IN a little under a week, Scotland may be reminded of our place in the scheme of things in world football if Steve Clarke’s reign kicks off with anything other than a straightforward win over Cyprus at Hampden. But last night, one of our own was at the centre of the universe.

After the heartache of losing out at the final hurdle 12 months ago, Andy Robertson – the Scotland captain – is now the proud owner of a Champions League winners medal. He joins an exclusive band of Scots to have won the club game’s biggest prize in the modern era, alongside Paul Lambert and Darren Fletcher, the latter of which - through a combination of bad luck and bad officiating - never took to the field in the continent’s showpiece occasion.

That Robertson has taken to the pitch in the Champions League final twice now only partly explains how the Scot was so comfortable in such surroundings. The inferiority complex that has hindered so many of his countrymen before him does not afflict the unassuming 25-year-old, who is quietly cocksure in his ability and in his right to mix it at the very highest level.

Robertson didn’t have to convince anyone that he had a right to be on the field at the Wanda Metropolitano last night. His play did that for him.

Assured in possession, typically athletic as he patrolled the left wing and always an attacking threat with his pinpoint delivery from wide areas, Robertson showed exactly why his rise from Queen’s Park to the top of the game had everything to do with a combination of talent and hard work, and nothing to do with luck. In his own words, he has worked his b******s off for it.

If Robertson or his teammates did have any nerves going into this final, they were soon settled by a criminal moment of negligence from Tottenham. The build-up to this game had lasted three weeks, but the goal that went a long way to settle the destination of the European Cup arrived after just 30 seconds. Moussa Sissoko threw up an arm, Sadio Mane – either by accident or design – dinked the ball off of it, and Mohammed Salah did the rest from 12 yards.

For Robertson and the other men in red, it was the signal to settle into cruise control. Not that the Scot was for standing still.

He was rarely stretched defensively in the first half as Spurs saved up a woeful performance on the biggest stage of all, and that was all the encouragement he needed to influence the game going the other way. A 25-yard rasping shot that Hugo Lloris has to look smart to tip over was an indication of how far on the front foot he was.

That continued into the second half, as his thrusts up the left were the highlight – to the Scottish eye at least – of a game that only rarely bubbled up beyond the mediocre.

But the apparent no show from Tottenham is also a credit to Liverpool. Their relentless running, harrying and pressing unsettles opponents even when they aren’t at their best, and no one exemplifies that perpetual motion more than Robertson.

Any doubt about the outcome was removed three minutes from the end, as substitute Divock Origi, one of the heroes of the Lazarus-like semi-final resurrection against Barcelona, slammed home with a clinical finish into the bottom corner.

It was fitting that it was in Madrid, the city that is home to the competition’s most decorated side (albeit at the home of Real’s great rivals, Atletico) that Liverpool nudged their way into the pantheon of the greats. Their sixth European Cup triumph makes them the third most successful side in the tournament’s history, and it was hard to grudge Jurgen Klopp’s side a tangible reward for a season of relentless brilliance. So too was it hard to grudge the inspirational figurehead of the club, Klopp, his first victory in his last seven finals as a manager.

For the Scots watching though, there was only one hero of the hour. He is Andy Robertson. He is a Champions League winner. He is the captain of Scotland. And he’s all ours.