The BBC ruled Pat Nevin wrong. The rest of the media still owes Celtic fans an apology

The BBC ruled Pat Nevin wrong. The rest of the media still owes us an apology for rushing to convict Celtic fans without evidence.

The BBC has formally ruled that Pat Nevin’s claim that Celtic fans punched Lawrence Shankland during last season’s title‑deciding pitch invasion “fell below editorial standards of accuracy,” yet the broader media machine that amplified the assault narrative has faced no reckoning. What followed Celtic’s 3‑1 win over Hearts was not just a chaotic pitch invasion; it was a coordinated sprint to judgment by pundits, columnists and broadcasters who treated allegation as fact, then hid behind “heat of the moment” excuses when the evidence failed to materialise.

The core claim that launched a hundred headlines was simple and explosive - during the pitch invasion, “two or three” Celtic supporters punched Hearts captain Lawrence Shankland. That line was repeated on air, in columns and across social media as if it were established truth, and it quickly became the lens through which the entire incident was interpreted.

It now stands corrected by the broadcaster itself. The BBC’s Executive Complaints Unit accepted Nevin made an “honest error” in chaotic conditions but concluded his definitive statement breached accuracy standards, and Nevin has apologised on air and in writing. Crucially, the correction does not retroactively validate the wider narrative that players were “assaulted” in any criminal sense; it undercuts it.

On the ground, the available footage shows goading, jostling and celebratory moments, but not the clear, repeated assaults that were described in the immediate aftermath. Hearts midfielder Cammy Devlin later stated plainly that “none of the players got hurt,” a remark that should have ended the story but instead was largely sidelined by the same outlets that ran the assault angle for weeks. Police Scotland confirmed they received no formal complaints from Hearts about assaults, and Martin O’Neill publicly noted the allegations had “not been proved.”

Nevin’s written apology is technically an admission of error, but read closely it is also a masterclass in damage limitation that still manages to take a swipe at Celtic fans. He writes: “Goading is not physical violence and I will take it on the chin, the way the Hearts player probably didn’t.” That final comment - “the way the Hearts player probably didn’t” - is not neutral. It implies the player did not “take it on the chin,” subtly reinforcing the image of victimhood even as he concedes there was no punch.

This is not a full, clean apology. It is a qualified one, I was wrong about the punch, but don’t forget how awful the fans were. For a broadcaster held to editorial standards, that is precisely the problem. The original claim helped cement a narrative of violent assault; the correction should have been equally forceful in dismantling it, not in preserving the moral condemnation of an entire support while offering a technical mea culpa.

Nevin is only the most visible name in a much longer roll‑call of media figures and outlets that rushed to convict. Tony Bloom, Hearts’ co‑owner, told talkSPORT that “one or two” Hearts players were assaulted, presenting it as fact rather than allegation. With no player complaints lodged and no evidence produced, that claim should have triggered a correction or at least a public clarification from the broadcaster. Instead, it was allowed to drift, leaving the impression that the assaults were established when it was not.

David Tanner, whose commentary has repeatedly framed Celtic fans as problematic, used a moment to slip in a dig about Celtic supporters and pitch invasions, reinforcing the same “Celtic fans are the problem” trope even when discussing unrelated contexts. The pattern matters - it is not one off‑hand remark, but a consistent editorial choice to highlight Celtic fan misconduct while minimising or ignoring equivalent or worse behaviour elsewhere.

Sky Sports ran the assault narrative prominently in their live coverage before quietly shifting tone within the hour, moving from “assault” to “goading” without any on‑air correction or apology for the initial framing. In broadcast terms, that is not a minor slip; it is a headline‑making claim that shaped public understanding, then vanished as if it had never been made.

Pundits and columnists across Scottish media repeated the assault language as if verified, from radio phone‑ins to newspaper columns, creating an echo chamber where “Hearts players were assaulted” became the default description rather than “alleged.” When the story collapsed under the weight of its own lack of evidence, there was no equivalent wave of corrections, let alone apologies to Celtic supporters collectively tarred by the brush.

