Celtic surf forward on wave of sound before Juventus let the Old Lady sing Why else would the great Buffon himself, still trying to get his hearing back in the opening seconds, tentatively push out a relatively straightforward long-range shot from Victor Wanyama for a corner? Perhaps, just for a moment, he was the slightest bit fazed too. After that he was just a rock. So let us not underplay Juventus's triumph here. The list of teams who have left Celtic Park shell-shocked and vanquished over half a century of European skirmishes reads like a who's who of footballing aristocracy - from Liverpool in 1966 to Barcelona in 2012, taking in, among others, Benfica, Ajax, Real Madrid, Manchester United, Milan and Juve themselves along the way. In all, incredibly, Celtic have lost just 18 of 139 European ties at home. And, actually, number 18 was not as emphatic as it sounds, even if it was enough to ensure Celtic now need to conjure up something as miraculous as the Turin Shroud in a fortnight to reach the quarter-finals for the first time in 33 years. It takes a team, not just with considerable skill but also real fortitude, to step into Celtic Park at its most magnificently fevered, deaden the passion and steal away with anything. Just ask Barcelona. Because the support is so amazing, it is sometimes easy to forget that Neil Lennon has stitched together a team who are worthy of them. This band of promising kids, bargain-basement buys and lovely finds in unlikely places performed splendidly for much of the night. Surely, though, Lennon will have to look at himself for risking the flamboyant Nigerian Ambrose, who only returned from his Africa Cup of Nations heroics on the morning of the game. Three horrendous errors, including an open goal fluffed, told of a man who looked to be suffering from jet lag. For much of the game, Celtic outmuscled and outworked their illustrious opponents; in Kris Commons and Gary Hooper, they had industrious, powerful menaces; in Wanyama, a constant thrusting engine in midfield; and in the crosses of Mikael Lustig, criminally wasted deliveries. There was much to appreciate. Yet as they ran out of steam and ideas against Juve's streetwise defence - nobody had evidently told Stephan Lichtsteiner that wrestling had just been dropped from the Olympics - class finally told. Then we could all see the difference between the highest quality and the highest endeavour and it all felt a little sad, as much as anything because you just feel these great fans of a great club simply deserve the best.