No favours, no pity and sheer thunder from the stands... Ukraine wouldn’t want it any other way

SING the visitors’ anthem if you want to. Let those caught up in the disasters of war know you are with them. But in those moments when the escapism of the game becomes a very temporary diversion on Wednesday evening, feel no guilt over turning Hampden Park — or your front room, local watering hole or wherever you choose — into a thunderous, partisan geyser of Scottishness.

In the end, it is about respect. A sign that we, unlike certain others, regard these Ukrainian footballers and the tens of millions they represent as equals, deserving of nothing other than our best. And deserving of a sporting occasion that offers an all-too-brief outbreak of normality in what, for them, is a wholly abnormal, frightening situation.

Yes, the world outside will be cheering on Oleksandr Petrakov and his players when they meet Steve Clarke’s side in the World Cup play-off semi-final. Understandably so, given the neverending horrors of the Russian invasion of their homeland.

It is what goes on within the confines of the National Stadium that matters, though. And for 90 or 120 minutes or whatever it takes, surely Petrakov & Co. expect nothing other than the honour of a proper, noble contest with no quarter asked nor given. And an atmosphere to match.

That’s the message they have sent out from the start. The tone they set themselves as we all waited for this encounter, originally scheduled for March, to be played at a more suitable time. If there could ever be such a thing.

They gave short shrift to the silly idea of allowing them a free pass to Qatar. They made it abundantly clear they wanted to earn their place in the World Cup finals the right way — on the field of play.

While no expert on matters 2,000 miles away, the Ukrainians do not appear people in search of pity. Self-determination is in their DNA. And encouraging them to maintain their sense of self-worth is something we, as hosts, can play a part in too.

This, of course, is already playing out across the country as we slowly welcome families from the former Soviet republic to our communities and their children to our schools. We must be mindful of what and where they have come from. We must be sensitive to what they have witnessed, what they are going through and the help they need to settle into an unfamiliar environment.

Yet, there is also a need to find a space for the small talk that oils the wheels of all our lives, to engage them in activities, have fun, compare cultures, integrate their young into school life despite the language barriers and the further complications created by the written differences between Cyrillic script and English.

It’s all part of that important process of offering some semblance of normality. And what could be more normal than a high-stakes football match with complete commitment on the field and natural rivalry in the stands. Where absolutely everything must be earned through toil and skill.

Clarke and his squad will surely hit all the right notes in the build-up and the aftermath. They are a good bunch of guys growing progressively stronger as a unit with captain Andy Robertson, an excellent leader, speaking so well earlier in the week when discussing the need to separate sympathy from the job at hand when the first whistle blows.

That’s what being a professional is about. And it is something the professionals on the other side of the Hampden pitch in their yellow-and-blue colours will appreciate and understand. No special treatment. No favours. May the best team win.

Back when the match was initially postponed, Ukraine FA president Andriy Pavelko talked of his dreams of football songs and chants filling the streets of his country once again rather than the noise of shells and bombs.

This will be a welcome reminder for him, and others, of what that sounds like. Yet, our lads have their own dreams, too. Robertson was eager to point that out.

The prospect of performing at a World Cup is something they have spent their entire lives, in a cut-throat, ultra-competitive industry, working towards.

Yes, that fades into the background when compared to war and suffering, but it is not insignificant. For all these players, the meeting with Ukraine will be one of the biggest nights of their lives. They deserve their shot at glory, too, and they deserve the nation’s unflinching support.

Of course, this will be no normal game. Manchester City’s Oleksandr Zinchenko has already spoken about ‘shaking inside’ at the prospect of making his compatriots proud at Hampden. There will be raw emotion. And no shortage of solidarity too.

The prospect of the Tartan Army being handed a sheet containing the words of the Ukrainian anthem, in phonetic form, to sing along to may not have been universally acclaimed, but it seems a well intentioned gesture that could create a very special moment.

However, Scotland must realise they are going to face 11 men standing two feet taller, galvanised by that and strengthened by adversity, inspired by the waves of support being directed their way from across the planet.

That’s why our supporters have to feel no shame in lifting their team to new heights, too. To create another night for the ages like the 2-0 win over Denmark in November — when Clarke and his men showed injuries to key players need not be an impediment to success — or those crucial, unforgettable home triumphs from the 1980s against the likes of France or Spain.

It will no doubt stick in the craw of many Scotland diehards, but they could do worse than follow the example set by Rangers supporters in the Europa League games this season.

There was a special alchemy inside Ibrox for those games against Dortmund, Braga, Red Star and RB Leipzig on the way to the final.

A frenzy. A magical combination of noise and colour and feeling that made the impossible possible and showed what can happen when the players and their public stand as one.

Indeed, for one night only, as they attempt to create a similarly inspiring backdrop to a match the entire world will be looking in on, the Tartan Army may also have to learn to live by a particularly Rangers motto.

No one likes us. We don’t care. At least until the match is over — and we can buy our new Ukrainian neighbours a pint.