With the Scottish Football Association today announcing the layout of the so-called Project Brave academy structure, you could hardly be blamed for finding it difficult to share in the optimism of Malky Mackay and his shameless bosses.

This is, of course, a bold new initiative put forward by a Football Association unfit for purpose; an FA that somehow manages to make a clusterfuck of the majority of things it handles, while led by the bafflingly inept Stewart Regan – a man who should have been shown the door years ago. Factor in the procession of “Performance Directors” who preceded a man now renowned for sending bigoted, racist, sexist, homophobic, anti-Semitic texts, and it’s hard to really share in the wave of excitement attempting to be manufactured from offices within the walls of Hampden.

And that’s before you even consider Project Brave itself.

In a world of ever-changing football philosophies and ideologies, countries around the globe are taking a similar stance to Scotland – identifying that regular qualification for international tournaments is the long-term objective and making plans now to ensure that such aims can be accomplished for future generations. It is exactly this progressive, considered approach that a country like Scotland requires if we are to improve our national game – and, for recognising that fact and seemingly abandoning the usual short-terminism, the Scottish FA does deserve some credit.

However, even then we seem to take joy in going off on our own, ignoring the practices by other successful nations, deciding instead to draw up our own bizarre plans under the watchful eye of the Performance Director’s revolving door. When you compare our approach to such a conundrum with that of an often cited example – Iceland – the differences are staggering.

When I first visited Iceland in 2008, I was enamoured with the country – the scenery, the people, the incredibly expensive booze (maybe not so much…). I had already developed a subtle interest in Icelandic football around eight years previous, “adopting” KR after writing an article on them for a magazine while on high school work experience, and Reykjavik quickly became one of my favourite cities on earth. Football-wise, the country was something of a backwater – perhaps understandable for a country of not much over 300,000 people.

The Úrvalsdeild karla (the Icelandic top division), largely dominated throughout history by Reykjavik clubs, was sub-standard, often boasting the odd player recognisable to Scottish football fans plying their trade at the top end of the table as they approached the end of their careers (KR alone include Andy Roddie, Barry Lavety, and Davie Winnie as notable previous players – the third of whom would go on to be manager for a spell). The national side – having never qualified for a major tournament in history – found themselves languishing in the 80s of the FIFA World Rankings (falling to as low as 133 four years later), largely considered the kind of minnows you were happy to draw in a qualification group. Eiður Guðjohnsen and, perhaps, Hermann Hreiðarsson were really the only big Icelandic names in world football. It was, to be fair, exactly the kind of standard of football you would expect for such a small, volcanic, island nation floating in the North Atlantic.

When I returned to Reykjavik in 2016, the country was noticeably different. In general terms, tourism had begun to etch its mark into the landscape of Iceland – suddenly more holiday-makers wandered the streets, more tour busses and taxis zipped about the roads, and more American and Irish bars and restaurants had popped up. But there was also a very noticeable and infectious buzz about the place, as Iceland prepared to kick-off their debut appearance in the European Championships, a tournament they would reach the quarter-finals of (knocking England out in the process), gaining the affection of football supporters around the world in the process. Suddenly, Icelandic footballers were sought after in the English Premiership and abroad, the national side was up to 21 in the World Rankings, and sights were immediately set on qualifying for their first ever World Cup two years later (which they have subsequently qualified for).

The difference in Icelandic football between my first visit in 2008 and my return eight years later is mind-blowing. And how did they achieve it? It wasn’t luck, nor was it the result of a nationwide appeal to the Norse Gods. And, more importantly, it wasn’t achieved by creating so-called “elite” leagues which focused on only a small number of clubs and targeted only a handful of the most promising players. They achieved their success by doing almost the exact opposite – by making football, and good quality coaching, accessible to everyone the length and breadth of the country.

