visual sport. Supporters watch players. Managers watch players. Scouts watch players. Sometimes the eye test tells you things that numbers can’t.

The funniest aspect of the Gineitis conversation was that even many of football’s data obsessives seemed oddly lukewarm.

Usually when Celtic are linked with an emerging talent, social media fills with charts, scatter graphs and declarations that supporters simply don’t understand what they’re looking at.

That reaction never fully materialised with Gineitis.

There were statistics highlighting defensive contribution.

There were recovery numbers.

There were possession figures.

But there was remarkably little evidence suggesting elite attacking upside.

And watching him only reinforced that feeling.

Nothing about his performances screamed future star.

Nothing suggested a player capable of transforming Celtic’s midfield.

He looked like a useful footballer.

A solid footballer.

A hard-working footballer.

The type of player managers trust.

The type of player supporters appreciate.

But there’s a huge difference between appreciating a player and spending a substantial transfer fee on him.

Every time I watched clips or extended highlights, I found myself asking the same question:

What exactly is the standout trait?

With Hatate, it’s creativity.

With O’Riley, it was intelligence in the final third.

With Kyogo, movement.

With Carter-Vickers, dominance.

With Jota, flair.

With Gineitis, I genuinely struggled to answer.

The best explanation I could come up with was that he does a lot of things reasonably well.

That’s not worth breaking the bank for.

Celtic’s Window Shows Why Transfers Need More Than Reputation

One of the reasons Gineitis became such a talking point is because of the broader context of Celtic’s transfer window.

The window itself felt like two completely different stories.

The early business made sense.

Duran addressed attacking power.

Høgh added another physical dimension.

Hassan brought options in forward areas.

Baur appeared to offer succession planning and tactical flexibility.

Even if supporters disagreed on individual players, there was at least a visible logic.

The squad lacked strength in attack and recruitment responded.

Then everything stalled.

Weeks passed with very little movement.

Important players departed.

The squad became thinner.

The European campaign suffered another painful setback.

Suddenly urgency returned.

Linked names started appearing everywhere.

Recruitment seemed reactive rather than proactive.

It was within that environment that Gineitis became elevated to almost mythical status.

The less activity there was elsewhere, the more supporters focused on him.

But that doesn’t mean he was the answer.

In fact, I’d argue the opposite.

One reason the deal seemed to drag endlessly was because neither side ever appeared fully convinced.

The move had a familiar feel to it.

Supporters have seen this story before.

We saw it with Michel-Ange Balikwisha.

The rumours never stopped.

The links never disappeared.

There was constant discussion.

Yet somehow nobody involved seemed desperate enough to actually make it happen.

Eventually that deal collapsed too.

At the time many supporters saw it as failure.

Looking back, it increasingly resembles a transfer Celtic were fortunate to avoid.

The same feeling surrounded Gineitis.

When a deal drifts month after month without conviction from either side, sometimes it is because experienced football people have doubts.

Sometimes hesitation is a warning sign rather than an obstacle.

Missing Out Doesn’t Always Mean Losing

The emotional reaction to transfer windows often pushes supporters towards simplistic conclusions.

If a player signs, it is viewed as success.

If a player doesn’t sign, it is viewed as failure.

Reality is rarely that straightforward.

The history of football is littered with transfers that looked disappointing at the time but ultimately saved clubs millions.

Not every target who gets away is a missed opportunity.

Not every near-signing becomes a superstar elsewhere.

And not every highly rated player is suited to every environment.

Gineitis may go on to have an excellent career.

He is still only 22.

He could improve significantly over the next three or four years.

Perhaps he develops into a top-level midfielder and makes everyone who doubted him look foolish.

That possibility absolutely exists.

But recruitment should never be based on what a player might become.

It should be based on what they currently offer and how that fits within a team’s tactical requirements.

When viewed through that lens, the logic behind signing Gineitis begins to unravel.

Celtic need creativity.

They need control.

They need players capable of deciding matches against deep defensive blocks.

They need players who elevate the technical quality of the side.

Gineitis appeared to provide running power, athleticism and defensive discipline.

Useful attributes, certainly.

Essential ones? Not so much.

At the reported price point, Celtic needed more certainty.

They needed more attacking upside.

They needed a clearer tactical fit.

Most importantly, they needed a player whose strengths aligned with the football they actually play.

For all the excitement generated by his age, physical profile and Serie A experience, Gineitis felt like the classic case of supporters falling in love with a résumé rather than a footballer.

The words “Torino midfielder” sounded impressive.

The reality was less convincing.

So while plenty of fans will continue to view the failed pursuit as another example of Celtic coming up short in the market, I find myself increasingly thinking the opposite.

Maybe Celtic didn’t miss out on the next great midfield signing.

Maybe they simply avoided spending a substantial fee on a player who didn’t truly fit what the team needed.

And in a transfer market where mistakes can cost millions and linger for years, sometimes the smartest signing is the one you never make.