The double standard is glaring. There has been far more column inches and broadcast time devoted to these unproven assaults than to multiple incidents in recent years where Rangers fans have attacked Celtic officials and backroom staff. When the narrative fits a pre‑existing bias - Celtic as corrupt, Celtic fans as violent - the threshold for evidence mysteriously lowers; when it does not, the same voices suddenly demand “due process” and caution.

This was not just sloppy journalism; it was agenda‑driven storytelling. In the days before the final league of the game season, large sections of the Scottish media had invested heavily in the “Hearts will win the title” storyline, with some outlets openly banking on a Tynecastle coronation. When Celtic instead clinched the league in dramatic fashion, the emotional reaction from parts of the press was less disappointment than bitterness.

In that context, the pitch invasion was not reported as a safety and stewarding failure to be investigated; it was weaponised as moral proof that Celtic’s triumph was tainted. “Assault” is a powerful word. It conjures images of criminal violence, not heated exchanges in a crowd. Once that word is in play, it does the heavy lifting for a narrative that wants to paint an entire fanbase as dangerous and undeserving.

The mechanics are familiar, a pundit makes a strong claim on air; a broadcaster repeats it as the working assumption; columnists build think‑pieces on that foundation; social media amplifies the outrage; politicians and rival fans seize on it as confirmation of their own biases. By the time the evidence fails to appear, the story has already done its work. The correction, if it comes at all, is buried; the original headline lives on in memory and meme.

The most frustrating part of this saga is not that some pundits got it wrong; it is that Celtic’s hierarchy appear unwilling or unable to hold them properly to account. Club statements focused on stewarding and apologised for the invasion itself, which was the right call. But there has been no sustained, public challenge to the individuals and outlets that turned unproven allegations into accepted fact.

That silence has consequences. It tells the media they can run with the most damaging version of events, then retreat behind “honest error” when caught out, with no real reputational cost. It tells supporters that their club will do little to defend them. And it entrenches a culture in which Celtic fans are presumed guilty until proven innocent, while equivalent or worse incidents involving other clubs are treated with kid gloves or ignored entirely.

If Celtic will not do it, then supporters and independent voices must. That does not mean conspiracy theories or denial of the invasion’s seriousness; it means insisting on basic journalistic standards - evidence before accusation, corrections that match the scale of the original claim, and accountability for those who repeatedly trade in innuendo.

The BBC has at least drawn a line under Nevin’s specific claim, ruling it below editorial standards and extracting an apology. The next step is to demand the same rigour across the board: on‑air and in print corrections from outlets that ran the assault narrative as fact, making clear that no player complaints were lodged and no evidence has substantiated the most serious claims. Public clarifications from figures like Tony Bloom, whose “assaulted” comments carried significant weight but have never been reconciled with the lack of evidence or Devlin’s “none got hurt” account. Editorial reflection from pundits and columnists who treated allegation as proof, explaining how they will avoid repeating the same mistake when the next chaotic moment unfolds. A club stance from Celtic that goes beyond stewarding reforms to defend supporters’ reputations when they are smeared without basis, making clear the club will challenge false narratives, not just accept them.

None of this erases the fact that fans should not have been on the pitch. That was wrong, dangerous and rightly should be condemned. But accountability is not the same as collective condemnation, and stewarding failures do not justify inventing or inflating crimes that never happened.

The real story after Celtic’s title win is not just that a minority of supporters crossed a line; it is that large parts of the Scottish media crossed theirs. They had a choice: report the chaos, call for investigation, and wait for evidence; or seize on the most inflammatory interpretation and run with it. Too many chose the latter, then hid behind “heat of the moment” excuses when the facts did not cooperate.

Pat Nevin’s BBC‑sanctioned apology is a start, but it is too narrow and too qualified to restore trust. Until the wider cast of characters who amplified the assault narrative face the same scrutiny, and until Celtic themselves are willing to call out those who lie about their fans with impunity, the bitterness and anger that followed that final whistle will remain what they always were: less about player safety, and more about a media that could not accept the result, so it tried to tarnish the celebration instead.