Sergio Aguero means a lot of different things to Manchester City fans.
To some, he means trophies - he did score that goal, after all. To others, he means goals, loads and loads of them in every variety imaginable.
To many, he means fun; there are few sights on a football pitch more enjoyable than Aguero powering away from a defender, rifling a shot into the roof of the net and wheeling away in celebration with that cheeky grin on his face.
For me though, he means hope.
The mid-2000s was not a great time to be a young City fan. Sure, I was lucky to have missed the despair and anguish of the trip to the third tier in the 90s, but swearing my allegiance to City at the tender age of seven left me vulnerable to the jeers and jokes of schoolmate reds, brought up on a diet of success and high expectations.
The following league finishes served as my introduction to City fandom: 16th, 8th, 15th, 14th. Understandably, I expected a life of midtable misery.
By the end of the decade things improved significantly, and in May 2011 I saw City win a trophy for the first time in my seven years of support; some had waited 35 years.
Still though, that version of City retained a trait that had haunted the club for decades. When the going got tough and the Blues needed some sort of divine intervention in the dying moments - our version of 'Fergie Time', if you will - we were usually left wanting.
Gillingham 1999 is the obvious exception, but generally speaking, if City were losing come the 80-minute mark, you knew the game was up. We just didn't have anyone to take the game by the scruff of the neck and inspire real hope.
Then Sergio arrived.
Aguero's greatest quality - above his finishing, his passion and his technique - was that he never quite knew when he was beaten. What he gave City fans was a feeling that those on the red side of Manchester knew well: until the referee blew the final whistle, there was always a way.
I can't not mention the title-winning goal against Queens Park Rangers. Forget the actual finish - what was remarkable was the way that Aguero took matters into his own hands. He dropped deep, fed up of waiting for the ball to come to him, and forced that one-two with Mario Balotelli that didn't really look to be on at all. Any other player probably wouldn't have thought to do it, but then few had the belief and determination of Kun.
I was almost in tears when the clock hit 90 minutes and City were 2-1 down, the title that was ours carelessly let go. Experience had taught me that it was over, that City don't score late goals or snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. But that was before Aguero.
He did it again two-and-a-half years later in the Champions League when Pep Guardiola's Bayern Munich came to town. City were staring down the barrel of another embarrassing group stage exit, the progress of 2013/14 undone.
Somehow, despite enjoying a man advantage since the 20th minute, City found themselves 2-1 down with five minutes remaining. Experience had taught me that City don't do well in Europe, that my now-brilliant team would never beat a proper heavyweight.
Then up popped Sergio with two late goals typical of his never-say-die attitude, his determination and hunger allowing him to pounce on two defensive mistakes to save his side.
Those two examples were not Aguero's only late, improbable goals - he was always at it.
It is perhaps fitting, but also sad, that his final goal in professional football came under similar circumstances.
Having rallied for a late equaliser against arch-rivals Real Madrid, Barcelona had the stuffing knocked out of them by a 94th-minute counter-attack.
2-0 down in El Clasico and deep into injury time - it was over, right?
Not in Aguero's eyes. In the seventh minute on injury time he scored a typical Aguero goal, dropping back slightly to the edge of the six-yard box to finish off an inviting cut-back.
His retirement means that Barcelona fans never really got to realise something: it was never over with Kun around. That is why he is so special to me and thousands of City fans. He gave us hope.
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