Taken in isolation, the winner in the 1950 Final Pool decider isn't anything to write home about: Ghiggia waltzes past the isolated, clueless and slow Bigode, then fires home a low shot that should really have been dealt with at the near post by Moacir Barbosa. In context, though, it's immense, football's ultimate contribution to chaos theory, the beat of a butterfly's wings that ended in a nuclear explosion. No single act has changed the course of its sport, or a nation, like this one. Brazil, plunged into mourning, their self-image irreparably tarnished - they even got rid of their virginal white shirts for good - subsequently developed an unhealthy obsession with winning the World Cup to prove their worth, an obsession yet to be fully sated five wins later. Even despite that win in 1970. The world of football hasn't done badly as a result of their intensity.

Bobby Charlton's monster against Mexico; David Narey's bomb against Brazil; Joe Cole's slash past Sweden; Peter Lorimer's zinger against Zaire: the Home Nations have contributed their fair share of outrageous netbusting strikes to the finals. But nothing holds a candle to this Welsh welt, proof positive that you could actually get that boulder moving in mid-air. Allchurch's arrow momentarily punctured a sombre atmosphere, too: the Hungarian fans spent the match protesting about the tragic events of the previous day, the execution of socialist hero Imre Nagy, fallen leader of the 1956 uprising.

The greatest collection of goals by a single team in a World Cup finals? People usually cite Brazil 82's preposterous portfolio - Socrates' scorcher and Eder's flick-and-flay against Russia, Zico's free-kick past poor Alan Rough, Zico and Junior's raking 40-yard one-two against Argentina - but while that's none too shabby, the under-rated West German team of 1966 pasted together an equally sumptuous scrapbook. Franz Beckenbauer's insouciant double and Helmut Haller's imperious meander against Switzerland surely represent the greatest triple-whammy in any single World Cup match, while the young Beckenbauer's pelt past the great Lev Yashin in the semi against USSR is pure cheek. But Lothar Emmerich's equaliser against Spain in the first round - the Germans were going out at the time - is the pick of the bunch, a blistering finish into the top-right corner from the tightest of angles. England's 1966 winners are hardly under-rated, but rarely do they get recognition for besting such a gifted side over the last haul to the summit.

Hungary's Golden Team of 1954 put most great sides from the World Cup's rich history in the shade, so statistically it's no surprise they've done for one of their own. Their 1966 team, starring Florian Albert and Ferenc Bene, would surely be more fondly remembered if they were from somewhere else along the Danube, say Yugoslavia or Romania, and not the slightly less impressive successors of Puskas, Hidegkuti, Koscis, et al. Tight at the back, exciting going forward, they could easily have notched up their country's third appearance in a World Cup final had the USSR not bullied them out at the quarter-final stage. They still made their mark, though, in a match which precipitated the quick decline of a footballing dynasty. In their second group game, facing elimination, they beat Brazil, inflicting the reigning champions' first World Cup defeat since 1954 (when of course that Golden Team did for them in the quarters). The goal that effectively decided the match was a belter, Farkas volleying a Bene right-wing cross into the bottom-right corner on the run at full pelt, despite the ball dropping just behind him. What was more remarkable was that the two Hungarians had played out an almost carbon-copy effort minutes earlier, Farkas volleying the dry run inches wide right. It was Garrincha's first-ever defeat as a member of A Seleção - in his last international. Brazil lost their next game, too, Pele hoofed out of the tournament by Portugal. Hungary made it through, though their Soviet nemesis awaited.

Holland's near misses in the World Cup finals of the 1970s are sure to always rankle – Rob Rensenbrink hitting the post in 78 beating the distracted no-show of 74 for sheer poignancy - but their failure to reach the summit in 1998 isn't recalled so frequently. The best team in France, they should have won, but did at least triumph in the tournament's signature match, against the second-best side, Argentina. Dennis Bergkamp's supernatural winner grabbed most of the attention – and understandably so – but Holland's opening goal was as smooth, and was created by three bursts of genius rather than just one: Ronald de Boer's shimmy and shake in the centre, Bergkamp's cushioned header that took the entire Argentinian defence out of the game, Kluivert's gentle dink into the net. Holland couldn't put away their penalties in the semi and went out – and look at the farcical mess the Brazilians made of the final.

The World Cup's reputation has taken a right royal battering in the new millennium - 32 teams is just too many - but at least there have been a constant stream of wonder goals to soften the blow: Salif Diao's fast-breaking, reputation-making strike for Senegal against Denmark; Jared Borghetti's eyebrow stroker, the best goalkeeper in the world, Gianluigi Buffon, rooted to his spot; Esteban Cambiasso's 24-pass work of art against Serbia & Montenegro, Argentina's second-best goal at the 2006 finals; Maxi Rodríguez's knockout volley against Mexico; Fabio Grosso curling home Andrea Pirlo's flick in the semi. But none of them beat this futsal fantasia, Alvaro Recoba's left-sided corner headed clear, juggled by Pablo Garcia, then slashed into the top left by Dario Rodríguez. A contender for the best World Cup goal of all time - and that includes the ones in the canon, Maradona, Carlos Alberto, Pele, Gemmill and all.