"What is the hardest thing to do on the football pitch?"
Everything in football is constructed on there being one answer to this question. It is the answer we would all give, when asked, something we have learned by rote from a young age. It even comes in a ready-made, prepackaged, accepted form. Its beat is soothing, familiar, comfortable:
"Put the ball in the back of the net."
This counts as an article of faith for many, for most, of us who love football. If ever all of the truisms that swirl around the sport were gathered and codified into some form of credo, it would be up there competing for the top spot.
It would be the first commandment, above even Thou Shalt Not Dive and Nobody Wants To See A Red Card. We all believe it to be absolutely true: Thou Shalt Know The Hardest Thing To Do Is Put The Ball In The Back Of The Net.
Its importance is not just theoretical. It has a very practical significance, a huge, telling influence over almost every aspect of the game all over the world.
Individual prizes -- player of the year awards, the Ballon D'Or -- are given to those who score the most goals, or at least to those who have the capacity to score a considerable number of goals.
It is strikers who attract the most lavish, most exorbitant transfer fees and always have, right back to the days of Alf Common, a prolific scorer in the early years of the 20th century who is famous for having been the first player to be transferred for 1,000 pounds.
It is strikers, as Paul Tomkins and Graeme Riley showed in "Pay As You Play," who have always been given the bumper wages, paid on average half as much again as their defensive colleagues.
It is strikers who are turned to in days of desperation; witness all of those sides battling relegation in the Premier League who spend the last few hours of the transfer window chasing a handful of forwards on the grounds that what they need, what they really need, is goals, even if their defences have been so bad that bringing in a Labrador would have been a considerable improvement.
It is forwards who are thrown on, traditionally, as substitutes in search of victory; it is forwards who are included in squads for tournaments in greater numbers than players in any other positions -- most countries these days play with one up front yet most still have five strikers in their lists -- because it is forwards who make the difference.
Football is about goals. If you do not have goals, you have nothing. Scoring them is the most important skill you can have, the one that must be acquired at all costs and then protected and cocooned and nurtured and indulged. And all because of the answer to that question:
What is the hardest thing to do on the pitch? Put the ball in the back of the net.
Contradicting this counts, almost, as heresy. Certainly, should you happen to suggest as much to anyone who has ever played professionally as a striker, they will look simultaneously offended and enraged.
The thing is, though, that perhaps it is not true. Perhaps the hardest thing to do in football is not to put the ball in the back of the net. Perhaps, instead, the truth is one step removed. Perhaps the hardest thing to do in football is to create the opportunity for someone -- whether that is a teammate or yourself -- to put the ball in the back of the net.
About 18 months ago, at the launch of Dennis Bergkamp's critically acclaimed memoir, "Stillness and Speed," the Arsenal and Netherlands great captivated those of us present as he covered vast tracts of ground about his career. One thing he said, though, struck a particular chord.
It came when we were discussing three of his most famous goals, three of those goals you can watch again and again, no matter who you support, and rejoice. Three of those goals that probably drew breath and a round of applause even from his opponents. They were, of course, the goals against Argentina, Newcastle and Leicester.
What was most telling was that Bergkamp did not really care that they were goals. "I am proud of the control," said the Dutchman, when asked to reflect on them. "Definitely the control. They were all great goals because of the first touch. It is only highlighted because it [led to] a goal, of course, but if I miscontrol the ball, it is gone. There is no goal.
"What is the football I find beautiful? A nice pass through the lines. Or a good control. A quick first touch. I really enjoy that. The main thing for me is how football is played. I like watching Barcelona, Germany, Bayern Munich. That sort of football is really of interest to me. Those players make me sit up in my chair. 'Woah, what is happening now?'
"As a young player, scoring goals is fantastic. But it has never been my main aim. At some point it is part of your job as a player. They expect you to score goals and I was able to do that. If you look at my whole career, though, I got a lot of pleasure out of control, assists, passes. The same as scoring goals."
This is probably a matter of personal taste, but there is something in there that is very appealing. Yes, the goal is the purpose of football. It is what everything is for. But the beauty, the real beauty, lies in how that goal is manufactured. The goal is the crescendo, and it has a value and a merit of its own, but it is the work put in to build to that point that is where the genius resides.
That is why there is something so special, in so many places across the world, about the No. 10 shirt. The No. 10 is not the player who scores the most goals -- with some notable exceptions, such as Lionel Messi -- and it is even more rarely the player who is tasked with finishing off moves. No, the No. 10 is the creator, the artist, the conductor.
It is his job to find the holes, to play the passes, to change the game. Strikers, the No. 9s, need ruthlessness and poise and grace under pressure. They are all incredibly valuable skills, but No. 10s need another array of talents still: they need imagination and vision and daring. They have to break down the massed ranks of the opposition. They have to see the possibilities. They have, hardest of all, to lift us off our seats.
So maybe there is a different answer to that question. Maybe the hardest thing in football is not putting the ball in the back of the net. Maybe the hardest thing in football is dreaming how it can be done.