A three-hour long masterpiece in which director Michael Cimino sought to explore the corrosive effects of the Vietnam War, and the only scene the majority of people remember is its briefest and most contrived: the game of Russian Roulette between Robert de Niro and Christopher Walken. Roberto Baggio must know the feeling. For all he did in USA '94 . . . never mind the rest of his career . . . what will always remain branded on the memory is that one shot which ended the tournament.

Russian Roulette is of course an old analogy for the penalty shoot-out but it endures because, superficially at least, it is an apt one. A series of simple shots with unequivocal consequences, penalties are football at its most fundamental, if not necessarily its purest. Where the comparison really lies however is the enormous weight attached to the outcome.

Penalties are do-or-die, the decisive kick representing the entire dynamic of sporting contest distilled into a single moment. The very language surrounding them . . . shootout, sudden death . . . illustrates their terminal nature. For Kevin Sheedy, who took Ireland's first ever penalty in a shoot-out, against Romania in Italia '90, the pressure was the "ultimate test of bottle".

"It feels like a long time from the final whistle to when you actually step up to take it. And when you start walking from the half-way line and there's 20,000 supporters behind the goal, it is daunting."

Just like that tension-soaked sequence in The Deer Hunter, penalties are so gripping because we know something genuinely dramatic is about to happen. The fabricated nature of that suspense and the emotion it cruelly extorts have drawn much criticism for shoot-outs but . . . abhor them or not . . . they have provided some of the World Cup's most memorable and enthralling moments.

Devised in 1970 to replace endless replays and the drawing of lots, the first major international match settled by penalties was the 1976 European Nations Cup final, when Czechoslovakia's Antonin Panenka impudently chipped West German keeper Sepp Maier. It wasn't until the 1982 semi-final that the World Cup saw its first, the Germans proving a lesson had been internalised by clawing a mercurial France back to 3-3 before winning 5-4 from the spot. Since then, 15 out of 77 knock-out games . . . just over 20 per cent in total . . . have ended in shoot-outs. Among them have been the misses of Socrates and Michel Platini in 1986 . . . not to mention four Englishmen . . . as well as the triumphs of Brazil in 1994 and David O'Leary four years earlier.

Such has been the psychological impact of moments like these that shoot-outs have come to define the football narrative of certain countries.

The Germans' supposed impassive efficiency is emphasised by their proficiency, while the successive failures of the Italians, Dutch and English betrays an apparent weakness of nerve. When looking at the statistics, some truth is lent to these impressions. The Germans certainly have the finest record in World Cups, but in all competitions they lose again to their Czech conquerors of 1976 who, in three European Championship shoot-outs, have never missed a kick.

At the other end, bar Ecuador's solitary shoot-out in the 1997 Copa America, the three European sides justifiably have the greatest hangups when it's 0-0 with 119 minutes gone, having won just one each.

Of course, the very existence of these discrepancies is where the analogy of Russian Roulette appears misplaced.

Implying a game of chance, if this truly applied to shootouts then the statistics would be much more balanced. Mick McCarthy followed Glenn Hoddle and countless others in declaring "practising penalties is garbage" . . . that the pressure involved renders any training irrelevant . . . but such thinking not only seems cover for a lack of preparation, it defies logic.

There's a reason golfers hit four-foot putts until sinking them is second nature. And though footballers always point to the additional obstacle of the goalkeeper, how many times has a free-kick specialist beat him and a wall from 25 yards . . . let alone 12 . . .

in the final moments?

It is a myth Gyuri Vergouw, the author of Strafschop: The Quest for the Ultimate Penalty, has sought to completely dismantle. A Dutch management consultant but also a football fanatic, he viewed penalties in the sober language of business performance and set out on a one-man crusade to solve his country's penalty problem.

Consulting psychologists and former players as well as a host of academic data, in Holland he became known as Professor Penalty. Not that his warnings were heeded however. David Winner, in his book Brilliant Orange, calls him Cassandra as, just after his book was published, Holland scandalously missed five penalties in their Euro 2000 semi-final against Italy. Again the old excuses came out. Vergouw echoes Roy Keane in his castigation.

"This idea of penalties being no more than a lottery is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you fail to prepare, you prepare to fail. Penalty-taking is not a chance thing. You know what's going to happen after 120 minutes. There are coaches, like Louis Van Gaal, who didn't even have a list of players who should take one. That's hardly a professional approach.

There is no evidence at all that you can't practise penalties but there is a lot of evidence you can."

Of course, it's not just down to practice though. It must be conducted correctly. Viewing penalties purely as the science they are, there are not only areas of the goal impossible for a keeper to reach but also techniques of striking the ball that render a penalty unstoppable. Like golfers, this process must become systematic. Vergouw certainly makes a persuasive case.

"The problem with penalties is that football is creative and then all of a sudden this free task becomes a mechanical one. You don't have to make it a science for the players though. You just have to tell them, 'Take a straight approach'. [In 2000], the Dutch took penalties during training and when the ball went in they said, 'Okay, you can take a penalty, why should we practice any more'? They didn't look if the goalkeeper made the wrong decision, if the ball was shot in the right corner, the right direction, the right speed, the right angle . . . nothing.Look at Panenka, he practised his penalties for two years.

"They say you can't recreate the pressure, but would you go on an aeroplane with a pilot who said 'I've never practiced before' . . . they practice stress management. And of course in penalties you feel the pressure, but if you don't know what to do because you've never practiced before, that pressure is even greater.

"Here in Holland, Marco Van Basten has finally changed the approach and the Dutch started training on penalties five months ago. Of course, the Germans start doing it when they're 16 years old."

Back in Saigon, a game of chance Russian Roulette it may have been, but de Niro loaded extra bullets and took control of the situation. When the inevitable excuses roll in over the next week or so, some managers at this World Cup might think about finally doing the same.