Our game has been pushed to the brink of a dark abyss by a mix of conceit and incompetence

The guys who broke the rules aren’t dumb. Just arrogant

The impact of a wider interruption hardly bears contemplation

THEY’D get football stopped’ is a favourite insult directed at teams towards the tedious end of the entertainment spectrum.

There’s a horrifying and bitter irony, then, in our national game being put at risk not by dull adherence to unvaried orders — but a flamboyant refusal to obey the same boring restrictions still making life such a damned drag for the rest of the herd.

Scottish football has been pushed back to the very brink of a deep, dark and all-consuming abyss by a dangerous mix of conceit and incompetence.

And, as hard as this is to admit, even the unwitting innocents may have few serious grounds for complaint if a suspension of play — indefinite, indiscriminate and incredibly damaging for everyone involved — is the price paid for individual breaches and a collective lack of control.

Yes, that remains a truly horrendous prospect. Another doomsday scenario for a game already struggling for survival.

But, factoring in the likelihood of more positive Covid tests even if football does absolutely everything right from here on in, it cannot be discounted.

Should the worst happen, it will be a true tragedy. Brought on by character flaws apparently inherent in the game — and all too common among its feted frontline staff. Because let’s nip a couple of things in the bud right here, right now. Both are worth remembering, amid the flurry of complaints about football being somehow ‘singled out’ by sleekit politicians in search of a diversion.

First, we’ve all been far, far too kind in suggesting that players caught breaking lockdown were simply ‘daft’ or even ‘idiotic’.

They’re not naïve innocents lacking the intelligence to cope with complex concepts such as ‘Stay home’. Or ‘Don’t travel to Spain for a quickie without isolating on return’. The guys who broke the rules — and we’d be fools to imagine that every single offence has now been uncovered — aren’t dumb. Just arrogant.

They believe themselves to be exempt from normal rules. Special cases deserving of bespoke treatment. In normal circumstances, this sense of entitlement is no more than a slightly irritating affectation.

But, in case you hadn’t noticed, we passed normal 20-something weeks — and half a dozen existential crises — ago.

Secondly, let’s examine the favourite defence of clubs pleading innocence on the grounds of diminished responsibility.

You can’t curb the excesses of employees — ambassadors to a man, when there’s a shirt to be sold — once they leave the premises?

Sorry, but that’s not good enough. Clubs should have anticipated these problems — and made clear from the outset that any serious breach would be considered a sackable offence.

You’re supposed to be grown-ups. All of you. You’ve been given an enormous amount of freedom, granted liberties not afforded to ‘ordinary’ members of the public.

Yet the whole damned system lies in tatters after just two rounds of fixtures. It’s beyond embarrassing.

Scottish football’s failure to adjust to the new world, the game’s very human tendency towards doing just enough to satisfy the authorities, has clearly been part of its undoing.

Or rather, it will be, if there isn’t a sudden and serious change in attitude.

The hope is that this serves as a wake-up call for those who think almost complying with every line of the small print is good enough because ‘Ach, it’ll be fine…’ The complacent few may realise that we’re still dealing with an incredibly dangerous and extremely infectious disease just waiting for an opportunity to go roaring through the general population. Again.

In the circumstances, Nicola Sturgeon actually sounded almost reasonable in her damnation yesterday. More disappointed than infuriated.

But her warning of a red card to follow this latest yellow, nearly as chilling as the flat declaration that neither Aberdeen nor Celtic should expect to fulfil their fixtures this week, clearly points to an exhaustion of patience on the part of the First Minister.

During the slow emergence from complete lockdown, Sturgeon didn’t hesitate to shut down a whole city. And was entirely prepared to keep schools shut, if that’s what it took.

You think public pressure and the threat of a dip in the polls would stay her hand, should football foul up the public health messaging one more time? Unlikely.

So look out those mock-ups of a meteorite heading for Hampden. Touch base with the favourite insolvency experts usually kept on speed dial. Just in case.

Because, as we all now understand, even a temporary suspension affecting a limited number of clubs is already guaranteed to wreak havoc on a footballing calendar with less wiggle room than a pair of pre-lockdown jeans.

The impact of a wider interruption, opening up the possibility of TV deals being renegotiated and clubs falling ever further into financial crisis, hardly bears contemplation.

It certainly hasn’t crossed the minds of those still playing our second favourite national sport, the great game of whitabootery.

Give it a rest, lads. While football is entirely entitled to fight its corner, running around pointing the finger at offenders from other walks of life isn’t quite the brilliant line of defence you might imagine.

Even before the Boli Bolingoli farce, we’d had eight Aberdeen players demonstrating a worrying lack of endurance by breaking lockdown just a few hours into the new season.

During the pre-season programme, there were questions over whether Rangers had received test results ahead of a friendly, delays in Hibs getting the all-clear for a bounce match with Ross County — and the still-suspicious half dozen ‘false positives’ at St Mirren.

The overall impression is not one of a smooth system running like a well-oiled machine.

How confident can we be that every club is doing absolutely everything right, rather than ticking boxes and hoping for the best?

Many are working wonders, of course. There are some brilliant people in Scottish football, sticklers for detail who are conscientious in the extreme.

But the weakest links in the chain remain a problem. Especially as the entire country enters a new and potentially more dangerous phase.

With schools back this week, the risk of localised outbreaks is more likely. And that affects footballers doing all the right things, as much as it applies to any loon licking the windows at the Soul Bar or heading straight to work after a mini-break on the Costa Del Coronavirus.

Professional athletes are no more immune to infection than anyone else. The possibility of more positive tests is already worked into the model, with clubs aware that players may be sidelined for — assuming they’re asymptomatic, anyway — about the same period it takes to heal a tweaked hamstring.

But they didn’t imagine this level of non-compliance by guys who, in all fairness, are entitled to feel just a bit special.

Their swagger isn’t entirely rooted in the adulation and fame that comes with even limited success in a passionate market like Scotland. The work they’ve put in over the years, the sacrifices endured to become something other than one of those talented prospects who never made the grade, it takes a different sort of character to do that.

And, along the way, it’s easy for some to believe that they exist in a very different kind of bubble. One where consequences, if any, are limited.

We can’t expect that to change overnight? Why not? Virtually every other human being on the planet has been forced to abandon lifelong habits and practices.

Everyone needs to play their part. Beating this thing will take more than just lip service from a manager pointing out all the good work being done by football.

So, one final message to those football folk who might grow weary of twice-weekly testing or get bored having to stay in on a Saturday night. You remember how mind-numbing lockdown was, right? No? Oh well, carry on then.

And you’ll be reminded soon enough.