The phrase “cometh the hour, cometh the man” has rarely been more apt in Scottish football than for Mark McGhee at Motherwell. Football, like the rest of society, doesn’t cope well with death, indeed, it can often be gauche in the throes of tragedy. Yet McGhee’s conduct throughout the Phil O’Donnell tragedy has been something to behold.

The Motherwell manager was forced before the cameras again yesterday, on the eve of his club’s first match since O’Donnell collapsed and died on the Fir Park pitch 14 days ago.

Today, Motherwell face Heart of Midlothian at Tynecastle in the fourth round of the Scottish Cup, and it promises to be a supremely moving occasion.

McGhee has made it plain that it is time to move on, to get back to football. “I want it to be a great game,” he said yesterday. “I want the Hearts fans to really cheer for their team and for our fans to do likewise. I want it to be about two teams really setting about each other. It is how it should be. We all remember Phil and we honour him.”

It has been a real testament to the humanity of the Motherwell manager that he has so excelled over these past two weeks.

McGhee has spoken to fans, watched the wreathes being laid, watched the tributes descend on the O’Donnell shrine outside Fir Park, and all the while been a rock to O’Donnell’s widow, Eileen, and her four children. He has also cajoled his players back to normality, urging them to laugh and joke again, just as they used to.

“I believe that is the best way to honour Phil,” McGhee told me earlier this week. “To smile, to laugh, to get back to living life again. That is absolutely what Phil would have wanted.”

If it isn’t too inappropriate to say so, as well being touched by McGhee’s conduct, it has also at times been amusing watching the Motherwell manager. He has a dry verbal delivery and a face to go with it which can bring humour to any situation. Andy Walker, McGhee’s old teammate at Celtic in the early 1990s, describes him as “easily one of the funniest guys I ever knew in a dressing-room”. Yet in the past two weeks a deep sensitivity within McGhee has been obvious to anyone who has observed Motherwell’s pain.

Today at Tynecastle promises to be an emotional experience. Hearts, with a nice touch themselves, have produced a match programme which bears O’Donnell’s portrait on its front cover. The ground will be packed, and charged with the sort of atmosphere that may defy our usual trite descriptions.

Motherwell, quite wonderfully, have sold out their entire allocation for the away end, and their supporters will lend their own sentiment and excitement to the occasion. Just before kick-off, the plan is for McGhee’s players to convene their own huddle down in front of their supporters, where for a few quiet moments together they will recite and celebrate the name of their lost captain. Among those players will be Davie Clarkson, the nephew of O’Donnell, who played in the same team as his uncle.

It won’t be a moment for faint hearts. Those of us who are pretty stony-faced when it comes to football should, on this occasion, come quite clean about it: the scene at Tynecastle may be one that is hard to take in without a flinch. I defy any neutral, too, not to feel a sense of exhilaration and celebration should Motherwell go and score. We’ll all know whose goal that will be.

O’Donnell’s death has provoked a number of strange responses. It has reawoken in some the essential goodness of football and the quality of people – such as O’Donnell, such as McGhee – who populate the game. It has also triggered again an appreciation of Motherwell FC, a fine old Scottish institution steeped in its Lanarkshire heartland, where some of the game’s greatest characters have been reared and played.

A deeper response to the passing of O’Donnell can also be captured in one simple sentence. Many Scottish fans have looked on aghast at what happened to the Motherwell captain and simply felt a renewed gratitude for the vigour and joy of life.

It has been inspiring to see McGhee, his club and its supporters embark on their healing process. The memory of Phil O’Donnell is being suitably cherished.