Neil Lennon was always likely to be the central figure here, but not in this way, not as the victim of an attempted assault.

The game had become an untroubled occasion for Celtic, with Gary Hooper’s second goal emphasising their control, and the Parkhead manager barely even celebrated the strike. But then a lone supporter ran out from the stand next to the Celtic dugout and reached Lennon just as he was hauled down by Alan Thompson, before stewards arrived.

Lennon landed several kicks on the grounded man before he was dragged back by Thompson and Johan Mjallby. Once the police hauled the assailant away, and some kind of order returned on the field, what suddenly reared around Tynecastle was a vicious intensity.

In the directors box, three individuals were singled out by stewards, and reacted with fury before then approaching Dr John Reid, the Celtic chairman, to smooth out whatever the disturbance had been.

Then in the away end, Celtic fans began to fight with police and stewards as some were pulled from of their seats and dragged out of one of the exits. It prompted a fierce, almost visceral chant in support of the IRA, which in turn caused a tumult around the stadium. There had been similar chants earlier, with the home fans responding by singing The Billy Boys, but that dark edge had diminished.

Now it returned, full of vengeance and aggression, and it seemed once more that what was taking place on the field bore no relation to what was happening around it. A flare was let off during the commotion and it was only by the time the green smoke had carried off into the dark sky that some of the fury dissipated, too. It had been nasty, but also short-lived.

Even before it began, so much of the drama of this game was focused on Lennon. As he watched his side warm-up, the Hearts fans sang about how much they hated him. It is this exposed figure, one who generates a harsh vehemence, that Lennon has become this season, while Celtic supporters see him as a presence to gather behind.

He is an unabashed, forthright character, forever fighting his corner. There will always be excesses in such an adamant personality, and Lennon’s last visit to Tynecastle saw him sent to the stand by referee Craig Thomson, who was in charge again last night. Jim Jefferies was also riled by Lennon’s observation that Rangers’ recent opponents, including Hearts, had not competed against them.

The Celtic manager claimed that he was misrepresented, and he and the Hearts manager walked out of the tunnel together, their arms around each other, laughing. Lennon then looked up to the director’s box, where Reid responded with a salute, and Peter Lawwell gave the thumbs up.

They replaced an almost ambivalent manager in Tony Mowbray with a hard, feisty character, but they could not have foreseen how the divisiveness of Lennon would prompt parcel bombs and now an attempted assault.

Lennon, too, must wonder if it is worth the threat; particularly if he cannot be safe even on the touchline. After the final whistle, he walked on to the pitch and towards the Celtic fans, who chanted his name.

As he raised his hands to applaud them, he was followed by two policemen, two stewards and a stern-faced man wearing a suit and a Celtic training jacket. It seemed sad, alarming even, that he needed to be protected; that this is what the Scottish game has come to.