This was not a mountain to climb. This was tackling Everest in trunks and flip flops. This was crossing the Atlantic in a rowing boat pirated by Jimmy Johnstone. They say the plan of battle evaporates on first contact with the enemy. Never was that more applicable than last night. "The shape is not a dilemma," insisted Strachan before the match. After 37 minutes of last night's encounter, with his team a goal down and without the injured Lee Naylor and John Kennedy, Strachan needed a new notepad for his scribbles.

The Celtic manager, however, is no stranger to adversity. He is, after all, small and ginger. He is also a Celtic manager who presided over the worst result in the club's history in his first competitive game in charge. Artmedia, he claims, will be on his gravestone. Last night's encounter was incomparable, but the misfortunes his side suffered in the first half left a captive audience in Glasgow's East End rubbing their eyes in disbelief.

It went as follows: Four minutes John Kennedy makes a nightmarish defensive error when he nods the ball off Brandao, who sets himself to spear a low drive past Artur Boruc. 1-0.

12 minutes Naylor, the team's only recognised left-back, crumples to the turf to be replaced by Massimo Donati. Paul Hartley, charged with shackling the impish playmaker Jadson and holding the midfield, switches to left-back.

37 minutes Kennedy ominously crashes to the turf clutching his left knee, the same one which suffered horrific damage on his Scotland debut in March 2004. Celtic Park is in a state of shock. Things couldn't get any worse could they? History would suggest otherwise, but the indomitable spirit which courses through Strachan's side is now an essential part of their make-up.

If Celtic were on the canvas being counted out after the first quarter then, as half and full-time approached, they were back on their feet, swinging punches and landing significant body blows. It was stirring, compelling stuff from first to last.

This was always going to be a difficult game to predict because there were so many imponderables involved, mostly surrounding the visitors. Which Shakhtar would turn up? The team who swept aside Celtic on Matchday One in the Ukraine? Or the team who shipped seven goals to AC Milan in their last two group games? With Cristiano Lucarelli and Brandao spearheading the attack, it was fair to conclude that they would take the game to Celtic from the start.

Mircea Lucescu, the Shakhtar manager, has built his reputation on moulding young, mobile attacking sides. His summer revamp saw the acquisition of a host of attacking players. Lucescu, a talented, successful coach, is clearly not a man to build from the back.

If few could have predicted the defensive ineptitude which led to the opening goal, then the equaliser was equally unfathomable. Dario Srna and Dmytro Chygrynskiy re-enacted an episode of Keystone Cops inside their own penalty box and the ball fell to Jiri Jarosik on the left edge of the six-yard box. "CROSS IT," bellowed 60,000 voices. Typically Jarosik, a contrary, mercurial character, did the opposite, crashing a rising shot into the top corner of the net. 1-1.

It was another thrilling evening in the Jarosik comeback tour. The Czech midfielder's rehabilitation this season almost beggars belief. In the last transfer window, he was straining at the leash to get out of Parkhead. A peripheral performer last season, he looked to have no place in Strachan's long term plans. His languid style has often looked out of place in the blood and thunder of Scottish football. On the evidence of his first season, he also looked to have the work ethic of a sloth with a thyroid problem.

But his surprise inclusion in the starting line-up for the AC Milan game at Parkhead at the start of October marked the start of something. He has been a consistent performer ever since. Now, he is a model of dynamism, chasing and harrying opponents, winning headers, tackling back. Once again last night, he was at the centre of much of Celtic's attacking endeavours. With 15 minutes remaining he had a golden chance to win it for Celtic, but glanced Hartley's corner inches over the bar. Chris Killen replaced Vennegoor of Hesselink near the end as the home side searched for an elusive winner.

The minutes ticked down. "Two minutes of injury time," declared the stadium announcer. Aiden McGeady picks the ball up on the right, beats his man and cuts the ball to the edge of the area. Donati strikes it with his right foot and it takes a deflection as it nestles in the corner of the net. Seconds later, the whistle sounds. Celtic Park erupts in the way only Celtic Park can on nights like these.

The greatest comeback since . . . well, since Jiri Jarosik.