Of course, our Nordic neighbours went through the same process of self-reflection and identifying that a long-term strategy was required – in Iceland, a push towards improving youth development and achieving domestic and international success began as early as 2001. But the Icelandic model wasn’t to throw cash at boldly-claimed elite clubs, minimising youth development largely to Reykjavik in the process, nor was it to separate the wheat from the chaff in terms of prospects, choosing only to focus on those worthy of top quality coaching.

Instead, Iceland embarked on a truly progressive and incredibly impressive project of their own – striving to have as many qualified football coaches as possible, undertaking the work required to ensure fantastic facilities are available all over the country (a difficult task for many countries never mind one with months of minimal daylight), and venturing to ensure that as many Icelandic kids are playing football as possible.

The results are there for everyone to see. Iceland’s success on the park has been the stuff of football fairy-tales in recent years, with the Viking Thunder Clap (originating at Fir Park, of course) now heralded as a symbol of a tiny, plucky country’s ability to take on the world’s best and win. And off the park, the structures and initiatives that have fed into that success should act as an example to all of us who aspire to similar success – Iceland has around 600 qualified coaches, that’s around one UEFA trained football coach for around every 800 people, working in outstanding facilities all over the country, where children are fully encouraged to take part in footballing programmes regardless of ability.

When you have such a progressive beacon of light, which has been so successful in recent years, just over 500 miles away from your northern coast, it is perhaps symptomatic of our expectations of the Scottish Football Association that it comes as no surprise that they have chosen not to follow suit and, instead, go with Project Brave.

Let’s be completely clear here – there is nothing “brave” about throwing the best facilities and the most money at a small group of elite clubs, the large majority of whom are in the central belt. “Project Business-As-Usual” may have been a better name for such a proposal. Once again, we have a situation where the Scottish FA’s approach to something incredibly important leaves a lot to be desired and poses more questions than answers.

And yet sadly, as a Motherwell fan, I have to be relieved that my club has been named in the eight elite clubs chosen. I have huge doubts over the potential of Project Brave and I feel both dismayed and utterly disappointed that a more Icelandic-approach was not adopted but the fact remains that, with the Scottish FA’s pet project now in place, a club like the Steelmen simply can not afford to be outside the tent pissing in.

We rely on youth development not just to fill our first-team but also to bring in much needed funds to the club, and the prospect of being unable to attract the best young players in the area due to not having elite status – while nearby sides like Hamilton Accies, Rangers and Celtic pluck the finest prospects available – is something that could have proven hugely problematic for the future of our club.

Project Brave is, by its very nature, elitist. Its model aims to focus the majority of funds and attention on an elite handful of clubs, largely isolating them from the rest; its model aims to focus the majority of funds and attention on an elite handful of players, largely isolating them from the rest. If the Icelandic approach is progressive, innovative, and accessible, what is Project Brave?  If the Icelandic approach has been successful, what is ours to be? There is a genuine dilemma here. Project Brave locks clubs similar to ourselves out of the party and, as such, it is instinctive to want to show solidarity with those clubs and to be a principled opposition to such a move; but, as already mentioned, not being involved could be genuinely disastrous for our club.

There are always huge risks with any long-term strategy. Project Brave has already been a few years in production and after it’s implemented, it will be years before we are able to fully ascertain whether or not it has been a successful scheme. There is no question that, domestically, it was absolutely vital that Motherwell made the cut and, for that, I do breathe a sigh of relief.

However, I make no bones about being very much a sceptic of the Scottish FA’s new approach to youth development and, in terms of international football and the development of young Scottish footballers in general, I fear that we have taken this opportunity for change, disregarded the lessons handed to us on a plate by Iceland, and made yet another mess of it – Stewart Regan and the Scottish Football Association’s raisan d’être.

I, of course, hope very much that I am wrong but rather than achieving the kind of success Iceland has recently, the Scottish FA could be leading us into a future where it is Iceland’s neighbours to the south who are the footballing backwater, destined to languish in the dingy depths of the FIFA World Rankings, and watching guys like Barry Lavety and Andy Roddie winding down their careers at our country’s biggest clubs.