Not long ago, a group of journalists could be heard in one of those late-night barroom debates discussing where Paul Scholes ranks in the Manchester United pantheon. One question kept coming round: for all his fine performances, how many big games has he shaped in the way that marks the true greats? For all his eight out of tens, how many nines?

One goal might not change perspectives, not even a sensational goal, but Scholes’s 25-yard missile last night was a piercing riposte that propelled his team to the Champions League final. If there is any justice, it is an occasion that Scholes will grace with the best wishes of just about everyone in English football. The best wishes of anyone who has a heart.

Scholes, of course, did not play in the great Nou Camp triumph of 1999 because of a booking in the semi-final, second leg against Juventus. It was a crushing disappointment, but most of the sympathy went to Roy Keane, who found himself in the same predicament. Scholes will not have been upset that he was largely overlooked. It has been the story of his understated life.

In the age of Hello!, Scholes is more akin to Hovis. At 33, he had at one stage been drifting to the margins of the United squad and before last night he had not scored for eight long months. So while there was plenty to celebrate on an occasion that felt like an exorcism, a banishing of European demons at Old Trafford, more than anything this was the night when the quiet man stole the headlines.

There cannot have been a decent fan of any hue who did not leap off their armchair when Scholes picked up Gianluca Zambrotta’s woefully loose clearance, took aim and ripped his right foot across the ball, spinning it into the far corner with all the accuracy that Tiger Woods might fade a three-iron. Even Scholes himself beamed with delight.

Had such a story concerned another of Sir Alex Ferguson’s famous youth team, a certain David Beckham, this newspaper might contain a souvenir pullout. But this is Scholes and he declined all television interviews, heading straight to the dressing-room and then, quite probably, home to Oldham for a glass of milk. If he had been persuaded to talk, we can imagine the extent of his self-promotion. “I just hit it,” would have been his post-match analysis.

It is on the field that he will take his reward. Ferguson had said that, should United reach the final, he would feel obliged to give the little ginger schemer at least ten minutes for sentimental reasons. Last night he promised a starting place in Moscow. “Absolutely,” the United manager said. “He’s one of the great players to come through the ranks here.”

Scholes will play through merit alone, although sentiment should not drown out all the quibbles. Ferguson himself alluded to them when he said: “I don’t think we can expect Paul Scholes to score 10, 15 goals a season like he did when he was younger. Although he certainly made up for all the ones he can’t score at his age with that one tonight.”

Something that does not change is the terrible timing of his tackling and it was just as well that, this time, he was not on a second booking otherwise it might have been an even more unbearably tense occasion. Less than a minute had elapsed when he felled Lionel Messi just outside the penalty area. On several other occasions he chose discretion and allowed the little Argentinian to skip past him.

Ferguson was forced to withdraw him in the 76th minute as he succumbed to fatigue and, whoever the opposition in Moscow, the United manager may need to reinforce his central midfield around Scholes and Michael Carrick.

Selecting that partnership in the first leg at the Nou Camp last week had proved a big mistake, one that Ferguson only just got away with. It seemed a risky strategy to repeat, but it worked thanks to superb defence – hats off to Wes Brown – and the indefatigability of an unlikely hero, Park Ji Sung.

It was so excruciatingly tense at Old Trafford that someone appeared to have told the ballboys to fumble the ball every time it went out for a throw-in. With United clinging to a slender lead, every precious second counted.

Release came with the final whistle and, with it, a second Champions League final for Ferguson and the chance to join the 15 other managers, including Brian Clough, who have won the European Cup twice (Bob Paisley stands alone with three triumphs).

Victory is imperative given that it will be Chelsea or Liverpool in the final, not a great Real Madrid or a mighty AC Milan, and unlike in 1999 Ferguson will not be undermined by suspensions.

Scholes will be there; perhaps not to dominate, but a contribution such as last night’s will suffice.