Back in the 70s, there'd be no debate.. Pat would be a maverick star.

Byline: Darren Fullerton

HOW do you solve a problem like... Pat?

Sounds like the latest BBC Saturday night offering from Andrew Lloyd Webber and the fawning sycophants schmoozing at his throne.

Sequinned shirts, flowing gowns, warbled notes, cheesy grins and Graham Norton skipping across a brightly lit backdrop.

Shoot me now. No... the Pat I'm referring to is Pat McCourt of Celtic.

And the problem? Well, where to play him for starters. And, while we're at it, who to play him against.

In case you were out of the country - or into BMX or equestrian sports - McCourt has been the scorer of two sublime goals for Celtic in recent weeks.

His meandering 50-yard run and dinked finish against Falkirk in the Co-Operative Insurance Cup last month was a thing of beauty, while his goal against St Mirren in Celtic's recent SPL triumph was better.

McCourt, a shuffling blur of flowing locks and ambling limbs, bamboozles five or six opponents on a 35-yard run before rifling his angled shot into the far corner of the net.

While watching it on YouTube I half expected to hear the voice of Roy Race asking: "Is this guy for real?"

Imagine a primary school kickabout being gatecrashed by a teenager and you get the drift. Against St Mirren and Falkirk, McCourt was like a merciless 14-year-old teasing the eight-year-olds in his dizzying midst.

There is no doubting his qualities. He is a shimmering talent of poise and feints.

Yet why did Northern Ireland manager Nigel Worthington prefer to leave him as an unused substitute against the Czech Republic last Wednesday night?

And why does Celtic boss Tony Mowbray still search for diplomatic prose, like a politician seeking a default quote, when asked about the Derry man's potential?

Mowbray, who once tried to sign him from Derry City when he was West Bromwich Albion boss, now contends McCourt must add to his locker to fulfil his promise.

Stamina, energy, discipline and physical fortitude are the obstacles to progress and regular first-team action.

Adding endurance to the showcase trickery remains the challenge in hand.

As one Celtic fan noted: "Splitting the atom was a cinch compared to trying to harness Paddy's qualities over 90 minutes."

Mowbray agrees. "I'd love the day when Pat plays every single minute of every game - his talent alone warrants a place in the team," he said.

"But I cannot turn him into Usain Bolt or Seb Coe. I can't give him an iron lung."

Fair enough.

And yet, is it not a sorry indictment of the game that McCourt's maverick skills cause current day coaches such a dilemma?

Is it not to be regretted that his mercurial talent throws the minds of Mowbray and Worthington into such a spin?

That the athletic nature of the sport in 2009 does not have a place for a player of such creative elan.

That the likes of McCourt cannot be 'accommodated' in the modern world of tactical patterns and systems.

That a player of enthralling style cannot be dovetailed into the muscular template.

Mowbray accepts he has a gem in his midst - but, by his actions and words, he also concedes he takes a mild risk every time he gives Paddy free rein on a grand stage.

Worthington too.

While playing at the Brandywell, Derry City built their team around McCourt.

He was given carte blanche to create havoc in the League of Ireland. Which he did.

But Celtic are not Derry and Mowbray cannot allow himself to build an Old Firm giant around such promise.

So where do you play him? Wide right? Off the front man? Central midfield? At any other time and in any other arena, McCourt's recent goals against Falkirk and St Mirren would have underpinned his value to the team.

He would be one of the first names on his manager's game plan. And yet...

In essence, McCourt is a throwback to the 1970s when the likes of Rodney Marsh, Frank Worthington, Duncan McKenzie and Stan Bowles played the game with an off-the-cuff panache.

They were entertainers with licence to go off script, roam, set pulses racing and splash random, vivid colours across the canvas.

Football has progressed immeasurably on so many fronts in intervening years. But the demise of the artisans, the loss of the non-conformist virtuosos is to be regretted.

For when the likes of Pat McCourt are being muscled from the stage, when they are being man handled from the team sheet, it is time to reflect.

When a talent as rich as his is being dissected at the altar of safety-first tactics, it is also time to mourn.

Where football has come from.

And where it is going.

CAPTION(S):

BHOY WANDER McCourt takes fans to edge of their seats with his skills SEVENTIES ENTERTAINERS Frank Worthington, Rodney Marsh, Duncan McKenzie and Stan Bowles