It's got to be perfect, Some people take second best, But I won't take anything less, It's got to be, perfect. And so the chorus goes of one of Fairground Attraction's best known songs. We may all have our conception of perfection but few of us ever see anything perfect in life and sport is no exception.

In the school playground we played a variety of games. There was the kick-about for the boys (least popular boy picked last), Red Rover, Red Rover (let the person we like least come over), ropes (least popular girl rarely doing any skipping) and the inevitable, and frequently favourite, rounders.

Everybody seemed to want to play. The flamboyant lash-out technique, the carefully placed shot, the cunning strategist's play - all so uncannily mirrored the personality of the hitter. Enjoyment, arguments and exhaustion, but never perfection.

Yet only last week the big boys witnessed perfection in grown-up rounders when New York Yankees pitcher David Wells threw the thirteenth perfect pitch in major league baseball in a victory over the Minnesota Twins.

He retired all 27 hitters he faced, becoming the first Yankee to throw a perfect game since Don Larsen managed the feat in the 1956 World Series. And almost 50,000 roaring New Yorkers were there, chock full with hot dogs and Coke, to watch. With the last out the fans went wild and players and coaching staff poured out of the dugout to mob their hero. Babe Ruth was probably cheering in the Great Baseball Ground in the Sky. Perfection is worth cheering.

Meanwhile, the burly left-hander who performed the rare feat was relatively unmoved. After the inevitable thanks to divine intervention and dedication of his success to his dead mother, Wells was told he would probably receive the key to the city from Mayor Giuliani, who has tried his hardest to sanitise the place that never sleeps.

''But I just told him that's not a good idea. I would have too many doors to open.''

Over the years there have been rare glimpses of perfection. When the seemingly frail 16-year-old Romanian gymnast Nadia Comaneci appeared at the Montreal Olympics in 1976 in the wake of Olga Korbut the audience held its breath as she tiptoed along the beam like a bird and then leapt and rolled across the mat like a cat. Who could have predicted that she would be awarded the maximum score on her way to three gold medals? Sheer perfection.

Britain, too, has had its moment in the sun. Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean swept all before them at the beginning of the 80s. The 6s ranged across the judges' boards as he tossed her around like a piece of straw in ice dance competitions. The Olympic gold medal in 1984 was virtually a foregone conclusion as they charmed onlookers with their interpretation of Ravel's Bolero. Sheer perfection.

We have become blase now by television screenings of maximum breaks in snooker but the first time 147 was seen was a real revelation. Sheer perfection.

Of course top marks need not be the watchword for perfection. Some amateur golfers might consider a hole-in-one perfection but it's really just good luck at best or sheer fluke. But think of Severiano Ballesteros after a wild slice off the tee, stuck in seemingly impenetrable forest, where daylight rarely reaches. Think how many times he has strolled in, casually selected a club and then carved the ball like a magician to 12 feet from the pin. Sheer perfection.

Or the incredible Muhammad Ali, he of the floats-like-a-butterfly-and-stings-like-a-bee fame. Regardless of whether he should have retired earlier, this is the only man to be world champion three times and along the way he amazed with his grace and dignity. No Mike Tyson this. Sheer perfection.

Footballers, too, have shown flashes of brilliance that will be remembered long after they're gone. Pele played more than 100 times for Brazil and scored more than 1200 goals in his career. He even managed to remain a gentle-man. And in a couple of weeks' time his young countryman Ronaldo will have a platform to display his undoubted talent. Sheer perfection.

But a perfect dream would be to see John Collins drive the ball into the top corner in the final of the World Cup a few weeks' later. Impossible? But it's only a dream. A perfect one.