Think you’ve seen Diego Maradona’s “Hand of God”? Of course you have. But probably not as danced by a tiny ballerina in a short frilly tutu, raised high into the air by men in tights, slapping an imaginary ball into an imaginary net. To the strains of Nessun Dorma.

Their stereotypical fan bases sit at opposite ends of the social spectrum, but ballet and football have occasionally attracted comparisons, even if there have been few recorded instances of the audience at the Royal Opera House chanting “you’re s*** and you know you are” if a performance of Giselle is not meeting expectations.

Yet both arts require strength, grace and poise; and the protagonists of each are known for prima-donna behaviour and for wondrous athleticism that can be delicate or brutal. Consider Cristiano Ronaldo – his graceful pirouettes past opponents, his evocative swan dives; remember the inventive choreography of goal celebrations; reflect on how David Beckham has made it possible for footballers to be at once ultra-manly and slightly girlie.

“You’ve got to be a highly polished athlete as a dancer and as a footballer. You need discipline, technique, teamwork and a few players of genius, and both careers are short,” Wayne Eagling, the artistic director of the English National Ballet, said.

Eagling’s company has created The Beautiful Game: A Football Ballet, a 15-minute work commissioned by The New Football Pools to showcase ten iconic moments as voted for by 20,000 visitors to the Pools’ website.

The premiere is tomorrow at the Everyman Playhouse, in Liverpool. “The starting point was that we sat down and watched the original foot-age and thought of the most artistic way we could put it across,” Jenna Lee, the choreographer, said. “It had to be exciting, but also recognisable.”

So, as well as Maradona’s basketball exhibition against England in the 1986 World Cup, there are reenactments of famous incidents such as Geoff Hurst’s 1966 heroics, René Higuita’s scorpion kick from 1995, Archie Gemmill’s solo goal against Holland in the 1978 World Cup and Beckham’s free kick against Greece in 2001. Despite the nine-strong cast’s talent, the reconstruction of Paul Gascoigne’s “dentist’s chair” goal celebration from Euro 96 proved unconvincing; maybe the dancers had not spent enough time lubricating themselves in Hong Kong nightspots.

Some footballers do risk dressing-room mockery by hitting the barre. Long before he gyrated in front of a prime-time audience on Strictly Come Dancing, John Barnes was part of a Watford team whose manager, Graham Taylor, introduced dance techniques into the odd training session.

“The idea was that football is all about footwork and coordination,” Barnes said. “Not just football; boxers, cricketers, even basketball. It’s about putting your body in a position to execute a skill. Dancing, generally – ballet, particularly – would stand you in good stead if you’re able to master it. It’s not like we had tights on, but in the Eighties there were certain connotations towards ballet dancers and macho footballers didn’t take to it.” Barnes was at last week’s preview and enjoyed it. “The strength and the dynamism is what impresses me,” he said. “Nureyev, for example, the height that he could get – imagine him coming in at the far post to meet a cross from David Beckham.”

Dion Dublin, the former striker, revealed in 2002 that he became smitten by ballet while recovering from a serious injury. And who can forget the famous photograph of Vinnie Jones attempting to modify the pitch of Paul Gascoigne’s voice in a hard-man refashioning of The Nutcracker?

The “Crazy Gang” really did dabble with dance. Eagling introduced Wimbledon’s players to ballet in the Eighties thanks to his friendship with Sam Hammam, the former owner. “Vinnie, Fash [John Fashanu], Dennis Wise – they started to come and see the ballet,” Eagling said. “Sam used to say, ‘If we lose 2-0 we’ll go to the ballet and if we lose 4-0 we’ll go to the opera.’ ”