In Atlanta in 1996 so much went wrong, but one moment was absolutely right.

At the climax of an opening ceremony that had been highlighted by a display of choreographed pick-up trucks, it was the boxer Evander Holyfield who carried the Olympic flame into the stadium. He in turn handed it off to the American swimming star Janet Evans, who carried it to the top of a ramp, where it seemed just for an instant that she would perform the great symbolic task of lighting the cauldron.

But then from out of the darkness a giant yet frail figure emerged, visibly trembling, his face frozen in a Parkinsonian mask.

With shaking hand, Muhammad Ali took the torch from Evans and lifted it high, then lit the wick that in turn set the great flame alight above Atlanta.

His presence in the birthplace of Martin Luther King Jr. delivered a larger message, not just about athletic excellence, but about tolerance and perseverance and courage. Ali, as Cassius Clay, had won a gold medal in Rome in 1960. Later, he would tell people (not entirely accurately, it turned out) that after being refused service in a restaurant because he was African-American, he had flung the medal into the Ohio River as a protest against racism.

Ali's return to the Olympic Games resonated around the world, causing tears to be shed on every continent.

Now try to remember others who lit the flame at other Olympic Games. Try to remember who it was at the Olympics in Montreal in 1976 and Calgary in 1988.

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Muhammad Ali holds the torch before lighting the Olympic Flame during the Opening Ceremony of the 1996 Centennial Olympic Games in Atlanta, Georgia.

Michael Cooper/Getty Images

Try to imagine who ought to be called on next February in Vancouver, not as another Ali - there's only one of those - but someone who might sum up the history and hopes and aspirations and fundamental character of the country that has chosen and been chosen to play host to the 2010 Winter Olympics. Will the organizers in Vancouver Whistler be able to conjure up their own signature moment, or will this join so many others all but forgotten over time?

The design of the cauldron, the location, the means of lighting it - the archer in Barcelona springs to mind - can vary widely and test the limits of creativity, but those selected to do the lighting tend to be drawn from one of three categories, all of which fit within the International Olympic Committee's criteria requiring that it be a past, present or theoretical future Olympian or Paralympian.

Whether an individual, a duo, even a larger group - the 1980 Miracle on Ice U.S. hockey team did the honours collectively in Salt Lake City in 2002 - most are relatively straightforward choices: athletic achievers, sports heroes to the host nation.

Others convey a larger symbolic message with their presence, whether it was Yoshinori Sakai, a track athlete born in Hiroshima on the day the atomic bomb was detonated in 1945 who lit the flame in Tokyo in 1964, or Cathy Freeman, the great aboriginal Australian runner, who in 2000 in Sydney was selected in part to make a statement about racial reconciliation.

Others are anonymous before their big moment, chosen to act as universals - like Stéphane Préfontaine and Sandra Henderson, who jointly lit the flame in Montreal, and Robyn Perry, the 12-year-old figure skater who performed the ceremonial task in Calgary, all three emblematic of the potential of youth, of a bright, optimistic Canadian future.

As we enter the home stretch heading toward Vancouver 2010, one thing is certain: whoever it is that will be the last torchbearer in B.C. Place - the first time in Olympic history that the flame will be lit indoors - doesn't yet know that they have the job. And even once they are told, their identity will remain a closely guarded secret until the opening ceremony.

"The process for selection is deeply protected and very few people will ever know, otherwise we would risk ruining a great surprise," says John Furlong, chief executive officer of the Vancouver organizing committee. "I remember talking to Dick EbersolÖ at NBC about how they protected the information in Atlanta. A total of three people knew that Muhammad Ali was going to light the flame. So what we tried to do is first of all make sure the process is completely protected so people aren't led to any sort of logical conclusion about who or how this is all going to work. The goal is to have everyone in the stadium look and say, ‘Of course it should have been that,' and feel a sense of unity and pride at what they're looking at."

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Cathy Freeman holds the torch during Sydney's opening ceremony in 2000.

Robert F. Bukaty/The Associated Press

That is a tall order, and it calls to mind a host of possibilities. Political and cultural realities dictate that the final group of torchbearers will include native First Nations representation, and a balance between French and English Canada. Past gold medalists from the Winter Olympics will also almost certainly be in the stadium. Consider the list compiled earlier this year of Canada's greatest Winter Olympic moments: It is the safest of safe bets that most will be acknowledged by the time the opening ceremony is complete.

Some of the athletes responsible - Cindy Klassen, Clara Hughes, members of the 2002 men's and women's gold-medal hockey teams - may well be in the stadium already, having marched with the 2010 Canadian team, and ready to take a turn with the torch. Gaétan Boucher must be there. Will Myriam Bédard, given her personal struggles over the past few years? She certainly is part of the Canadian Olympic pantheon.

So is Beckie Scott, who both won gold and fought a brave battle to clean up her sport. How about Ross Rebagliati, a gold medalist and Vancouver native?

The last link in the chain, chosen by a small group from the organizing committee executive, figures to be someone strongly associated with sport, probably with British Columbia, almost certainly with the Olympics, who also possesses a bit of the "wow" factor.

Assuming that this time Canada will not go the anonymous route, a number of names immediately spring to mind. No, probably not Wayne Gretzky, though naturally he has his supporters - and it certainly wouldn't be a shock to see him or Mario Lemieux some time before the ceremony is done. Nancy Greene, one of Canada greatest Olympians, a native British Columbian, and instantly recognizable to anyone of a certain age, has to be a strong possibility. So does Rick Hansen, a world-class wheelchair athlete who won a gold medal in the 1980 Paralympics, and who will celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Man in Motion world tour in 2010.

Furlong certainly isn't providing any clues. "One of the challenges is that everyone lobbies and people come up with ideas and we have to make sure that at no time does anyone have any idea of what happens, who, what, when, where, the process," he says. "Otherwise it just ruins a potentially great moment. It's the iconic moment."

And then there's the wild card, which would likely require special permission from the powers of Lausanne, since the athlete involved is no longer living, since he never participated in an Olympic Games. But somehow, it wouldn't be at all surprising if the spirit of Terry Fox were invoked, given his origins in the province, given how the message of the Marathon of Hope has spread around the planet.

Not Ali, perhaps, not a star of that magnitude, but similarly universal, similarly moving, sending a larger message that extends beyond sport to the core of the human spirit.