THEY signed for Celtic Boys Club.

But they dreamed of playing for Celtic.

Not of becoming professional footballers, not of being spotted by any old scout.

No, every single kid who was used and abused by an organised paedophile ring posing as coaches did what they were told because they thought it would help them make it with THEIR team.

That’s why decades of denial by the people in charge at Parkhead remains so shameful, even now that they’re finally paying compensation to those innocent victims of sexual torture.

And that’s why, no matter how much the final bill amounts to, Celtic Football Club will forever fall short of meeting their obligations until they find the courage to show some genuine remorse.

It’s not enough to be sorry that it happened, as their mealy-mouthed statement put it.

It’s not enough to regret the seriousness of it because of what they describe as “historic links” to their own youth set-up.

No, until Celtic publicly declare their heartfelt sorrow for every single evil act committed during this horrendous episode . . . well, I’m afraid it feels as if all they’re doing is paying for the whole messy business to go away.

Legal firm Thompsons claimed that Celtic Football Club and Celtic Boys Club were “inextricably linked”.

So the fact that, despite this settlement, the most successful organisation in Scotland’s national sport still choose to treat it all as the fault of people over whom they somehow had no control . . . well, it’s as pitiful as it is cowardly.

Should they choose to argue this, I refer them back to my opening lines.

Those abused kids joined Celtic Boys Club because they dreamed of playing for Celtic Football Club.

They joined Celtic Boys Club because they dreamed of being Billy McNeill or Jinky Johnstone or Kenny Dalglish.

They joined Celtic Boys Club because to pull on those hoops and run out of that tunnel to a soaring chorus of You’ll Never Walk Alone . . . well, making that dream a reality would have made their lives complete.

So whether or not there was a link between the youth set-up and the senior club in terms of finance, organisation or chain of command, the emotional link was unbreakable.

To those kids, the pathway that led from one to the other was a green-and-white brick road.

That this road turned out to lead them to a private hell, that all those dreams turned into decades of recurring nightmares thanks to the actions of men who were meant to be their mentors, is something all the gold in the world won’t fix.

There aren’t enough tenners in circulation to take away so much pain and suffering.

But you know what might just finally allow some wounds to heal?

You know what might just finally edge some of those victims a little nearer to some form of closure?

If the club they grew up loving found the courage to finally, properly accept its part in it all.

Is that really too much to ask?