Putin will suffer the consequences, but Fifa's appeasement further exposes their vile greed.

Above the red roads of Kyiv the chilling echoes of Russian SU-25 aircraft encircle the capital. The city is ablaze. Streams of terrified tears flow through the concrete streets as men, women, children march half-asleep in search of shelter, salvation. Civilians so brave they choose to fight - not out of hatred, rather for the penchant land that generation upon generation has strived to preserve. In life conflict is a certainty. Every infant is born with a television projecting an image of shattered houses and piled bodybags. But just over that stretch of water and those line of trees, a few thousand miles east of our once secure home, war has seldom seemed closer.

And yet, here everything appears so natural. We see the barrage of bullets, the burnt-out trucks, the rising smoke through pixels only. We feel powerless, we feel lucky, we feel sorry. There are few things in this spinning, unsightly world of ours that connect us all in some odd way. Sport is powerful. Yes, rivalries are rife, violence is a vice, so zoom away from the drips of futile aggression to discover the foundations of a nefarious system: Governments, organisations, dictatorships. There will always be a dictator perched at the top, and someone below so obsequious to cringe the wrinkled face. Ukraine is under siege … ’sorry, did you say something?’

Fifa, corruption. That synonymous pair of words has rarely carried greater pertinence as this constantly evolving, invariably devastating conflict swells with each passing day. Questions thrown; mouths glued shut. Pounds, dollars, roubles - the fuel of humanity forever stitched onto the greedy hearts. Belatedly the conveyor belt begins to churn out some punishment, some answers for us to ponder over. Russia’s national football team were to be acknowledged as the not-so-very-catchy ‘Football Union of Russia’ (how very IOC of them), with the flag and anthem banned (again, this seems a suspiciously familiar penalty). And now after much, much deliberation, Fifa and Uefa have suspended them from all competitions.

How removed from their own game these wealthy sloven slugs actually are. As the pressure mounted on Gianni Infantino, as the tanks continued to bust through the border gates, and as footballers like Ruslan Malinovskyi, Oleksandr Zinchenko…Matty Cash, all stood in solidarity, only then was a plan to evict Vladimir Putin’s Russia enforced. From Paris to Peterborough, Leipzig to Luton, that same Ukrainian flag flashes in the crowd, drapes from the upper echelons of Europe’s contrasting stadia. And so we reach Infantino cowering under the wing of his dear chum Putin. Whilst all the other sporting associations were renouncing Russia from their future activities, Fifa were last to fall, gutlessly at best.

In the aftermath of the 2018 World Cup, a tournament that expected disorder but proved surprisingly amiable, Infantino accepted the Order of Friendship medal from Putin. A few photos, awkward smiles and a dirty handshake later, the world would never forget. The continued appeasement, the ‘let’s not quite prohibit them just yet but wait for a reaction’ sort of stance. It’s villainous. It’s expected. We know of Russia’s murky prominence in sport - from the frivolous doping scandals to the sponsorships fuelled by the oil that sits patiently below the soil, ready to be sucked up to the surface. Cha-ching. Gazprom hastily removed, Roman Abramovich panic selling, Russia cut-off from civilisation. Sanctions enforced yet to what avail? Still the shells rain down on the civilians.

But this is far larger than football. This is about survival in our very continent. Infantino sits in disgrace as Putin stands a war criminal. These are two ends of a desperately gloomy spectrum. At last a conclusion was reached. Russia barred from the table, their aspirations for World Cup qualification detonated, Spartak Moscow’s Europa League dreams fade in their blackened, soundless sky. A chasm in society, the partition between dictators and ordinary society must be recognised. No, not every person with a Russian passport wants this fight, this grief beyond all stretches of humanity, but punishments have to be imposed.

On Wednesday Russian football captain Artem Dzyuba responded to fierce criticism from Ukrainian internationals Vitalii Mykolenko and Andriy Yarmolenko over his (lack of) response. Silence snapped; paragraph produced. Dyzuba wrote “war is scary”, before declaring his pride for his homeland: “I am not ashamed to be Russian…I’m proud to be Russian”, he says, to a photo of himself staring longingly, heroically toward an out-of-focus camera-flash crowd. Dzyuba and his fellow colleagues will have to wait before playing beneath the white, blue and red of Russia. Likely too will world No 1. tennis player Daniil Medvedev as the 26 year-old awaits news of his imminent future. Throw in the Champions League final for good measure. Oh, and the Grand Prix too. The culture is hastily ripped out from the belly of Putin’s regime.

Should they suffer as a result of their nation’s actions? It is no light-hearted verdict, although it is the appropriate response. Envision yourself stranded, frozen at the sight of familiar bodies lying as if asleep on the bloody concrete, fearful that this incessant bombing is drawing closer, and closer, and closer. Into the valley of death ride the unyielding Ukrainians. Family members, friends, partners all protecting their flag. To then witness Russian athletes plastered over the screens, brazenly taking centre-stage in a distant district. Could you fathom such fury? Morality is not subjective, mercenaries are not built without money, and never has this been clearer.

This frightful struggle surges with every conquered settlement. The cracking of gunfire rings eerily around the cities, the towns, the villages with resistance slowing down their callous charge. Russia will bear the brunt for their liability; its name will be forever blurred in the shadows of time. But so too will Fifa. A damaged reputation now crumbled beyond all repair, all belief, the truths are known. There is no running away from it. We see you over there hiding, sheltering, crawling, yet still reaching out for the next pot of blood money.