THE online jury has delivered its verdict. In the court of public opinion, Malky Mackay is guilty as charged.

The reaction to Mackay’s appointment as Performance Director last week was, as is usual in our game and indeed our society, a bit over the top. Nobody creates a mountain out of a molehill like those in Scottish football and those on the outside looking in who pass comment on it.

Amongst all the debate and the outrage, there was the argument that is put forward on every occasion that football finds itself on the front pages as well as the back.

Time and time again we are told that players and managers are role models, people that a younger generation should look up to. As a result, they should be held to a higher moral code than the rest of us. But why?

We all had our heroes growing up, but there is a difference between admiring a player’s talents on the pitch and wanting to be like him off it. Footballers live life in the spotlight but have the same flaws and shortcomings as Joe Public.

Nobody is perfect, and players certainly aren’t. So why do some seek to put them up on a pedestal? They are just as capable of making errors of judgement as the rest of us.

They have a responsibility, of course, and should be expected to conduct themselves in a professional manner. But they shouldn’t be chastised more than anyone else when they fall below the standards upon which our society is based.

If you want someone to look up to, don’t make it a football personality. Being good at sticking the ball in the net or setting out a team doesn’t necessarily mean you are holier than thou.

It is not up to footballers to be a shining light to follow. When they hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons, they are castigated and criticised because they are setting a bad example.

It shouldn’t be up to them, though. If you are a parent, guardian, sibling or even a teacher, it is your responsibility to show kids the difference between right and wrong.

Children should be inspired by what footballers do on the park, but their lives should not be shaped by their actions off it. And the role model rhetoric should not be a weight on their shoulders when they confront their demons.

In Mackay’s case, many would have him banished from the game forever because of the now infamous messages he sent a couple of years ago. Everyone from former players and managers to politicians and campaigners had a say on the 44-year-old.

People in the game are no less susceptible to mistakes than those out of it yet football fans are a fickle bunch. The punters made their points and it didn’t make for pleasant listening for Mackay or Stewart Regan.

The irony of it all was that the most vociferous condemnation came on the platform that has become a breeding ground for discrimination and abuse. While the debate in the media was reasoned and sensible, the outcry online was anything but.

Twitter, so often a cesspit of anger and hatred, was full of supporters on their high horses.

Mackay’s actions should not be defended and it can only be hoped that he truly is sorry for the offence that he has caused and that he has learned from the experience.

But he won’t be the only person who has used language that could offend or sent messages, privately remember, that they would not wish others to see.

And if those same members of the public are honest, they will admit to personal failings, of actions that they are not proud of.

Fans will go to a ground and swear at players and officials, display distasteful banners or sing objectionable songs but then become moral guardians when the tables are turned and footballers find themselves in the spotlight.

The game is far from perfect, but neither is society in general. Footballers may live in their own Scottish game bubble, but they are just like the rest of us deep down.