There are people who can touch the heart of a nation, even if they do not know it. That is why television offers the comfort blanket of Morecambe and Wise every Christmas: because it reminds us of the time that they were here, in person, to put a smile on everyone’s face.

Incongruously, the classic sketch of Eric Morecambe defensively telling the world-famous conductor, André Previn, that he was not playing the wrong piano notes - he was playing the right notes, but in the wrong order – came to mind yesterday as the Scottish Premier League (SPL) responded to the death of Phil O’Donnell.

By calling off the Old Firm game tomorrow, but only after Celtic had made a request, the ruling body achieved the right decision – but in the wrong way. Indeed, the SPL made ham-fisted Eric look like a virtuoso. As soon as the impact and manner of O’Donnell’s death on Saturday became known, the SPL should simply have wiped out the entire New Year fixture list in the Clydesdale Bank Premier League.

If he were still here, O’Donnell would undoubtedly be embarrassed to see the wave of emotion that his death has triggered. Not just in Scottish football, but among the Scottish public. And far beyond Motherwell, or even Lanarkshire.

That is what happens when gifted players die doing the job that they love and playing the game that we love. O’Donnell’s name is now known in every continent because of the tragic circumstances in which he was taken from this world.

Just as with Antonio Puerta’s death in August at the age of 22 while playing for Seville, or that of Miklos Feher, of Benfica, in 2005, or Marc-Vivien Foé, while playing for Cameroon in Lyons, O’Donnell now finds his name known by people who never even knew he existed. The respected German football magazine Kicker, upon hearing that the Old Firm game was cancelled, asked me to write about O’Donnell for their readers, who usually love catching up on Celtic and Rangers.

If that sort of reaction has been generated so far away, then why cannot those closer to home see the situation with the same clarity? The fact that the SPL waited until Celtic approached them before calling off the Old Firm game is shameful. All six Premier League games ought to be off.

The ruling body did postpone Motherwell’s scheduled match with Hibernian tomorrow. That was an obvious decision, as was the cancellation of Gretna v St Mirren at Fir Park. Quite what the feelings of the Gretna players, who rent Motherwell’s ground, or those of Mark McGhee, the Motherwell manager, will be upon returning to the same turf on which O’Donnell died, is open to question.

The game there on Sunday between Motherwell and Celtic has also been called off, but only because of a request from the O’Donnell family, who could not bear the thought of two of the teams that Phil played for being involved in a game before he had even been buried.

The rest of the New Year programme, though? It should have been swiftly called off. In the same way that the games in La Liga were shelved when Spanish football collectively mourned Puerta, or when Serie A was put on hold after an Italian policeman was killed by rioting fans last February in Catania, Sicily. Surely the players of Dundee United, who watched O’Donnell die, should also have been spared from having to play Heart of Midlothian tomorrow, instead of being one of only three remaining games?

The notion that the Old Firm game is too big to call off at short notice is nonsense. If the Champions League can call off a game at four hours’ notice – as it did in 2001 albeit in the aftermath of 9/11, or as it did this season when it postponed Seville’s match with AEK Athens because of Puerta’s death – then the SPL could easily have done the same.

Undoubtedly, it will cut across the agreement with the broadcaster, Setanta, but advertisers can be placated by pointing out that they will get the same audience whenever the Glasgow derby is rescheduled.

You did not have to be a trained psychologist to grasp that some of the Celtic players yesterday had no desire to go training, let alone face Rangers. The body language of Scott McDonald and Stephen McManus, in particular, betrayed two men whose thoughts are probably still at the Fir Park shrine to O’Donnell, where they laid wreaths to their friend on Sunday.

For the SPL not to anticipate this, shows a lack of sensitivity. O’Donnell played for Celtic for five years but the club should not have had to justify to the SPL why it wanted the game off. It should have been obvious.

Few footballers, or fans for that matter, have the appetite for the game just now. I will watch football 24/7, in any country, in any strip, on any channel, or at any park. I will happily stand in pouring rain just to watch my son train with his team. But right now, I could not bear to look at the television, let alone go to a ground.

If Phil O’Donnell was about one thing, even more than his talent as a player, it was his devotion to his wife, Eileen, and their four children. We should all take a rare piece of quality time and go and spend it with the people we love. There will be other Old Firm games. There will be other days for people to debate and contest this wonderful game. Life goes on but right now, Scottish football needs an interval to pause for reflection.