What does it mean to be playing football in one corner of Europe when in another people are recoiling from the horrors of war?
On the final day of preparations ahead of Scotland’s World-Cup play-off match against Ukraine the latest sweep of the devastated Azovstal steel plant in Mariupol gave up a further 152 bodies.
Attempts to rescue 15,000 civilians from Severodonetsk, a city receiving the Mariupol treatment 170 miles to the north, was again abandoned due to the scale of a Russian bombardment described by the BBC correspondent as a “war of oblivion”.
Yet here we are advancing on Hampden Park as if reaching the World Cup finals was something worth the trouble.
There are two ways of looking at this. One is to recognise that for this to happen at all it requires us not to engage with reality, to sever the connection with a country we can reach inside three hours by air.
Imagine the optics were Martian leaders observing homo sapiens from space trying to piece together some understanding of a world in which a football match involving Ukraine could take place while the lives of its citizens are being systematically erased.
It does not need the involvement of Ukraine in a sporting context to trouble us. That any recreational showpiece, be it World Cup qualification, international cricket, the French Open tennis, might be considered appropriate in the present circumstances ought to make us all blink.
It is clear Ukraine would prefer its European neighbours and global supporters to direct their efforts towards the defence of its borders rather than signalling solidarity though token gestures.
On the other hand, there will be universal support at Hampden for a Ukraine team clearly conflicted by their involvement when their brothers and comrades are giving their lives on the front line.
Yet there is a sense in which the trivial nature of the contest is balanced by the symbolic value of 11 footballers in yellow and blue coming together on a high profile stage to reinforce feelings of identity and national pride, to bring attention to the heinous atrocities committed by Russia.
In the propaganda space, sport is a tool much beloved of Vladimir Putin. Thus there is some satisfaction to be taken from the capacity of Ukraine to keep the war at the forefront of global attention as Russia continues its barbarous subjugation of a sovereign neighbour.
This is the first match played by Ukraine since the invasion began on 24 February. Speaking to Good Morning Scotland, a Ukrainian national travelling from Manchester, Martyn Chymera, made a point about the timing of the fixture.
“At the moment I think what is going on in Ukraine is going off the headlines so this again is an opportunity to remind people. Also it is an opportunity to stand up and sing our anthem and sing about the freedom of Ukraine, which is completely important at the minute while our men are fighting for their freedom.”
Another, Andriy Smondulak, reinforced the emotional power of the game. “I think goosebumps will be felt around the world. Ukrainians in the stadium will be singing their hearts out,” he said. “I think Hampden Park will temporarily feel like an opera house with so much emotion and drama, both on and off the pitch.”
It is then in its importance as a touchstone, as a gathering point for Ukrainian sentiment, that the significance of this fixture is to be found, however absurd it might feel in the context of war and lives lost. When Bill Shankly joked that football was not life and death, but something more important than that, there was meaning in his mirth.
From a professional point of view this is the most important match in the lives of this group. Though the sons of Ukraine have played in the World Cup many times in the colours of the Soviet Union, only once, 16 years ago, have they represented their own nation.
The chance to emulate the boys of 2006 coupled with the obvious emotional complexity are among the intangibles that could propel Ukraine to a plane beyond Scotland’s reach.
You would imagine the majority in the stadium will be wishing otherwise, of course, but even then there are some Scots, Graeme Souness included, feeling the sentimental pull of yellow and blue.
“Part of me keeps coming back to the fact that it’s just a game of football, and do I really want to beat them. Whether it’s sport, politics, the arts, whatever it is, we must send a message to Russia that it’s not acceptable what they are doing,” Souness told The Times. “I’m going to find myself in a really difficult situation. I’ll be emotional. I don’t just want Ukraine to qualify, I want them to go there [Qatar] and win it.”
We hear you Souey. You are not alone with your paradox.
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