COMPARISONS, as we know, are odious, but Ryan Giggs's marvellous goal against Arsenal has inevitably prompted them. "The goal of the century," and all that. There has, perhaps inevitably, been a backwash from the disgruntled fans of other clubs who, on one radio phone-in, tried to disparage the goal, saying, among other things, that it was scored against ageing, or at least weary, defenders.
Perhaps it was, but how often does that resolute Arsenal defence, or any other Premiership defence, give away a goal like that? For those like myself who deem Giggs the one British outfield player of world class, it was something of a validation.
"He made a run," says Marcello Lippi, the former Juventus manager, "that only three players could have brought off. A splendid run. I'm a very great admirer of Giggs, an excellent player, who has imagination, creativity, and very great pace, which, in the football of today is very important."
All these, certainly, are to be admired in the goal. Yet to some of us, it brought back images of a solo strike for Manchester United that was ecstatically praised at the time, and one I was fortunate enough to see.
It was scored at Old Trafford by George Best, who has claims not only to be a footballer of world class, but perhaps the best Britain has produced since the war. It was scored against Sheffield United, then a team riding high in the top division.
Best got the ball around the halfway line and began a remarkable solo run. Cutting in, inexorably, swerving and stepping past man after man, until at last, having left the lot of them breathlessly behind, he put the ball in the net.
As we know, he scored other sensational goals. One, for Northern Ireland at Wembley, against England, with an electric turn that left his marker statuesque. A similar turn, again at Wembley, brought United a crucial goal against Benfica in the 1968 European Cup final. Others, despite his lack of inches, with astounding leaps and formidable headers.
Giggs's goal has, perhaps inevitably, evoked comparisons with those of a still more celebrated player, Diego Maradona; especially the second that he scored against England in Mexico City's Azteca stadium, in the 1986 World Cup, after he had put Argentina ahead with the notorious Hand of God.Picking up the ball quite deep, his small, strong, sturdy figure dashed at the England defence, side-stepping and swerving past tackle after tackle, until his amazing left foot produced the final execution. I thought the goal he scored in the game against Belgium, some days later, was better still. Again, he ran at the defence; again, he eluded tackle after tackle from the lofty Belgian defenders until finally shooting home.
There is a case for saying that the goal against England was flawed. Immediately after that match, Gianni Melidoni, the sports editor of the Rome daily, Il Messaggero, told me: "The England defence was still in a state of shock, after the punched goal - like a man who has just had his wallet stolen."
In that same game, John Barnes, coming on as a belated midfield substitute, had a glorious quarter-hour for England on their left flank, playing ducks and drakes with the Argentine defence, evading them to cross the ball which enabled Gary Lineker to make it 2-1, dashing off again for another cross which Lineker, finishing in the net while the ball went just outside, so nearly converted for an equaliser.
All this to illustrate that after a player has scored a stupendous goal, there need not then be anti-climax. And Barnes's goal in Rio against Brazil, two years earlier, which I was also lucky enough to see, was outstanding.
This time, getting the ball on the left flank, he did not go down the wing, but headed for the centre, evading one attempt after another to stop him, until slamming home a diagonal left-footed drive. With that same left foot, he also made a spectacular headed goal for Mark Hateley for good measure.
Maradona did not rest on his laurels after his goals in the Azteca, or cease to score them in abundance. He did not do very much in the 1986 final, but without him and his virtuosity, Argentina would never have reached the next final in Rome.
Nor did Pele fall off after his phenomenal prowess as a 17-year-old in the 1958 World Cup finals in Sweden. He scored three goals in the semi-final against France in Stockholm - admittedly against a French team which lost its centre-half, Jonquet, through injury - following that with another two in the same stadium against Sweden in the final.
The first was a small miracle of calculated impudence. Surrounded by Swedish defenders, including the formidable "Iron Stove" - the blond Parling, a left-half who had put West Germany's captain, Fritz Walter, out of action in the semi-final - Pele hooked the ball over his head, caught it on his thigh, and walloped it home with his right foot.
Later, for good measure, he would jump high above Sweden's defence to head in Mario Zagallo's left-wing cross, a feat he repeated 12 years later when he towered over Italy's Tarcisio Burgnich to head Brazil's first goal in the Mexican World Cup final of 1970.
Ricky Villa, an Argentine inside-left, though much larger than Maradona, scored his remarkable goal for Spurs in the FA Cup final replay against Manchester City at Wembley, dribbling in from the left past a procession of defenders, before beating the City goalkeeper as well. Other goals rush to mind. David Beckham's extraordinary shot from beyond the halfway line at Selhurst Park when he looped the ball, right-footed, over the head of a marooned Neil Sullivan. A feat which even Pele could not quite achieve, when he tried it playing for Brazil against Romania in Guadalajara in the 1970 World Cup.
Nayim, who once played for Spurs, scored a goal to match Beckham's from a similar distance to win the 1995 Cup Winners' Cup final in Paris for Zaragoza against Arsenal. His right-footed shot soared high over the head of David Seaman.
But individualist goals are not the only ones to be remembered. What of those glorious goals such as the one that Johan Cruyff and Johan Neeskens worked out with almost surgical economy, the minimal exchange of passes, against Brazil in Dortmund on a rainy evening in the 1974 World Cup?
Or the goals Garrincha, that extraordinary Brazilian outside-right, made with two jaguar bursts for Vava in the 1958 World Cup final, to be followed in 1962 with the goals he headed and slammed home left-footed in the World Cup in Chile?
Comparisons? Perhaps we should just be grateful for the famous goals we can remember. Giggs's will surely be one of them.
