BALE’S A REAL HERO
Welshman’s wonder goal three minutes after coming on helps to secure Madrid’s third straight title
IN THE END, hope alone wasn’t enough to carry Liverpool to this most unlikely of victories. Real Madrid don’t indulge romantic whims. They win trophies. A 13th European Cup goes their way. From the moment Mohamed Salah was crushed by the weight of Sergio Ramos, whose strong arm gripped the Egyptian, forcing him to fall unnaturally, and clutch his shoulder, that seemed most likely. Salah departed, sobbing and injured, on 28 minutes. And though Liverpool fought on gamely, you sensed a moment passing.
Astonishingly, this is a third successive Champions League trophy collected by Real’s coach Zinedine Zidane, who joins the likes of Carlo Ancelotti and Bob Paisley as the most successful coaches in the competition’s history. Except that Zidane has done it in his first 29 months of coaching in his first job. And Real Madrid join Ajax and Bayern in achieving that treble. Except, of course, they did it before in the 1950s, with five successive wins.
On another night we would have been lauding the exceptional performance of Welshman Gareth Bale. Excluded from the starting line-up, he came on to win the game with a goal so good it is unlikely to be matched for decades. Maybe it even surpassed that of the manager who had left him out, who scored a similarly magnificent goal in this final in 2002. He then added a second, which finished Liverpool. And perhaps Loris Karius.
At times the keeper was superb. Yet this will always be the final he lost. The first goal he conceded was comically awful, bowling the ball out directly into Benzema’s outstretched leg. The second was as bad, allowing Bale’s speculative shot from 30 yards, aimed straight at him, to slide through his hands and into the net.
You felt enormous sympathy for him. It was the kind of night from which only the strongest recover.
Zidane left out Bale, opting for the more subtle creativity of Isco, a bitter blow for the Welshman after his recent run of fine form. However, initially it made little difference to the balance of the game for Real Madrid were subject to as sustained an assault of harrying and hustling from an eager Liverpool side as you are likely to see.
It was like watching footballing aristocracy being asked to mix with the hoi polloi, classic musical concert goers being confronted by Iron Maiden. Here was Sadio Mane robbing Cristiano Ronaldo; there was James Milner tearing into Casemiro, targeted by Liverpool at every turn. It was quite something to see a team as accomplished as Real Madrid quite so firmly on the back foot.
The question was whether such an approach could be sustained. And whether its idealistic enthusiasm would catch Liverpool out. When Roberto Firmino under-hit a pass to Andy Robertson, the Scot gamely attempted to make it anyway. He didn’t and in doing so left his post unguarded. Into that gap advanced Cristiano Ronaldo, spurting elegantly, ball at his feet. He shot just over. But it was a warning. The establishment knows a thing or two on quelling youthful revolts.
Still, Liverpool had by far the better of the game’s opening. On 11 minutes, a Mohamed Salah flick and cushioned header by Roberto Firmino allowed Terence Alexander-Arnold to sprint through on goal, requiring Keylor Navas to race from his line to smother.
When Dani Carvajal sent an attempted crossfield pass straight out for a corner on 17 minutes, it seemed to represent the minor panic induced in Real Madrid by Liverpool’s sheer ferocity. From the corner, Virgil van Dijk headed just over. Better would follow on 22 minutes, when Firmino’s shot was deflected into the path of Alexander-Arnold. His strike, firm and low, forced a fine save from Navas.
However, on 28 minutes came the most grievous of blows for Liverpool when Salah emerged from his tussle with Sergio Ramos clutching his shoulder in pain.
Two minutes later he simply dropped to his knees, seemingly in tears and holding that injured shoulder. It was clear what it meant. He walked off, sobbing, distraught and straight into the arms of a Klopp bearhug, as Adam Lallana came on.
Real Madrid would suffer their own setback, though hardly as significant. Carvajal had received treatment on an ankle in the warmup.
Now, 37 minutes into the half, it gave up on him, collapsing as he ran. Again, he held his head, tears flowed and his final finished as Nacho took his place.
It wasn’t that Liverpool purposely changed their approach without their talisman. Lallana went left side and Mane filled in on the right. Yet you sensed, all around the Olympic Stadium, a little of their belief ebbed away.
Real Madrid began to hit their stride, the threat never more apparent than when Isco crossed on 42 minutes to find a rising Ronaldo,
who headed goalwards in his imperious fashion. It took a fine save from Loris Karius to push the ball away, only into the path of Karim Benzema, who volleyed in. But a flag was raised and Liverpool were spared.
Then there was a cross-field ball from Benzema on 45 minutes which substitute Nacho volleyed into the side-netting. Liverpool, having unsettled the might of Madrid, were happy to head to the refuge of the dressing room and a fresh injection of hope from Klopp.
Where Real Madrid had stuttered, now they strutted. They came out as confidently as they had finished the first half. Ronaldo played in Marcelo and Lallana attempted to cut out his pass on 47 minutes. Yet unfortunately he only helped the ball on to Isco. Karius’s despairing lunge meant he pretty much had the whole goal to aim at. Somehow he hit the bar.
The reprieve wasn’t to last long, however. And when the incision came, it really was the unkindest cut of all. An over-hit Toni Kroos pass on 50 minutes was collected by Karius. In his eagerness to restart play, he attempted to bowl the ball out to his centre halves, but in too casual a fashion. Benzema was lurking close by and he simply lifted a foot and the ball lamely lolloped into the net. There was nothing spectacular, nor enthralling. But the damage was enormous.
Karius raged, Jordan Henderson protested to the referee. But really there was nothing to be said. Benzema’s foot wasn’t especially high and he wasn’t even that close. It was an awful mistake, made in front of the world. A groan of sympathy echoed around the ground as the replay was shown.
Liverpool looked lost for a second. When Mane, in sheer frustration, raised a hand at Ramos — perceived as the author of their lost hope — the Spaniard reacted predictably. Mane was lucky, escaping with a lecture. But keeping their heads was as important. Chances were coming. And then, from the corner, hope rekindled. Milner found Lovren, who rose brilliantly and headed goalwards. And Mane reacted quicker than anyone, stealing a yard, sticking out a leg and deflecting the ball home.
Belief returned. Yet soon another blow would arrive, this time as extraordinary as the first goal was ridiculous.
Bale had only been on the pitch three minutes. There seemed little danger when Marcelo dinked in a cross from the left. Yet, back to goal, Bale rose, if a little ungainly, with scarcely believable athleticism to meet it with his foot, a good metre and a half off the ground. It was the most spectacular of overhead kicks and simply soared into the net.