From Leo Messi to Wayne Rooney, via a ridiculous rabona, we select some of the most sublime strikes from the past 10 years

The comparisons with another great Argentinian were obvious. This, though, was better. The past decade has not been found wanting when it comes to goals of stunning individual skill – Yoann Gourcuff, Dennis Bergkamp and Zlatan Ibrahimovic are testament to that – but what sets this apart is the leg-blurring speed of its execution. The journey from the halfway line to the back of the net takes just short of nine seconds. Nine seconds.

Yet this goal was and is about more than just those nine seconds. It is this image of Messi, just 19 at the time, that endures – the almost cartoonish speed, the mop of hair fluttering like a comet's tail, the defenders ragged and flailing in panic. He could score long-range efforts to surpass Xabi Alonso and co, he could finish off a move of breathtaking elan to put Esteban Cambiasso to shame, he could ping one in blindfolded and on one leg in the final minute of a Champions League final, but this picture of pacey poetry will still be the Messi that is burned on the collective football conscience.

Yes, the defending was pitiful. Yes, in the grander scheme of things, it meant little. Yes, Maxi Rodríguez's volley-to-end-all-volleys for the same team in the same tournament was probably better. And, yes, it failed to make this Joy of Six. But still, this was arguably the iconic World Cup goal of the decade, the one that stands as testament to that Argentina side's – sadly unfulfilled – potential.

Would it make any difference if Argentina had fulfilled that promise and gone on to lift the trophy in Germany? Not a jot. Great goals are not the preserve of winners. José Pekerman's bottle job against the hosts in the quarter-final does nothing to diminish Cambiasso's big moment. If anything, it only adds to the poignancy, the sense of what might have been.

The goal is the sort that gets described as "liquid football" or some such nonsense (I write disparagingly before attempting to compare said goal to intercourse). Football as sex is something of an overused metaphor, but "liquid" suggests a flow and there was nothing particularly flowing about the move as a whole. It is cautious at first. Mostly nervous prodding. By the climax things are moving very fast indeed. Feel free to add your own double entendres for Cambiasso's explosive finish. Or just use that one.

Some (MEntioning no naMEs) had heard talk of a promising 16-year-old striker at Everton and stuck him in their Fantasy Football team for 2002-03. He did not earn as many points as, say, an intelligent purchase such as David Unsworth (defenders who take penalties – always a Fantasy winner) but delivered a juggernaut full of smugness when he decisively ended Arsenal's 30-game unbeaten run.

Rooney has scored better goals – take your pick here – but this was the one that announced the arrival of a player who would go on to become the English player of the decade. It's a goal that screams: "This is how good I am right now. Think about how good I may become." Even the commentary is self-consciously (not to mention irritatingly) Big Moment.

We're probably still waiting for the career-defining Rooney goal, but this was where it began.

While Rooney's goal heralded the beginning of something of an era, this was a last hurrah. As the champagne corks popped to welcome in a new millennium, Rivaldo was on top of the world. In 1999 he was Fifa World Player of the Year, European Footballer of the Year and the Ballon d'Or winner. He had Copa América and La Liga winners' medals dangling from his neck (two tournaments in which he had been named Footballer of the Year and MVP). At 27 and undisputedly the best player in the world he could look forward to, what, eight more years at or near the top?

His best, though, was largely behind him and this strike – to complete what the Observer's John Carlin described as "the most gloriously implausible hat-trick anyone has ever scored in a top-class game" – was his final flourish, even if he did pick up a Champions League medal with Milan in 2003.

On the final day of the 2000-01 season Barça and Valencia were going mano-a-mano at Camp Nou for La Liga's final Champions League spot. The visitors were three points clear in fourth – only a victory would be good enough for the hosts. Twice the Brazilian put Barcelona ahead – first with a clipped free-kick and then with a drive of astonishing ferocity – twice Rubén Baraja levelled for Valencia. As the seconds ticked down Barcelona were set to miss out on a top-four finish for the first time since 1988 and only the second time in 20 years. And then ...

Some great goals require faith. You need to believe, for example, that Laurent Robert got this completely right and not completely wrong and that Roberto Carlos wasn't horrendously overhitting an attempt to pick someone out in the middle. Football sometimes needs us to put aside our cynicism – the world is a better place if we believe Vasquez when he says he meant this.

That is certainly his claim – and a day or two later he showed a TV crew again just to make his point.

Even then, there's a nagging doubt sulking in the back of the mind and mumbling about it being a botched cross. And if you dwell on it too deeply, you'll find sitting alongside that doubt will be another little curmudgeonly chunk of cortex moaning about "percentage balls" and insisting that, even if he did intend to shoot, he shouldn't have. Ignore them. Grab a ball, find a bit of grass and try to do it yourself.

Don't click on the link until you have read this bit. It'll seem ridiculous.

I'm not for a moment suggesting this is one of the greatest goals of the past decade. Well, I am. And I'm not. It is clearly not a great goal. Well it is, but not in the way that Messi's goal is or Rivaldo's is. Please indulge me for a few moments and let me explain. Ask, say, a Burnley fan for his goal of the decade. Chances are it will be this.

Rooney? Cambiasso? Give any self-respecting New Zealander the choice and he will most likely take Rory Fallon over that pair. It is not just the goal itself, it is what the goal represents, and, in a way, isn't that what all of these have been about (on some level at least)?

This is mine. My favourite moment of terrace ecstasy. The one that meant the most. The highest high. But this entry isn't just for the Canadian Kaká, clumsily weaving his way towards a weary Nottingham Forest defence.

This is for Lee Steele.

This is for Dean Windass.

This is for David Wetherall.

This is for them and hundreds more like them. The greatest don't have to belong to everyone. It is enough if they belong to a few.