Half an hour into Anfield there was a moment of home crowd theatrics that would form the defining image of this 2-0 Liverpool victory, perhaps even of Conor Bradley’s young career to date, and which also undoubtedly produced the loudest and most visceral victory . roar of the night. And let’s face it, who doesn’t love a loud and visceral roar.

It came from a Liverpool corner, Kylian Mbappé carried the ball onto the pitch and felt the night beginning to break for him. To which point: entering Bradley, on the opposite side of the left, with an energy that very clearly indicated that this was not a footballer who had the intention of harassing or jockeying Mbappé or showing Mbappé the outside, but who instead intended to separate Mbappé’s feet, as well as the ball, from the Anfield pitch.

You could already feel the air rising, like the static before a bolt of lightning, as the crowd collectively gasped as Bradley launched himself, grabbed the ball, upended Mbappe and received a sort of thunderclap from three sides of the ground. people so loud in the city center will have simply assumed Liverpool had scored.

It was simply a wonderful evening for Bradley, who had the opportunity to face Mbappe from the start. It was an excellent selection from Arne Slot, who could have gone with the relative safety of Joe Gomez, but instead just trusted the talent. Slot spent the night striding along his touchline, beautifully smooth and tender pate gleaming under the midweek lights, and is, it seems safe to say, currently in charge of the best team in Europe.

For Bradley, the duel with Mbappé was almost a tangible thing. The memes, the poorly photoshopped head literally sticking out of a photo of a pocket. In between defending with real clarity and aggression, there was the decisive period at the start of the second half, when Bradley emerged in Madrid’s penalty area, completely upside down, now unhindered by the Galactico at his back. From then on, Bradley found the neat pass that set up Alexis Mac Allister’s opening goal, a turn and shot that effectively took the game out of his hands. Towards the end, Madrid had even declared that they would kick him. There is no greater compliment.

Anfield was fresh, quiet and authentically chilly at kick-off. The super Champions League was created with these kinds of nights in mind, the idea that we will all spend our time snacking and soaking up the power flash of the super club. And there’s still something irresistible at this stage about those big old notes, the blocks of red and white. The feeling that the only thing that really matters is the moment in that clean, bright square of light.

Liverpool had its own motivation to push hard for this. This was an opportunity for Slot to continue in his own space as Liverpool manager, to make it very clear that he is no longer tending and preparing someone else’s garden.

It has to be said that Liverpool faced a much more limited version of Madrid, who are missing six key players. Without Vinicius Jr they are just another team. Not in every phase, but in their threat, their edge, the idea of ​​what they could do to you, like Thor going into battle without his hammer. In any case, Mbappé got what he wanted: the chance to not just be The Man, but The Man on the left.

It has been a difficult transition so far. Mbappé looked vulnerable and anxious. Early on he was booed en masse, after which he saw Mac Allister steal the ball and feed a galloping Darwin Núñez, always the best Darwin Núñez. And to be honest, Mbappé never really recovered.

There is a fundamental lack of cruelty. Later in the half he confronted Bradley again, did at least forty flying stepovers, a man dancing very close to a game of football, and then lost the ball.

He eventually fell behind 1–0 to Bradley and helped lead the ball to Madrid to win a penalty. He also missed the ball and produced a terrible penalty that Caoimhín Kelleher could actually have just saved.

Otherwise, Liverpool dominated Madrid physically, on a night dominated by those moments of bravado. Early on, Núñez Cruyff spun past Jude Bellingham after a corner kick and then slid in front of the bottom tier of the stands, who reacted like an Olympic ice-dancing crowd, purring, blowing kisses, raising their hands to their throats.

There was another Bradley moment in the 64th minute when he slid into the Madrid area, looked at a cross sail over his head and turned to see Mo Salah hammer back 40 yards to steal the ball, a stunning display of superstardom -rats that could only have happened. He would have been better if Salah had done it while literally holding a contract in his hand, the pages fluttering behind him. Fifteen minutes later, Salah would also miss a penalty.

Perhaps the best thing for Liverpool and Slot was that it never seemed to matter.